Douluo: When the piano sounds, the hidden weapon returns to the factory

As Feng Yao slowly approached, Ning Rongrong unconsciously clenched the hem of her dress. She tilted her head back, her lips slightly parted, but ultimately remained silent, only murmuring. Sunlight filtered through the leaves, casting dappled patterns of light on her delicate face.

Through the accounts of Bone Douluo and Sword Douluo, she had learned everything that had happened to Feng Yao at the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile School. The descriptions of his strength and cunning contrasted sharply with the image of him in her memory of a refined young man who spent his days playing the zither and was detached from worldly affairs.

Feng Yao approached slowly, his gaze sweeping lightly over Ning Rongrong. A hint of amusement flashed in his eyes, and a barely perceptible smile appeared on his lips—it seemed that this little princess of the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile School had already learned quite a bit from her two grandfathers.

Without pausing, he walked straight past Ning Rongrong, his clothes carrying a faint scent of pine. The sunlight cast a long shadow, which fell perfectly on Ning Rongrong's petite figure.

"Wait! Xiao Feng!"

Ning Rongrong suddenly spoke, her voice tinged with urgency. She instinctively reached out, but withdrew her hand just before touching Feng Yao's sleeve.

Feng Yao paused slightly, but didn't turn around. His voice was so calm it betrayed no emotion: "There's nothing more to say between us."

Feng Yao's eyes flickered slightly as Ning Rongrong lifted her skirt and quickly caught up, blocking his way. She raised her pretty face, her emerald green eyes filled with stubbornness. Just as she spoke, an invisible wave of soul power quietly emanated from Feng Yao's body.

The moment the domain expanded, all surrounding sounds seemed to be completely shut out. Falling leaves froze in mid-air, and even the sunlight became hazy. Within this absolutely controlled space, no sound could reach the outside world.

“I apologize to you on behalf of Grandpa Gu.” Ning Rongrong clenched her small hands, but her voice was unusually firm. “But you must give me an explanation.” Her skirt swayed gently in the air currents of the area, and the glass hairpin in her hair shimmered with a faint light.

Feng Yao lowered his gaze to the girl who always followed him in cultivation, a complex emotion flashing in his eyes. The air within the domain seemed to become even more stagnant, and even breathing became clearly audible.

Feng Yao raised an eyebrow, observing the suddenly courageous girl before him with great interest. His fingertips lightly caressed the strings of the Fuxi Qin in his arms, producing a meaningful ringing sound: "A verbal apology?" He chuckled softly. "I only believe in tangible things. However..."

He suddenly leaned down to meet Ning Rongrong's gaze: "Your so-called 'explanation' has quite intrigued me." A hint of amusement flashed in his eyes. "What? Are you here to seek justice for that little rabbit?"

A ripple of emotion stirred in Ning Rongrong's emerald eyes, her chest heaving slightly. She took a deep breath, the gemstone on her glass hairpin swaying gently with her movement. "It's not just Xiao Wu," her voice suddenly firm, "the Oscar affair is also related to you, isn't it?"

A flicker of surprise crossed Feng Yao's face, but he quickly regained his composure. He straightened up and nodded with utter calm: "So?" He plucked a string with his fingertips. "What explanation do you want?"

Before Ning Rongrong could answer, he suddenly leaned closer, his warm breath brushing against her ear: "In my opinion," his voice suddenly turned cold, "must have been quite 'torturous' back then, right?"

Taking a step back, Feng Yao casually adjusted his cuffs: "A food-type Soul Master that Ning Fengzhi looks down on," a mocking smile played on his lips, "I think he's a rough gem. He just needs a little guidance." As he looked up, a strange light flashed in his eyes, "He should be very happy right now."

Anger blazed in Ning Rongrong's emerald eyes, and her slender fingers clenched into fists: "Despicable!" Her voice trembled, and her glass hair ornaments jingled with her movements.

Feng Yao chuckled dismissively, casually plucking a string: "Despicable?" He paced slowly around Ning Rongrong, his robes fluttering within his domain despite the lack of wind. "This was Oscar's own choice."

He suddenly stopped, leaned down and whispered in Ning Rongrong's ear, "He has won the woman he desires, and we have gained the help of a food-related genius." His warm breath brushed against her earlobe, "And your father no longer needs to worry about your marriage."

As he straightened up, a hint of amusement flashed in his eyes: "As for you," he paused meaningfully, "weren't you also relieved at the time?"

Feng Yao turned and walked towards the edge of the domain, his voice as fleeting as the wind: "Such a happy ending for everyone." He glanced back with a smile, but his eyes were devoid of warmth. "How can it be described as 'despicable'?"

