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

Chapter 71 Leaving
Oscar stopped in his tracks at the sound and slowly turned around. Moonlight streamed through the window, casting dappled shadows on his handsome face. His captivating eyes, which had charmed countless young girls, now shimmered with a cautious anticipation.

"Rongrong?"

Their eyes met in the moonlight. Ning Rongrong opened her mouth, but felt as if something was blocking her throat. She saw the light in Oscar's eyes gradually dim as she fell silent, like stars obscured by clouds in the night sky.

"I..." Her fingertips dug deeply into her palm, but she ultimately couldn't utter that cruel rule of the sect. At that moment, she wished she wasn't the little princess of the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile School, and that he wasn't the food-type Soul Master destined to be unable to protect her.

Ning Rongrong looked at Oscar, the meaningful look in her father's eyes from that day flashing through her mind. She bit her lower lip, and finally just shook her head slightly, forcing a smile: "It's nothing, Oscar, it's just... thank you for the snacks." Her voice was so soft it seemed a gust of wind could blow it away.

The light in Oscar's eyes dimmed instantly. He nodded silently, his steps heavy as he turned away. The sound of the door closing softly was particularly jarring in the quiet night.

Oscar clenched his fists. He desperately wanted to rush back and tell Ning Rongrong that he could protect her. But the scenes of Wuhun City flashed through his mind—Feng Yao's zither music that sounded like ten thousand bells resounding, Bibi Dong's suffocating pressure, Xiao Wu and Tang San's helpless appearance, Tang Hao's domineering entrance, and the contemptuous looks from the nobles at the banquet.

Moonlight filtered through the pillars, casting dappled shadows on the ground. Oscar's steps slowed, finally stopping beside a stone pillar. For the first time, he clearly realized just how powerless he was in this dog-eat-dog world, relying solely on his food-type martial soul.

Oscar staggered along, as if his soul had been ripped from his body, his eyes vacant as he wandered through the winding corridors of the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile School. The moonlight cast a long, distorted shadow of him, making him look completely different from his former spirited self.

Instead of heading towards the simulated training ground as usual, he mechanically walked towards his residence. These past few days, the deliberately hushed whispers within the sect had been constantly reaching his ears—"Just a food-type." "A toad trying to eat swan meat." His clumsy dance at the banquet became the subject of everyone's ridicule.

In the past few days, he also understood what Ning Rongrong was hesitating to say—the thousand-year-old sect rule, the insurmountable barrier between them.

Suddenly, Oscar stopped in his tracks. He looked up towards Ning Rongrong's room, a resolute glint in his eyes. The next moment, he rushed towards the sect's exit like a gust of wind.

There was no farewell, no lingering affection. At this moment, he finally understood that the magnificent splendor of the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile School was never suitable for him.

Ning Rongrong leaned against the window, watching Oscar's figure gradually disappear into the night, her heart aching. Moonlight shone on her pale cheeks, revealing two tear tracks that had not yet dried.

The sect's thousand-year-old rules and her sincere emotions collided fiercely within her like two giant waves. She recalled Xiao Wu's desperate eyes on the field, and Tang San's heart-wrenching shouts—at that moment, she finally understood the meaning of the sect's rules.

"Without a sect, I am nothing," she murmured softly, her fingertips unconsciously tracing the glass decorations on the window frame. Just like Oscar now, a simple support-type Soul Master is so powerless in this dog-eat-dog world.

A night breeze stirred, lifting strands of her loose hair. Ning Rongrong knew that if Oscar continued to stay, he would only face more humiliation and setbacks. The overt and covert exclusion, the deliberately difficult tests, would eventually extinguish the pure light in his eyes.

"That's fine too." She slowly closed the window, shutting out the last ray of moonlight. Tears silently streamed down her face.

A low sigh sounded behind Ning Rongrong. She turned around abruptly and saw that her father had quietly stood behind her at some point, his hand, which had been in charge of the sect for many years, gently resting on her trembling shoulder.

"Rongrong, he's gone."

Ning Fengzhi's voice was soft, yet it was like the last straw that broke Ning Rongrong's fragile strength. She suddenly threw herself into her father's arms, tears instantly soaking through his magnificent sect leader's robe.

"Dad... I really don't know how to tell him," she choked back tears, her voice broken, "He tried so hard, but in the end, he was just a support-type Soul Master."

Ning Fengzhi gently stroked his daughter's hair, a complex emotion welling up in his eyes: "Yes, you, even your father—" He shook his head with a wry smile, "are just support-type Soul Masters."

Moonlight streamed through the window curtains, illuminating the rare weariness on the sect leader's face. He was both relieved that Oscar had backed down and heartbroken for his daughter's current devastation. The Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Pagoda spun silently in his other hand, its dazzling light now seeming so ironic—this top-tier martial soul, envied by the world, was it not also a heavy shackle?

