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

As the moon dipped westward and the palace lanterns dimmed, the banquet, rife with undercurrents, finally came to a close with the long, drawn-out announcement from the master of ceremonies.

Led by eunuchs in purple robes, the guests slowly emerged, their magnificent robes sweeping across the jade steps, casting shadows of varying depths under the palace lanterns. Ning Fengzhi lightly touched the Seven-Jeweled Glazed Pagoda in his sleeve, and before boarding his carriage, he glanced meaningfully back at the still-lit side hall; Marshal Ge Long's black iron boots echoed dully on the bluestone slabs, and his accompanying guards, holding torches, cast an exceptionally sharp shadow of him.

One after another, gilded and jade-inlaid carriages departed from the palace gates, the sound of their wheels rolling over the imperial road particularly clear in the night. As the dark blue curtains of the envoys' carriages were finally drawn, a fleeting glint of cold light could be vaguely seen within.

Inside the green-curtained carriage, the soft candlelight illuminated Tang San's solemn face. His slender fingers unconsciously traced the moonlit night over the Twenty-Four Bridges, his gaze fixed intently on Tang Yuehua opposite him: "Aunt, even with three Title Douluos joining forces, they still couldn't push Xue Beng onto the throne? Are Sword Douluo and Bone Douluo truly that powerful?"

Before he could finish speaking, the carriage's bumpy ride over the cobblestones caused the candlelight to flicker slightly. Tang San then realized with a start that a thin layer of sweat had appeared on his back.

"Fortunately, I listened to my aunt's advice." Tang San looked down at his palm. The three elders of the Clear Sky Sect had failed, so what could he, a high-level Soul Emperor, possibly do?
Tang Yuehua sighed softly, "It's not that the Sword and Bone Douluos are too strong, but rather that they haven't even made a move."

Tang San's pupils suddenly contracted, and his fingers unconsciously gripped the carriage window frame: "Could it be that the Heaven Dou royal family is hiding other Title Douluos?"

“It’s the Crown Prince,” Tang Yuehua said softly. “He secretly subdued Dugu Bo and even brought in two Title Douluos from the Spirit Hall to assist him.” Moonlight filtered through the carriage curtain, casting dappled shadows on her delicate face. “Even in a three-on-three situation, your fifth uncle and his group should have had the advantage, but…”

She suddenly leaned forward: "That boy named Feng Yao is not only a Soul Douluo, but also possesses a 100,000-year Soul Ring."

"Honorary Elder of the Spirit Hall. 100,000-year Spirit Ring."

Tang San's voice suddenly became hoarse, and the air in the entire carriage seemed to freeze instantly. His originally gentle eyes suddenly turned bloodshot, and the killing intent emanating from his body was so tangible that it stirred up a bone-chilling wind in the small space.

“Click——”

Tang Yuehua was horrified to discover that, faced with this overwhelming killing intent, even her ability to unleash her domain was completely suppressed! A chilling sense of suffocation washed over her like a tidal wave, and her slender fingers gripped the car wall tightly, her knuckles turning white from the force.

"The other woman."

She managed to squeeze out those two words, but her voice was instantly shattered by murderous intent. Outside the carriage curtain, the driver suddenly let out a shrill scream—he felt as if a ferocious beast had awakened behind him, and instinctively rolled off the carriage to escape for his life.

"Hissing and hissing—"

Driven by terrifying murderous intent, the two horses' eyes turned bloodshot, and they reared up in a frenzy. The carriage shook violently.

Tang Yuehua's broken cry, like a drop of dew falling into a boiling oil pot, briefly restored a sliver of clarity to Tang San's bloodshot eyes. He gripped the Twenty-Four Bridges Under the Moon tightly, his knuckles cracking under the strain, trying to lock the surging killing intent back into his heart.

But whenever the memories flashed back—the Spirit Hall's pursuit, that shattered lakeside—that murderous aura surged again like a bone-deep infection. At this moment, the murderous intent within him was like a ferocious beast tamed by etiquette and music, usually bound and caged by etiquette, but once it smelled the scent of hatred, it began to frantically crash against the shackles of reason.

"Auntie...I..." Tang San's voice was terribly hoarse, his forehead pressed against the carriage wall. The carriage was still speeding out of control, but his body was taut like a bow, as if he were wrestling with an invisible enemy.

Tang San looked at Tang Yuehua's pale face and rapidly heaving chest, his nails digging deeply into his palms. Blood seeped from between his fingers, and the stinging pain finally calmed his boiling killing intent slightly.

“Aunt,” his voice was hoarse, as if it had been sanded, “could you describe the situation in more detail?”

