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

Tiandou City, Prince's Mansion.

The sunlight cast long and short shadows of Xue Beng's anxious figure. He paced back and forth in the hall, which was covered with a scarlet carpet, his ornate boots making a disorderly sound. The water clock dripped outside the window, each beat like a tap on his taut nerves.

"Why is there still no news?" He looked at the tightly closed carved gate for the umpteenth time, his fingers unconsciously stroking the jade pendant at his waist. In the sunlight, his handsome face, which usually carried a cynical expression, was now filled with gloom.

The servants stood silently in the corner, barely breathing. The only sounds in the hall were the clinking of the jade ornaments at his waist and the increasingly hurried footsteps.

Just then, a commotion suddenly broke out at the gate of the mansion. Prince Xuexing was seen being carried in by a burly man, as tall as an iron tower, as if he were a chick. His magnificent princely robes were all wrinkled and disheveled.

"Royal Uncle!" Xue Beng exclaimed, rushing forward in three strides. At this moment, he could no longer care about this rude behavior—since the palace was completely controlled by Xue Qinghe's forces, he, the fourth prince, had to live in the Xue Xing Prince's Mansion, walking on thin ice every day.

Prince Snowstar staggered as he was put down, but immediately grabbed Avalanche's arm.

Avalanche hurriedly supported the swaying Prince Xuexing, his voice filled with barely concealed urgency: "Uncle, how is he?"

Prince Xuexing, dragged along by the Third Elder at breakneck speed, was now pale-faced and panting heavily, leaning against a carved pillar. The Third Elder stood beside him, arms crossed, and said in a deep voice, "You guessed right, the palace is under full martial law. It seems they're preparing to make their move."

"No, not only that," Prince Xue Xing finally caught his breath, his beard trembling with each rapid breath, "This morning at court, Xue Qinghe suddenly dispatched the Royal Knights to reinforce the defenses of Tiandou City." He gripped Xue Beng's arm tightly, "Once the Knights are in position, that's probably when they'll launch their attack."

Xue Beng's knuckles turned white from the force, his voice filled with barely suppressed anxiety: "We don't have much time left! Uncle Wang, is there really no room for maneuver from Senior Dugu Bo?"

He knew better than anyone that if the Poison Douluo hadn't intervened to detoxify him and prolong his life, allowing his father to reveal the truth, all his actions would have been labeled as treason.

Prince Xuexing sighed deeply, his wrinkles appearing even deeper in the sunlight: "That old poisoner, Dugu Bo..." He shook his head, "The Seven Treasure Glazed Tile School is too powerful; he doesn't want to get involved in this mess."

Avalanche's gaze suddenly sharpened to a knife-like point. He slowly clenched his fist, his knuckles cracking crisply. "Now... there's only one way."

"What method?" Prince Xuexing hurriedly asked, a glimmer of hope flashing in his cloudy eyes.

"Please have the three elders of the Haotian Sect lead us into the palace," Xue Beng said, enunciating each word clearly, "to forcibly rescue Father and send him directly to Senior Dugu." A cold smile played on his lips. "He wouldn't refuse such a favor offered to him, as long as Father is still alive."

Without the Emperor's personal edict of succession, no matter how powerful Xue Qinghe is, he can never rightfully sit on that throne.

A resolute glint flashed in Xue Beng's eyes as he thought to himself, "If I can anger Xue Qinghe and force him to..."

Upon hearing this, Prince Xuexing's pupils contracted sharply, and his aged fingers trembled involuntarily: "Avalanche, are you... truly sure?"

"Uncle Wang." Xue Beng suddenly looked up, his eyes burning with a desperate rage. "Rather than die an unjust death like my eldest and third brothers, I'd rather fight to the death!" He ripped off the jade pendant from his waist, a symbol of his princely status, and slammed it heavily on the table. "Even if I bear the stigma of rebellion, I'll accept it!"

The Third Elder watched coldly, a barely perceptible hint of contempt flashing in his eyes. He thought to himself, "This brat is ruthless; he'd even scheme against his own father for the throne." His rough fingers unconsciously rubbed together, alarm bells ringing in his mind: "If he truly gains power, I must be doubly vigilant in the future."

In the eyes of the Haotian Sect members, blood ties are of paramount importance. Every clansman is the sect's most precious asset, how could they be so easily used as bargaining chips? Xue Beng kept saying he wanted to "save his father," but in reality, he was just forcing the emperor to abdicate—forcing Xue Qinghe to take action, and also forcing the old emperor to his death.

Ignoring the strange look in the Third Elder's eyes, Xue Beng bowed respectfully, sunlight casting a shadow on his lowered eyelashes. "Tonight, this junior is willing to personally guide the three elders." As he straightened up, a resolute, all-or-nothing glint flashed in his eyes. "I request that the three of you accompany me tonight to explore the palace."