"It will pass," Ning Fengzhi whispered, seemingly trying to comfort his daughter, but it was unclear whether he was trying to convince himself or his daughter. Outside the window, the last wisp of Oscar's scent dissipated in the night wind.

Everything seemed extremely peaceful. Feng Yao sat as usual in the garden pavilion of the Tian Dou Royal Academy, his slender fingers gently plucking the strings of his zither, the melodious music flowing in the morning light. However, today's tune was different from usual, less clear and melodious, and more filled with deep thoughts.

The song ends, but the lingering sound remains.

Feng Yao slowly opened his eyes, only to find that he had been surrounded by students who were bowing respectfully. "Your Highness—" The greetings echoed in the courtyard.

He looked up and saw Xue Qinghe standing in the center of the crowd, dressed in a moon-white brocade robe, a perfectly measured smile on his gentle, jade-like face. Feng Yao, feigning surprise, rose and bowed, saying, "I was unaware of Your Highness's arrival; I have failed to greet you properly." A faint smile played on his lips. "Your visit at this hour—is there something important you wish to discuss?"

Qian Renxue gracefully gestured with her wide sleeves. The accompanying guards and maids immediately understood, bowing and retreating ten feet away. Sunlight filtered through the trees, casting dappled shadows on her perfect disguise.

Qian Renxue lowered her voice, her golden eyes gleaming beneath Xue Qinghe's disguise: "Just as you predicted, that kid has already left the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile School."

Feng Yao lightly stroked the strings, producing a few scattered notes: "Just proceed as planned. Is there a problem?"

"Interestingly," Qian Renxue's lips curled slightly, a hint of amusement in Xue Qinghe's gentle voice, "that old fox Ning Fengzhi actually wants to use me as a go-between."

Feng Yao raised an eyebrow, lightly tapping the body of the zither twice with his fingertips: "Oh? Did you sell me for a good price?"

Qian Renxue nodded with a smile: "I only made one condition—help me ascend the throne as soon as possible." A sharp glint flashed in her eyes. "He agreed, but," she looked meaningfully at Feng Yao, "the key to success or failure probably lies with you." Feng Yao smiled knowingly: "On the contrary. If I appear too eager, it will only arouse suspicion." He slowly plucked the strings of his zither, "How could a Soul Master who truly pledges allegiance not consider the sect's interests? The more I resist..."

"That's why Ning Fengzhi will work even harder." Qian Renxue chimed in, and the two exchanged a smile.

Sunlight filtered through the leaves, casting dappled shadows on the instrument's surface. Feng Yao casually plucked a series of clear, melodious notes, masking their final whispers: "This act needs to be made even more realistic."

In the afternoon, the warm sunlight shone on the most famous "Listening to the Rain Pavilion" teahouse in Tiandou City. Qian Renxue, in her identity as Xue Qinghe, arrived slowly in the gilded carriage reserved for the Crown Prince, accompanied by Feng Yao.

In a private room on the second floor of the teahouse, Ning Fengzhi had been waiting for some time. The scepter slowly spun in his palm. Upon seeing the two arrive, he rose to greet them, but his gaze lingered on Feng Yao for a few moments longer, almost imperceptibly.

"Teacher, I'm sorry to have kept you waiting." Qian Renxue maintained Xue Qinghe's gentle and refined demeanor, her every move exuding an imperial air.

Feng Yao lagged half a step behind and bowed respectfully: "Greetings, Sect Master Ning." He had specially changed into the uniform of the Heavenly Dou Royal Academy today, and the jade seal of the guest elder at his waist was faintly visible, showing both his status and humility.

"Qinghe, there's no need for such formalities between us, master and disciple." Ning Fengzhi smiled, his gaze gentle as he looked at Feng Yao. "Young friend Feng, it's been a long time; your cultivation has improved again."

The three sat down, and a waiter served them this year's newly picked Yunwu tea. Amidst the fragrant steam, Qian Renxue took a small sip, glanced at Feng Yao, and casually asked, "Little Feng, did your teacher invite you today for your sake?"

Ning Fengzhi set down his teacup, his crystal-clear eyes looking directly at Feng Yao: "To be honest, I do have a request."

Outside the window, a leaf twirled and fell. Feng Yao lowered his eyes to look at his reflection in the tea, a barely perceptible smile curving his lips.

Feng Yao lightly stroked the rim of the teacup with his fingertips, the celadon reflecting his thoughtful expression: "Sect Leader Ning, you flatter me. Since I have received such kindness, I will do my utmost to help." When he raised his eyes, a touch of humility was perfectly placed.