Tang Yuehua clutched her rapidly beating heart: "Fifth Uncle and the others are being held back by Dugu Bo and his two companions," she described haltingly, "that child named Feng Yao is gathering his strength in the rear."

"His soul skill fluctuations caused the entire palace to tremble. Fifth Uncle and the others judged that if this continued, there would inevitably be casualties."

As Tang San listened, the bloodlust in his eyes intensified. He lowered his head, the shadows obscuring his ferocious face, but the bulging veins on his neck betrayed the violence within him.

(Spirit Ring. 100,000-year Spirit Ring.)

This thought gnawed at his reason like a venomous snake. Although he couldn't be sure if the spirit ring came from Xiao Wu, the fact that Feng Yao was on the Spirit Hall's side was enough to condemn him to death in his mind.

The night wind howled. Tang San slowly raised his head, his bloodshot eyes gleaming with a beastly light in the darkness.

"Xiao Wu." He swore a blood oath in his heart, "I will definitely get to the bottom of this."

The moonlight shone on his clenched fist, and drops of blood fell onto the broken car body, like blooming spider lilies.

(No one involved will escape.)

The thought echoed in his mind. Tang Yuehua looked at his distorted profile and suddenly felt a chill—at this moment, Tang San seemed to have become a completely different stranger.

Tang San took a deep breath, suppressing his surging killing intent, and asked in a low voice, "Aunt, when will we leave Heaven Dou City?"

Moonlight cast varying shades of shadow on Tang Yuehua's delicate face: "Third Sister, power struggles are never black and white. The Crown Prince's ascension to the throne with the help of the Spirit Hall doesn't mean the Heaven Dou Empire has become our enemy." She lightly tapped the window frame with her fingertips. "Politics is the art of compromise. What we need to do is leverage existing power."

"When the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile School and the Star Luo Empire become our allies," she said, glancing meaningfully towards the imperial palace, "what does the Spirit Hall amount to?"

A bloodthirsty glint flashed in Tang San's eyes: "But Feng Yao must die! Without the Spirit Hall's help, how could he possibly..." His voice suddenly turned chilling, as if it came from the depths of hell, "That 100,000-year spirit ring is very likely..."

"Enough!" Tang Yuehua suddenly interrupted sharply. She rarely lost her composure: "You're no match for him right now!"

A night breeze swept through the hall, scattering her next whispered words: "If you still want the Tang Clan to have a foothold on this continent, pretend you know nothing." She stared into Tang San's bloodshot eyes, "Otherwise, not only will your painstakingly built Tang Clan be destroyed, but even that child's sacrifice will be meaningless."

The last sentence struck Tang San's heart like a hammer blow. He looked up abruptly and saw that Tang Yuehua's eyes were filled with tears—this was the first time she had mentioned that forbidden name.

(Endure, grow stronger, and wait for the right opportunity)

This thought took root in his heart, more deeply etched than any murderous intent.

“Crack—”

Tang San's fist sank deep into the wooden planks of the carriage, cracks spreading like a spiderweb across the intricately carved mahogany. He kept his head down, his expression obscured by the shadows, only the blood seeping from between his fingers gleaming brightly in the moonlight.

(Wind element. I will definitely get to the bottom of this.)

This thought took root in his mind. If that blood-red spirit ring was truly related to Xiao Wu, Tang San's pupils contracted sharply.

Even assuming, hypothetically, that spirit ring has nothing to do with Xiao Wu, Feng Yao's identity is definitely not simple. Tang San recalled the clues from the past few years—his extraordinary understanding of spirits when he awakened his spirit at age six, the astonishing talent he displayed at the Royal Academy at age twelve, and now, as a Soul Douluo, he had intimidated a Title Douluo.
(It's too perfect. So perfect it's unreal.)

He looked up abruptly, his eyes bloodshot. "Aunt, Feng Yao is definitely not just an ordinary genius." His voice was hoarse, as if scorched by fire. "From the age of six, every step he took seemed meticulously planned. I suspect his appearance in Heaven Dou was itself a scheme orchestrated by the Spirit Hall over a decade ago!"

The guess was astonishing, yet surprisingly reasonable. Moonlight streamed through the broken carriage window, illuminating the solemn faces of the aunt and niece. The lights of the distant palace still shone brightly, but seemed shrouded in an invisible mist.

“That’s why we should remain calm,” Tang Yuehua finally said softly, her fingertips tracing Tang San’s bloodied fist. “A tiger always lies in wait before it pounces on its prey.”

The night wind carried away her unfinished words. Tang San finally slowly loosened his fist. But the coldness in his eyes was more piercing than ever before.