Ning Rongrong's pupils contracted sharply, her slender fingers gripping the hem of her skirt tightly until her knuckles turned pale. "You're just making excuses!" Her voice trembled slightly. "What right do you have to manipulate Oscar's life like this?!"

Upon hearing this, Feng Yao's smile deepened. He elegantly raised his hand, a wisp of soul power flowing between his fingertips: "Solicitation of reason?" he retorted softly, a hint of mockery flashing in his eyes, "Then, my dear Miss Rongrong..."

He suddenly stepped forward, his golden eyes staring directly at Ning Rongrong: "Wasn't your life trajectory planned by Sect Master Ning himself?" His voice was soft, yet every word was piercing. "If he can do it, why can't I?"

These words were like a sharp sword, piercing Ning Rongrong's most vulnerable spot. Her lips trembled slightly, wanting to refute, but all the words caught in her throat. Her usually bright green eyes were now filled with shock and confusion, and even her petite body swayed slightly.

Feng Yao gently patted Ning Rongrong's shoulder, a gesture that seemed intimate yet carried an irresistible force. He leaned close to the girl's ear, his voice as soft as a lover's whisper, yet each word was like a knife: "Rongrong," he lightly touched her shoulder with his fingertips, "the laws of this world are so cruel—the weak are never worthy of controlling their own destiny."

He straightened up, a cold light flashing in his golden eyes: "Just like the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile School today." His slender fingers traced the strings of the Fuxi Qin, producing a clear, resonant sound. "If I weren't strong enough, I'd probably already be a prisoner of your sect, wouldn't I?"

Sunlight streamed through the room, casting varying shades of shadow on his handsome profile. A smile played on his lips, but his eyes were chillingly cold: "You tell me... isn't that the truth?"

Ning Rongrong gripped her skirt tightly, tilting her head back to look directly into Feng Yao's eyes: "So what exactly do you want?"

Upon hearing this, Feng Yao gave her a playful once-over, then suddenly chuckled, "What do I want?" He leaned forward slightly, his golden eyes flashing with a dangerous light, "It was clearly your Seven Treasure Glazed Tile School that struck first, and now you're asking me what I want?"

"But things always have to come to an end," Ning Rongrong said, her voice trembling slightly as she tried to stand firm.

Feng Yao straightened up, casually stroking the strings of his zither: "You've certainly acquired some of the demeanor of a sect leader." He turned and left, his voice drifting on the wind, "Unfortunately, you're not yet qualified to talk about results."

As his words fell, the invisible domain vanished instantly. Ning Rongrong stood frozen, watching Feng Yao's figure gradually disappear into the depths of the academy. Sunlight shone on her again, but it couldn't dispel the chill spreading through her heart.

Just as Feng Yao's figure disappeared around the corner of the academy corridor, a ripple like water suddenly appeared in the space beside Ning Rongrong. Two figures slowly emerged from the void like ink spreading across the sky—Gu Rong's withered fingers were still in the posture of tearing space, while Chen Xin's snow-white robes fluttered gently in the aftershocks of soul power.

Chen Xin, clutching the Seven Kill Sword, sharply scanned the direction Feng Yao had gone. His snow-white, sword-like eyebrows furrowed slightly, and the sword aura around him lingered, clearly indicating that he had been on guard in secret.

Ning Rongrong then snapped out of her daze. The sunlight was still bright, but it couldn't dispel the chill that lingered in her heart.

Gu Rong and Chen Xin flashed to Ning Rongrong's side. Gu Rong's withered hand urgently grasped his granddaughter's shoulder, his voice hoarse: "Rongrong, what did that boy say? Did he agree?"

Ning Rongrong's eyes were dull and lifeless, her lips parted slightly but she ultimately remained silent. Her slender fingers unconsciously twisted the hem of her clothes, as if she had lost her soul.

Gu Rong wanted to ask more questions, but Chen Xin stopped him with a glance. The white-robed Sword Douluo looked at his granddaughter's distraught appearance, a hint of heartache flashing in his usually cold eyes. He sighed softly and patted his old friend's shoulder: "Let's go, old bones. We'll talk about it when we get back."

Gu Rong glanced at his granddaughter, then at his old friend, and finally drew a line in the air with his withered finger. The space rippled like a curtain of water, and the three figures gradually disappeared into it, leaving only a few fallen leaves swirling in place.

On the other side, the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile School.

Inside the main hall, Ning Fengzhi sat quietly before a gilded table, holding a teacup, yet he hesitated to put it down. Wisps of tea smoke rose, forming a hazy mist before his eyes, making his usually wise eyes appear unfocused. The documents on the table had been laid out for some time, and the vermilion brush rested beside the inkstone, its ink already dried.