Ning Fengzhi stroked his beard and chuckled, the Seven Treasure Glazed Pagoda shimmering with a gentle light in his palm: "My daughter has just returned from Shrek Academy and has been staying indoors all day. I've been busy with sect affairs." He paused meaningfully, "Since young friend Feng has been able to comprehend the mysteries of the Fusion Ring, his skill in controlling distractions must be extraordinary. If you could offer my daughter some guidance..."

"This..." Feng Yao's teacup trembled slightly, a look of unease on his face. "This junior is about the same age as Miss Ning, and I really dare not accept the title of 'guidance.' Besides, the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile School already has two seniors, Sword Douluo and Bone Douluo."

Ning Fengzhi flicked his wide sleeves, producing a clear, melodious sound: "It's alright, it's alright." A glint of light flashed in his eyes. "Young people should exchange ideas more often. As for Uncle Jian and Uncle Gu..." A meaningful smile curved his lips, "They just happened to be dispatched by me to handle important matters."

“Since that’s the case,” Feng Yao said, refilling Ning Fengzhi’s teapot with water that traced an elegant arc in the air, “this junior will humbly request to exchange skills with Miss Ning for a few days.”

Feng Yao feigned hesitation and pondered for a moment, glancing at Qian Renxue almost imperceptibly. He saw that "Xue Qinghe" remained calm, only her fingertips, holding the teacup, lightly tapped the saucer twice.

Ning Fengzhi took in their subtle interaction, yet his face remained serene with a warm smile. He gently stroked his scepter, thinking to himself: How easy would it be to recruit such a brilliant young man into a sect? However…
Ning Fengzhi believes that even though Feng Yao is exceptionally talented, he cannot change the fact that he is ultimately a man, and as long as he is a man, he cannot escape the tenderness that comes with love.

His gaze swept over Feng Yao's handsome profile, and then he thought of his daughter's haggard appearance recently.

“Young friend Feng, there’s no need to refuse,” Ning Fengzhi said warmly. “It’s a wonderful thing for young people to learn from each other.”

Feng Yao lowered his eyes and smiled faintly, concealing the amusement in them. He naturally understood Ning Fengzhi's plan, but... this sect leader probably didn't realize that the prey in his eyes had already devised an even bigger scheme.

Feng Yao bowed slightly, a gentle breeze rising from his flowing robes, and said with clasped hands, "Since I am so honored by Sect Master Ning's kindness, I will await Miss Ning's arrival and guidance at the Heavenly Dou Royal Academy."

When he looked up, a hint of expectation flickered in his eyes, yet he maintained just the right distance. This gesture gave Ning Fengzhi enough face without appearing overly eager.

Qian Renxue sipped her tea, her lips subtly curving upwards beneath Xue Qinghe's facade. She knew that Feng Yao's stance was the most appropriate—it gave Ning Fengzhi a way out while leaving room for maneuver in future plans.

Ning Fengzhi nodded in satisfaction: "Good, good. Rongrong will visit tomorrow."

Amidst the fragrant aroma of tea, Qian Renxue and Ning Fengzhi abruptly changed the subject, discussing court affairs. Feng Yao sat quietly to the side, his hand holding the teapot steady as a rock, occasionally refilling their cups. He listened attentively, quickly grasping the deeper meaning from Ning Fengzhi's carefully chosen words—the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile School wished to provide "Xue Qinghe" with more support in court.

The night was as dark as ink. Oscar walked alone on a deserted path leading away from Heaven Dou City. The moonlight cast a long shadow of him, making him appear exceptionally lonely. Unbeknownst to him, two sharp eyes were fixed on him from the shadows.

Amidst the swaying shadows of the trees, She Long stood with his arms crossed, his serpent spear gleaming coldly in the moonlight. He squinted at the indistinct figure in the distance—it was the Soul Saint powerhouse sent by the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile School to monitor Oscar.

"A mere Soul Saint." She Long scoffed, his fingertips lightly tracing the blade of his serpent spear. "The Seven Treasure Glazed Tile School is truly petty." His emerald pupils narrowed to slits in the darkness, like a venomous snake eyeing its prey.

The distant hooting of an owl echoed, and She Long smiled knowingly. This was a signal from Ci Xue—three miles ahead lay the perfect spot to strike. It was a desolate place, ideal for removing this thorn in their side.

"Kid, consider yourself lucky." She Long grinned silently, watching Oscar's unsteady figure. "Being chosen by the Spirit Hall is your good fortune."

A sudden night wind arose, swirling up withered leaves. She Long's figure vanished silently into the darkness, leaving only a barely audible, cold laugh. In the deeper shadows, his blood-red robes appeared and disappeared, like the cloak billowing in the wind of death.

(End of this chapter)