The night was as dark as ink, and the glass lanterns of the East Palace swayed gently in the evening breeze. As soon as Qian Renxue and Feng Yao stepped into the palace, She Long's figure emerged from the shadows of the pillars like a ghost.

"Young Master," he knelt on one knee, his spear held horizontally before him, "Ning Fengzhi, along with two Douluo, Jian Gu, requests an audience."

Feng Yao and Qian Renxue exchanged a glance, and simultaneously curled their lips into a smile. It seemed that the old fox had finally decided to act.

“Thank you for bringing them here, Uncle She.” Qian Renxue’s fingertips lightly traced the newly replaced gilded tea set on the table. “Please ask Uncle Ci to be on guard; we may need to discuss some important matters tonight.”

She Long nodded deeply, his figure disappearing back into the darkness. The maids, who were placing the last few plates of fresh fruit and pastries on the jade table, immediately retreated silently upon seeing this.

Amidst the fragrant aroma of tea, the sound of unhurried footsteps echoed outside the hall. Ning Fengzhi, clad in a moon-white sect leader's robe, led the way; Gu Rong followed closely behind, his withered fingers always tucked into his sleeves; Chen Xin carried his sword, each step accompanied by a faint, audible sword hum.

As soon as the three of them crossed the threshold, She Long's aura completely disappeared.

The candlelight flickered in the hall, and three sharp gazes, like knives, scrutinized Qian Renxue and Feng Yao. The air seemed to freeze, with only the aroma of tea quietly spreading in the silence.

Ning Fengzhi gently stroked the scepter in his hand, then suddenly smiled, saying meaningfully, "I wonder if I should continue to call you Qinghe or address you as Miss Qian?"

Qian Renxue chuckled upon hearing this, twirling the gilded teacup halfway between her fingers: "It seems that Sect Leader Ning's people witnessed the palace coup that night very clearly."

Before she finished speaking, a dazzling golden light suddenly emanated from her. Her black dragon robe vanished like flowing water, replaced by a snow-white, gold-embroidered long dress; her Adam's apple disappeared, revealing a neck as graceful as a swan's; when the last trace of her disguise faded, standing before everyone was the Spirit Hall's young master, with golden hair reaching his waist and striking features. Facing Qian Renxue's sharp and aggressive demeanor and verbal attacks, Ning Fengzhi maintained a composed smile, summoning the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Pagoda, which slowly rotated in his palm, refracting a seven-colored light.

"I will continue to call you Qinghe," he said in a gentle, unhurried voice. "Over the years, it has taken me a long time to truly understand one thing—"

Suddenly, the tower shone brightly, and seven-colored precious light intertwined into a net inside the hall.

"As a support sect, the true essence of the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile School lies not in whether its support abilities can cover the entire battlefield," he gazed intently at Qian Renxue, "but in whether, at a crucial moment, it can use a precise support to completely turn the tide of battle."

These words were profound, both an interpretation of his own stance and a metaphor for the current situation. Feng Yao's fingertips paused slightly. He too had discerned the underlying meaning in Ning Fengzhi's words.

Upon hearing this, Qian Renxue gently tapped her slender fingers together, creating a crisp clapping sound in the quiet hall.

"As expected of the wielder of the world's number one support martial soul." Her golden eyes flashed, but her tone suddenly sharpened. "But have you ever considered that your absence at certain times might cause a rift in the trust of your companions?"

Ning Fengzhi gently stroked the glazed pagoda in his palm, the light reflecting off its surface casting shifting shadows on his gentle face: "This is precisely the profound meaning behind the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile School's requirement that every member of the clan must choose a Battle Soul Master as their partner."

He raised his eyes to look directly at Qian Renxue, his voice as gentle as a spring breeze: "Bound by blood, bound by marriage. Just like now—" The seven-colored light suddenly intensified, "Even when facing the Spirit Hall, the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile School is still willing to continue this tradition."

Feng Yao's fingertips paused subtly on the strings, causing ripples to spread within the barrier. He understood the olive branch in Ning Fengzhi's words—the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile School was willing to establish a more stable relationship with the Spirit Hall through marriage.

Qian Renxue paused slightly as she picked up the teacup, the gilded rim reflecting the glint in her eyes.

Ning Fengzhi gently stroked the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Pagoda with his fingertips, a knowing smile playing on his gentle, jade-like face: "The Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Sect is willing to fully cooperate, even submitting to the Spirit Hall." He paused slightly, and the shimmering light flowing across the pagoda suddenly froze. "Just grant me one condition—allow Rongrong and Feng Yao to marry."