The Third Elder snorted coldly, his wide sleeves fluttering in the autumn wind. He gave Xue Beng one last deep look, his figure gradually fading away like a ghost: "Understood." Before he finished speaking, he had already vanished into a black shadow, leaving only a few paulownia leaves shaken off by the force of his energy to slowly drift down.

Avalanche remained bowed until he was certain the Third Elder's presence had completely vanished, then slowly straightened up. His eyes, gazing towards the palace, held a turbulent undercurrent.

A cold, mocking smile curled at the corner of Xue Beng's lips, a hint of contempt flashing in his eyes. Having feigned a life of privilege since childhood, how could he miss the disdain in the Third Elder's eyes?
"Ha," he turned to look out the window, his fingertips unconsciously stroking the jade pendant at his waist. "A bunch of stray dogs, driven to hide by the Spirit Hall." Sunlight cast dappled shadows on his grim face. "If it weren't for Tang Yuehua maneuvering around in Heaven Dou City, they probably wouldn't even have enough to eat."

He suddenly gripped the jade pendant tightly, his knuckles turning white from the force.

Thinking of this, Xue Beng's gaze became more serious. He stared at the majestic outline of the palace in the distance, his brows furrowing deeply.

"The strength of these elders of the Haotian Sect..." he murmured, his fingertips unconsciously tapping on the window frame. Although he didn't know their exact cultivation levels, based on his understanding of that old fox Ning Fengzhi—if the Sword and Bone Douluo arrived together, the sect leader of the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile School would definitely come in person as well.

Prince Xuexing gazed at Xue Beng's unpredictable profile, sighed deeply, and placed his aged hand heavily on Xue Beng's shoulder: "Child, your uncle understands," his voice filled with unspeakable weariness and tenderness, "Now, these old bones of mine can't offer much help."

He shakily took out a tiger tally from his robes, its metallic sheen gleaming coldly in the sunlight: "The three hundred personal guards in the manor are all experts at the Soul Master level or above." He paused, then added, "There's also a Soul Saint guest elder; he owes me a life back then, so let him accompany you to the palace."

Avalanche jerked his head up, meeting Prince Xuexing's cloudy yet resolute gaze. The old man patted his shoulder, his wrinkles revealing untold hardships: "If... if things are hopeless—" his voice suddenly choked, "then let him lead you out to fight your way as far away as possible."

Under the sunlight, Xue Beng's nose suddenly stung with tears. He bowed deeply, his forehead almost touching the ground, and it took him a long time to straighten up. When he turned around, his fists in his sleeves were clenched white, and his retreating figure cast a resolute shadow down the corridor.

Meanwhile, inside the main hall of the Tang Clan, Tang San frowned deeply: "Aunt, why won't you let me participate this time?" His voice was filled with barely concealed urgency, and his eyes gleamed with confusion.

The change of imperial power is both a risk and an opportunity for the newly established Tang Clan. With the support of the Haotian Sect, the probability of success should be quite high.

A complex expression flickered across Tang Yuehua's brow as her fingertips unconsciously traced the rim of her teacup. She understood perfectly well that having Tang San participate in this operation would greatly benefit the Tang Clan. Yet, whenever this thought arose, an indescribable worry welled up within her.

“Xiao San.” She sighed softly, her gaze falling on Tang San’s features, which bore a striking resemblance to that person’s. If her seventh uncle were to see this face—the thought had barely formed when the teacup in her hand trembled slightly, spilling a few drops of amber tea onto the table.

Tang Yuehua gently set down her teacup, the porcelain striking the sandalwood with a crisp sound. She gazed at Tang San, her eyes revealing the worry characteristic of an elder: "San, you must understand, this is no ordinary Soul Master competition. Even Title Douluos can move freely, but if you get involved..."

She rose and walked to the window, the sunlight gilding her elegant silhouette. "If it succeeds, the Tang Clan might get a share. But if it fails..." As she turned, the subtle patterns on her palace dress shimmered in the sunlight. "Would the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile School tolerate a hostile force establishing itself in Heaven Dou City?"

Her fingers lightly traced the window frame, her voice growing increasingly low: "The Haotian Sect had no way out, which is why they took such a risk. But your Tang Sect—" Her words suddenly paused, her gaze falling on the newly planted flowers and plants in the courtyard, "These seedlings can't withstand a storm."

Tang San fell into deep thought upon hearing this, his fingers unconsciously tracing the moonlit night over the Twenty-Four Bridges. His aunt's words had indeed enlightened him—sects were bound by blood ties, and even without taking risks, the Tang Clan could benefit.

“I understand.” He looked up, his anxiety turning into determination. Tang Yuehua reached out with relief and gently stroked the top of his head.