With a spatial fluctuation, Gu Rong and Chen Xin, carrying Ning Rongrong, stepped out from the void. Ning Fengzhi's teacup trembled slightly, and a few drops of tea splashed onto the table, only then did he come back to his senses.

His gaze fell on his daughter's dim eyes, and Ning Fengzhi's brows furrowed almost imperceptibly; he already understood. He gently set down his teacup, his gilded sleeve brushing across the table to wipe away the few drops of tea stains.

"Rongrong," he called softly, a loving smile spreading across his face, "How did it go?"

Ning Rongrong gently shook her head, the glass hair ornaments rustling softly with her movement: "Daughter... doesn't know."

"Don't know?" Ning Fengzhi repeated the word, but a glint of light flashed in his eyes. He tapped the table lightly with his fingertips, and the reflection in the teacup swayed slightly—since Feng Yao had not explicitly refused, there was still room for maneuver in this game.

Ning Fengzhi gently stroked the gemstone on the scepter with his fingertips and asked softly, "Rongrong, what did he say to you?"

Ning Rongrong pursed her lips and recounted her conversation with Feng Yao. When she spoke of Feng Yao's words, "The weak are not worthy of controlling their own destiny," her voice trembled slightly; and when she mentioned the Oscars, she gripped the hem of her skirt tightly.

Gu Rong's withered fingers tapped the armrest of the chair, producing a dull thud: "Feng Zhi, what exactly is that kid up to?"

Ning Fengzhi gently stroked the scepter, seven-colored light swirling across his gentle face: "Uncle Gu." He shook his head slightly, "Although it's difficult to fathom his full intentions, since he hasn't explicitly refused..."

His fingertips lightly touched the teacup on the table, causing a subtle ripple. "That means there's still room for maneuver." He looked up, a glint of shrewdness in his eyes. "However..."

A gust of wind blew past the window, ruffling his loose hair: "We need to wait for the most opportune moment."

Gu Rong narrowed his cloudy eyes slightly, his withered fingers tracing a line in the air: "Feng Zhi, do you think that kid might be bluffing?" His voice was hoarse and low. "If he's pretending to play along while secretly informing the Spirit Hall..."

Ning Fengzhi lightly tapped the table with his fingertips, causing ripples to spread across the water in the gilded teacup. "Uncle Gu's concerns are not without merit." He looked up at the deepening twilight outside the hall. "From today onwards, increase the number of patrolling disciples and strengthen defenses throughout the sect."

The scepter tapped lightly on the ground, its seven-jeweled brilliance shimmering. "As for the negotiations," a profound glint flashed in his eyes, "I will find another opportunity to speak with that child in detail."

Upon hearing this, Gu Rong nodded, his withered figure fading into the void like ink, leaving only a hoarse voice echoing in the hall, "This old man will go and make the arrangements."

Ning Fengzhi's gaze softened as it fell upon his daughter's distraught face, then he gave Chen Xin a meaningful look. The white-clad Sword Douluo understood, and silently retreated into the inner hall, carrying the Seven Kill Sword. His snow-white robes drew a graceful arc as he turned.

Once only the father and daughter remained in the hall, Ning Fengzhi slowly stepped forward, his gilded robe trailing softly on the jade floor. He gently stroked Ning Rongrong's hair, his voice as tender as a spring breeze caressing willow branches:

"Rongrong."

Ning Rongrong looked up blankly, her usually bright emerald green eyes now misty, like a lost fawn looking helpless. She opened her mouth, but in the end, she only gently clutched her father's sleeve.

Ning Fengzhi sighed deeply, his fingertips gently stroking his daughter's hair: "Rongrong, it's Daddy who's sorry." His voice was low and sincere, "As a father, I never intended to control your life. But as the sect leader of the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile School," he paused, a complex look flashing in his eyes, "many times, I have to make some difficult decisions."

Ning Rongrong tilted her head back, her glassy eyes filled with confusion and struggle. She forced a smile: "It's okay, Daddy. I just—" Her fingers unconsciously twisted the hem of her clothes—"can't tell if it's my fault, Oscar's fault, or Feng Yao's fault."

Ning Fengzhi's gaze softened, and his warm hand gently landed on his daughter's head: "Silly child," his voice was like a babbling brook, "the entanglements of human relationships in this world are never a one-sided matter of right and wrong. You have your concerns, Oscar has his thoughts, and Feng Yao has his calculations."

Her fingertips gently brushed through her daughter's chestnut hair: "It's just that your individual problems, by some strange twist of fate, all pointed to the same ending." Her voice trailed off, "Perhaps this isn't what you and Oscar expected, but it must be a situation meticulously designed by Feng Yao."

(End of this chapter)