"Cough!" Feng Yao nearly dropped his teacup, a rare look of embarrassment on his face. Qian Renxue narrowed her golden eyes and secretly glared at him.

"Why is Teacher so persistent?" She tapped her fingertips lightly on the table. "If the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile School truly submits, you can at least obtain one of the three elder positions within the hall." Her long golden hair swayed gently as she leaned forward. "You can choose any talented young man within the hall, and Rongrong is a child I've watched grow up. Would I mistreat her?"

The last sentence carried a rare urgency, causing even Chen Xin to raise an eyebrow. Gu Rong's withered fingers rubbed together inside his sleeve, a hint of amusement flashing in his eyes.

Ning Fengzhi gently stroked the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Pagoda, his warm gaze carrying a wise understanding of the world: "Qinghe, I naturally believe you won't mistreat Rongrong. However..." He looked at Gu Rong and Chen Xin beside him, the two elderly men's temples already streaked with white, "Uncle Gu and Uncle Jian are getting old, and the future of the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Sect must ultimately be handed over to Rongrong."

The shimmering light emanating from the tower reflected on his serene face: "We don't want to seize much power within the Spirit Hall, but Rongrong must have a partner of sufficiently high status." His fingertips lightly tapped the table, producing a clear, resonant sound. "This is not only my personal wish, but also an explanation to all the disciples of the sect."

Amidst the fragrant tea, his voice grew even gentler: "Time is long, and I believe the disciples of the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile School will eventually become one with the Spirit Hall. At that time..." His gaze swept over Fuxi in Feng Yao's arms, "Today's in-laws will be tomorrow's friendship."

Qian Renxue's golden eyes flickered slightly; she understood the deeper meaning behind those words—Ning Fengzhi didn't want immediate gains, but rather an opportunity for the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile School to integrate into the Spirit Hall. Feng Yao, as a mutually recognized link, was indeed the best candidate.

A brief silence fell over the hall. Qian Renxue tapped her fingertips lightly on the gilded armrest, her eyes flashing with complex emotions.

To be fair, Ning Fengzhi's conditions were indeed impeccable—the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile School was willing to submit, seeking only the guarantee of a marriage alliance, and even refusing to vie for power. A few years ago, she would have accepted without hesitation. But now…

(Why specifically the wind element?)
She glanced subtly at the boy beside her, then quietly slipped her hand out from her sleeve and gave him a sharp twist at the waist.

"Hiss—" Feng Yao's lips twitched slightly as he lowered his voice, "You've said everything you needed to say, what else can I say..."

Ning Fengzhi took in their subtle interactions, a hint of a smile flashing in his eyes. He gently stroked the Seven Treasures Glazed Pagoda and said softly, "This is our... only condition."

The pagoda's shimmering light illuminated his handsome features. Though his words were gentle, they carried an unyielding firmness.

Qian Renxue's golden eyes were fixed on Feng Yao, her gaze filled with a threatening "You must resolve this for me." Feng Yao felt a chill run down his spine from her glare and, steeling himself, turned to Ning Fengzhi:
"How about we return Oscar to your clan?" he tentatively suggested, his voice trailing off.

Ning Fengzhi's expression remained unchanged, but a bone spur had appeared on the withered finger of the ancient banyan tree behind him, and Chen Xin's longsword also emitted a soft "clang".

"Ahem," Feng Yao awkwardly touched his nose. "Sect Leader Ning, aren't you putting me in a difficult position? Miss Rongrong and I have no emotional connection whatsoever, and besides..." He glanced at Qian Renxue's increasingly dark face and hurriedly added, "How could the apple of the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile School's eye be forced to marry a lazy person like me?"

These words softened the expressions of the two Douluo, Jian and Gu. Chen Xin relaxed his grip on his sword, and Gu Rong put away the bone spurs from his sleeve. Qian Renxue nodded repeatedly from the side.

"Feelings can be cultivated slowly." Ning Fengzhi gently stroked the Seven Treasures Glazed Pagoda, his gentle voice carrying an undeniable firmness. "With Xiao Feng's intelligence, this shouldn't be difficult."

Looking into Ning Fengzhi's calm eyes, Feng Yao understood—this was indeed the only condition of the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile School, and the other party would never back down an inch.

Qian Renxue gritted her teeth. She knew better than anyone that today's situation was perhaps the consequence of her scheming against Oscar back then. If the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile School hadn't been forced into this vortex, why would Ning Fengzhi have risked the entire school's future just to secure a stable life for his daughter?
A long silence fell over the hall, with only the aroma of tea quietly flowing within the barrier.