“What you need to do now,” Tang Yuehua’s voice was gentle yet firm, “is to help the Tang Clan stand firm amidst this storm.” Her gaze swept over the hidden weapons hanging on the wall. “When you are strong enough…” Before she finished speaking, Tang San already understood the deeper meaning.

Tang San nodded solemnly, his voice steady and powerful: "Aunt, I understand what to do." Tang Yuehua gazed at her nephew, who was already showing signs of becoming a sect leader. His sharply defined profile gradually overlapped with the Tang Hao she remembered. A complex emotion welled up in her eyes as she softly said, "Now you are the sect leader, bearing the future of the entire sect on your shoulders."

Before he could finish speaking, Tang San suddenly looked up, his deep eyes, so like Tang Hao's, gleaming with unwavering determination: "Aunt, I promise you." His right hand unconsciously went to his chest. "One day, I will make sure Father returns to the Clear Sky Sect with honor."

Tang Yuehua's eyes instantly welled up with tears. Her hand trembled slightly as she reached out to straighten Tang San's collar. "Good boy," she said, her voice soft as a sigh, "Auntie has always believed that you can do what none of us could."

Inside the Crown Prince's Eastern Palace.

Qian Renxue, dressed in a plain white nightgown, paced back and forth in the bedchamber, her light yet unsteady footsteps reflected on the gilded floor tiles. Her usually calm golden eyes now shimmered, and her fingertips unconsciously traced the dark patterns on her cuffs. Years of lurking, countless days and nights of forbearance, would finally reveal their ultimate answer tonight.

"Xue'er." Feng Yao leaned against the carved pillar, watching his young master's rare moment of loss of composure, and couldn't help but chuckle. The next second, he appeared like a ghost, his arms outstretched, pulling her firmly into his embrace. "My little darling," his voice, tinged with laughter, whispered in her ear, "If you keep swaying like this, my eyes will go blurry."

Qian Renxue tilted her head back, her golden hair flowing like water through Feng Yao's fingers. She rarely showed such a girlish tenderness, her red lips slightly pouting: "For over twenty years..." Her voice held barely suppressed joy, "I can finally take off this disguise, and you won't even let me be happy for a moment?"

Feng Yao's long, slender fingers ran through her dazzling golden hair, but his gaze gradually turned serious. "Xue'er," he suddenly tightened his arms around her waist, "the closer we get to the finish line, the more careful we must be. I have a feeling... tonight won't be that simple."

Feng Yao's fingers tightened unconsciously, leaving a few wrinkles on Qian Renxue's brocade robe. Although Dugu Bo had already given instructions, the thought of Tang San being a fellow transmigrator still sent a chill down his spine.

Even though he had already planned to weaken Tang San's opportunities, that kid still managed to fight his way out of Hell Road covered in blood. This strange luck made him wary.

Seeing Feng Yao's tense expression, Qian Renxue couldn't help but smile, gently tapping his nose with her slender fingertips: "What? Are you worried that old fox Ning Fengzhi will cause trouble?"

Feng Yao frowned slightly, his fingers unconsciously stroking the jade pendant at his waist: "It's not impossible."

"Don't worry~" Qian Renxue proudly raised her chin, her golden hair shimmering in the candlelight. "I already sent people to investigate. I heard that Ning Fengzhi sent Chen Xin with Ning Rongrong to hunt for soul rings." A sly glint flashed in her eyes. "Since he knows your true identity but chooses to remain silent, he must already..."

"Going to hunt for a soul ring at this time?" Feng Yao suddenly interrupted, his eyes suddenly sharpening.

Qian Renxue's smile froze instantly, her red lips parted slightly: "You mean—" Her voice suddenly turned cold, "what tricks might Ning Fengzhi be playing?"

Feng Yao slowly shook his head: "Given Ning Fengzhi's shrewdness and calculating nature, if he truly intended to acquiesce, why wouldn't he come to congratulate you, his prized student, and lend a hand?" A glint of shrewdness flashed in his eyes. "With the wisdom of the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Sect Master, he certainly wouldn't miss such a favor."

His gaze deepened, and a multitude of possibilities flashed through his mind. Suddenly, a thought struck him like lightning—"The Haotian Sect!"

Qian Renxue was taken aback at first, then covered her mouth and chuckled, "Xiao Feng, aren't you being too nervous? With that group..."

Feng Yao didn't respond, his brows furrowing even more deeply. Ning Fengzhi's unusual silence these past few days had now formed a clear thread in his mind.

Feng Yao stared at the flickering candlelight, his voice low and murmured: "That old fox... hopefully, there won't be many more like him."

Upon hearing this, Qian Renxue's expression changed drastically, her bright eyes instantly freezing. She knew Feng Yao all too well—for him to be so wary, the situation was probably more serious than she had imagined.

