Chapter 139 – Tang Hao: Nothing but a Worthless Dragon!
Tang San's identity was too extraordinary.
At worst, Yu Luomian might cripple him—but he couldn't truly kill him.
Flender clenched his teeth bitterly, anxiety boiling inside him.
He couldn't help but blame Tang San.
Qin Ming had already admitted defeat—no matter what, Tang San should have detoxified Yu Tianheng immediately.
But instead, he stubbornly pointed to Ye Lingling and demanded she heal Xiao Wu first.
Xiao Wu's arm was broken—it wasn't life-threatening.
Yu Tianheng, on the other hand, was poisoned; every second lost could mean death.
Tang San had been too impulsive, letting his emotions rule him. Xiao Wu was his fatal weakness, Flender thought with a sigh.
Now that Yu Tianheng was dead, Tang San had finally regained his senses.
He stood there, head lowered, eyes dark with remorse.
Beside him was Yu Xiaogang, who couldn't accept what had just happened.
His nephew—the child he once held in his arms, the boy he had watched grow up—had been killed by his own disciple.
The pain was unbearable.
Yu Tianheng had been close to him as a child, their bond one of the few warm memories Yu Xiaogang had from his clan.
Now, after years estranged from his family, his nephew had become the clan's brightest hope—and his death, caused by the very person Yu Xiaogang had trained, shattered him completely.
Yu Xiaogang's chest tightened as grief and guilt tore at him.
His nephew and his disciple—each one held a place like a son in his heart.
And now, one had killed the other.
Cruel. Too cruel. Heaven itself was cruel to him.
Taking a deep breath, Yu Xiaogang steadied himself. His eyes hardened.
His nephew was gone, but his disciple could not die too.
No matter what, he had to stop Yu Luomian.
Yu Luomian turned his gaze toward Yu Xiaogang and Flender.
His eyes burned blue, glowing with condensed lightning. Even without attacking yet, the air around him crackled with static pressure.
"Yu Xiaogang," he said coldly, "you intend to stop me?"
"Second Uncle," Yu Xiaogang answered in pain, "Xiao San's ability carries venom, yes, but it isn't nearly potent enough to kill Tianheng. There must be some other cause!"
"Hmph!"
Yu Luomian sneered, and a flash of lightning burst from his body, striking Yu Xiaogang square in the chest.
The thunderbolt hit like a hammer. Yu Xiaogang spat a mouthful of blood and staggered backward. Only Flender's quick catch kept him standing.
"You think me blind? If it wasn't his poison, what—Tianheng killed himself?"
Yu Luomian stepped forward, his killing intent surging.
No one could stop him now.
What "rules"?
The Great Spirit Arena belonged to the six major factions—they made the rules.
And those rules would not save Tang San.
He must die.
The representatives of the six great clans had already gathered, but none dared intervene.
Yu Tianheng was Yu Yuanzhen's grandson—the Blue Lightning Tyrant Dragon Clan's direct heir.
If Yu Luomian failed to avenge him, their family would become the laughingstock of the entire world.
And truly, Tang San was in the wrong—after their surrender, he had delayed the treatment, leading to Yu Tianheng's death.
If Yu Luomian killed him now, no one could call it unjust.
Nearby, Dugu Feng stood silently by the platform, expression calm and detached.
Yu Tianheng's death had come from his hand as well—through a subtle surge of energy within Dugu Yan's pearl, adding a fatal dose of venom.
The enmity between the Clear Sky Sect and the Blue Lightning Clan was now sealed.
A perfect conclusion to a perfect battle.
And now, he thought, came the final act—the heroic father's dramatic rescue. Dugu Feng could hardly wait to watch Tang Hao's entrance.
"Second Uncle, don't!"
Yu Xiaogang shouted, struggling to his feet. "You can't harm Xiao San—his identity is special!"
Yu Luomian's rage deepened—Yu Xiaogang sounded desperate, perhaps delusional.
What "special"? A Blue Silver Grass spirit—what identity could that possibly signify?
Yu Yuanzhen had told him only that his nephew had trained a talented control-type disciple named Tang San, with a peculiar martial soul. Nothing more.
Never once had he mentioned anything about a secret legacy.
Yu Luomian admitted Tang San had skill, but the boy had killed the family's future. No excuse could absolve that.
He didn't even bother to argue. Words no longer mattered.
A sharp crack of thunder split the air as a spear of lightning formed in his hand.
He raised it—
—and hurled it straight at Tang San.
The blue bolt ripped through the sky like the wrath of heaven itself. If it struck, Tang San wouldn't even leave ashes behind.
The boy's body froze.
In the elder's oppressive aura, he couldn't move a muscle.
Neither his poisons nor his hidden weapons, nor even his second martial soul, the Clear Sky Hammer, could respond.
The difference between them was too vast—like a mortal facing a god.
Despair flooded Tang San's chest. Was this how he would die?
"Xiao San!"
"No! He mustn't die!"
"Ahhhh!"
Flender and Zhao Wuji shouted simultaneously, trying to rush forward, desperate to shield him.
But Yu Luomian's speed was overwhelming—they couldn't possibly reach in time.
Still, they moved. Because they knew.
Tang Hao was nearby.
Even if it was just an act, they had to play their part.
Dugu Feng closed his eyes briefly, whispering in his heart—Now, Tang Hao. Appear.
When he opened them again, the stage had changed.
A figure stood between Tang San and the thunderbolt—tall, broad-shouldered, rough-clothed, with unkempt hair and an aura that made the air itself tremble.
"A worthless dragon dares to harm my son? Get lost."
His voice rolled across the entire arena like distant thunder, powerful and commanding.
Every spectator flinched beneath its weight.
Before anyone could react, the blazing lightning stopped—caught effortlessly in midair.
Tang Hao hadn't even moved visibly, yet Yu Luomian's thunder had vanished as if swallowed by the earth.
The legendary Haotian Douluo had arrived—in the grandest, most dramatic way imaginable.
Tang San stared, awestruck, tears gathering instantly in his eyes.
"Father!"
That single word burst from his chest, trembling with relief and reverence.
Moments from death, rescued by the man he loved and longed for most—Tang San was overwhelmed, his heart surging.
My father… a mighty spirit master?
It was almost too unreal.
The man before him—this disheveled, weathered figure—was the same blacksmith who had raised him, taught him to forge, once seen as a broken drunk.
Yet now he stood like a mountain, radiating unstoppable dominance.
For Tang San, it felt like waking from a dream to find himself inside another.
"Your Majesty Haotian…"
Yu Luomian's voice trembled slightly.
"Even if Tang San is your son," he forced out, his tone cold, "that doesn't excuse murder on the dueling stage. He killed with poison—surely even you can't deny that!"
(END CHAPTER)
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