Seeing Qian Renxue remain silent, Ning Fengzhi calmly rose, the light of the Seven Treasure Glazed Pagoda swirling around his robes, and repeated, "This is the only condition." He nodded slightly, "You can consider it carefully."

"Uncle Gu, let's go."

Just as Gu Rong's withered fingers were about to tear open a spatial rift, Qian Renxue suddenly stood up: "Wait!"

The clear, crisp sound, like the clinking of gold and jade, caused the candlelight in the hall to tremble. As Ning Fengzhi turned around, the halo of the Seven Treasures Glazed Pagoda traced a magnificent trajectory in the air.

"I agree."

Qian Renxue's voice wasn't loud, but it silenced the entire hall. Feng Yao turned his head sharply, only to see her golden eyes blazing, her resolute gaze silencing all his unspoken words.

“This is what I owe Rongrong,” she said, her fingertips lightly tracing the spot on her waist where she once wore the jade pendant of the prince, her voice tinged with a hint of relief, “Angels never evade their mistakes.”

Turning to Feng Yao, a rare tenderness appeared in her eyes: "Little Feng, would you be willing to help me make up for this mistake?"

Feng Yao stared blankly at the woman before him, a woman who had lived a life of pride. "Of course," he chuckled softly, his fingertips tracing the strings of the Fuxi Qin. "It is my honor, Xue'er."

Qian Renxue stepped forward slowly and bowed solemnly before Ning Fengzhi, her long golden hair cascading down like a waterfall.

“Teacher,” her voice trembled slightly, a rare occurrence, “I, the student, apologize for the actions that hurt Rongrong.”

Gu Rong and Chen Xin exchanged a glance, both seeing shock and complexity in each other's eyes. They had never imagined that this proud young master of the Spirit Hall would bow his head and admit his mistake.

Ning Fengzhi reached out to support it, softening the light of the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Pagoda. "The fault isn't yours," he sighed, his gaze distant. "These past few days, your teacher has also thought a lot. If it weren't for you, perhaps the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Sect would have already..." He paused slightly, "This continent truly needs a powerful force to end the conflict."

Gu Rong's withered fingers removed from the bone spurs, and Chen Xin relaxed his sword-holding posture slightly. A silence fell over the hall as everyone imagined the possible future—a continent where war had ceased, a unified order, and no more pointless sacrifices.
Ning Fengzhi nodded slightly, the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Pagoda shimmering with a warm glow in his palm: "In that case, the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Sect is willing to entrust its trust to you." His gaze lingered for a moment between Qian Renxue and Feng Yao, "I hope you will treat Rongrong well in the future. If you encounter any important matters, simply send a message, and the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Sect will do its utmost to assist you."

"Thank you for your kindness, Sect Master Ning." Feng Yao bowed solemnly, the Fuxi Qin in his arms emitting a clear and melodious resonance.

With a flick of his withered fingers, Gu Rong tore the space apart like a brocade. Chen Xin stood with his sword in hand, casting a meaningful glance at the two. Ning Fengzhi took one last look at his former student, and the light of the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Pagoda shone brightly the moment he stepped into the spatial rift.

Before the words were even finished, the three figures faded away like reflections in water. The gentle breeze created as the spatial rift closed stirred a strand of Qian Renxue's golden hair.

Feng Yao gazed at the now-calm hall and suddenly chuckled, "Now, we really need to prepare the betrothal gifts."

Qian Renxue glared at him and snorted softly, but she couldn't hide the smile on her lips.

Within the distorted interdimensional passage, a rare smile appeared on Gu Rong's gaunt face: "Feng Zhi, if those two children had agreed so readily, I would have suspected they had ulterior motives."

The spatial turbulence reflected Ning Fengzhi's gentle profile, the Seven Treasure Glazed Pagoda slowly rotating in his palm: "Indeed. Those who prioritize profit excessively are frightening, those who prioritize sentiment excessively are worrisome." His voice, like a clear spring striking stone, rippled with the shimmering light, "Only those who find a balance between power and sincerity..." Qinghe's apology just now moved you both, didn't it?

Chen Xin suddenly spoke, the longsword in his arms emitting a clear ring, his usually cold and stern brows softening slightly: "Yes, that child is no simpleton; even in such a favorable situation, he still dared to admit his mistake to us."

Ning Fengzhi nodded slightly. "An apology is both a repentance for the past and a promise for the future."

Gu Rong laughed loudly, his well-defined knuckles tearing through the space in front of him: "It seems Rongrong is really going to find a good home!"

As the last spatial rift closed, the glow of the Seven Treasures Glazed Tile Pagoda shone in the real world.

...(End of chapter)