“Xue’er,” Feng Yao suddenly turned around, placing his hands on her shoulders, “pass down the order: without your personal confirmation, no one is to set foot in the palace—including those holding your token.” His fingertips were slightly cold. “Please have the two elders guard Xueye’s palace day and night; go there now.”

Qian Renxue's red lips trembled slightly, but she ultimately didn't ask any further questions. She simply parted her lips slightly, and wisps of soul power transformed into invisible sound transmission with each movement of her lips. Immediately, the clanging of armor echoed outside the hall, and the entire Eastern Palace began to operate rapidly, like a sophisticated machine.

Qian Renxue's fingertips trembled slightly, her voice so soft it was almost carried away by a breeze: "Little Wind... Will the Haotian Sect really come?"

Feng Yao stared intently at the distant, snow-covered palace, his eyes sharp as knives: "Most likely." His voice was deep and somber. "Currently, within the Heavenly Dou Realm, only the Clear Sky Sect has the strength to contend with the Spirit Hall. Add to that Ning Fengzhi's unusual behavior these past few days..." His fingertips unconsciously rubbed together. "The only uncertainty now is how many elders they have brought."

Qian Renxue's face gradually lost its color in the sunlight. She recalled the time when her father perished, and now her chess game, which she had painstakingly built up over twenty years, was also gone. A trace of blood appeared on her red lips as she bit them. Even if she were to ask for help from inside the palace now, it would probably be too late.

Qian Renxue gently tugged at Feng Yao's sleeve, the sunlight casting a soft golden glow on her delicate profile: "Little Feng, why don't you go to the Spirit Hall for help?" Her voice held a rare hesitation.

Upon hearing this, Feng Yao suddenly turned around, his fingertip lightly poking her smooth forehead: "What are you thinking in that little head of yours? Do you think I don't know?" His tone was full of helpless indulgence. "Xue'er, even if tonight's efforts fail," he suddenly lowered his voice, "how could the foundation we've built in Tiandou over so many years be easily crumbled?"

Qian Renxue's pupils contracted slightly, then she suddenly realized: "You mean Ning Fengzhi?"

“That old fox,” Feng Yao suddenly chuckled, toying with a strand of her golden hair between his fingers, “is probably holding a teacup right now, waiting for us to come and negotiate.” A gentle breeze carried his chuckled voice among the pillars, “After all, what businessmen excel at is playing both sides.”

A struggle flashed in Qian Renxue's eyes, and her fingers unconsciously tightened around her sleeves: "Xiao Feng, why don't we go see him now?" Her voice was filled with resentment—she simply couldn't accept that twenty years of hard work had gone to waste.

Feng Yao shook his head slightly, sunlight casting a faint shadow between his brows: "Going now will only make Ning Fengzhi demand an exorbitant price." He gave a helpless smile, "His demands are probably unacceptable even to you and His Holiness the Pope."

"You haven't even talked to them, how do you know?" Before Qian Renxue could finish speaking, Feng Yao suddenly revealed a mischievous smile.

“I bet,” he deliberately drawled, “that old fox will probably make me marry Ning Rongrong.”

Upon hearing this, Qian Renxue's expression changed drastically. Suddenly, she felt that the great cause she had painstakingly built over the past twenty years didn't seem so important anymore. She abruptly reached out and grabbed Feng Yao's ear, her fingertips trembling slightly: "At a time like this, you seem to be laughing quite happily?" Her tone carried a hint of anger, yet also revealed a subtle, almost imperceptible tension.

Feng Yao gently grasped her wrist, his touch so tender it could melt hearts: "As long as I'm with you..." He softly placed her hand against his heart, "I'm incredibly happy every single day."

Qian Renxue's cheeks flushed crimson, even the tips of her ears turned a light pink. She pulled her hand back in embarrassment and annoyance: "I'm talking to you about serious matters!" As she turned around, the ends of her hair brushed against Feng Yao's nose, carrying a faint fragrance of orchids.
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"Moreover," a sharp glint flashed in Feng Yao's eyes, a confident smile curving his lips, "if the Haotian Sect only sends one or two elders, they might just become our prey."

Qian Renxue nodded slightly, a thoughtful look appearing in her golden eyes. Seeing this, Feng Yao gently stroked her hair: "It's still early. I'll go to Sunset Forest and ask Senior Dugu for help."

“Mm.” Qian Renxue readily agreed, remembering that she had tacitly approved of Feng Yao’s closeness with Dugu Yan, she naturally felt she should repay this debt of gratitude. Her fingertips unconsciously caressed the jade pendant at her waist, which still retained the warmth of Feng Yao’s palm.

A gentle breeze arose, and Feng Yao's figure vanished into the sunlight as a wisp of smoke. Qian Renxue gazed in the direction he had left, her red lips slightly pursed—in the end, this contest would be decided by strength.

(End of this chapter)