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

Chapter 74 Bad News

However, the next second, Feng Yao was suddenly blasted away by a sacred and inviolable force, and his whole body crashed heavily into the stone wall of the training ground.

"boom--"

A faint golden aura enveloped Qian Renxue as she slowly approached Feng Yao, who had fallen to the ground in a disheveled state. Her phoenix eyes narrowed, a dangerous glint in them: "Tell me, who taught you?"

Feng Yao rubbed his aching back, looking completely bewildered: "Xue'er, what are you talking about? What do you mean, who taught you that?"

Qian Renxue's blush hadn't faded, but she still forced a defiant stance: "Stop playing dumb! Besides me, who else have you ever treated like this?"

"Heaven and earth bear witness!" Feng Yao quickly raised his hands in surrender. "I'm either in the training ground or by your side all day long. How could I possibly have any contact with anyone else?"

Qian Renxue looked him over suspiciously: "Really not?"

"Who in this world can compare to Xue'er even a fraction?" Feng Yao quickly flattered, seeing that the situation was not good.

Qian Renxue gave a soft snort, her blush deepening. "Then...then what you were doing just now—" She pointed to her slightly red lips, embarrassed and annoyed, "...why were you so skilled at it?"

Feng Yao was speechless for a moment, beads of sweat forming on his forehead. He couldn't very well reveal his past life's love history, could he? He could only manage a dry laugh: "Well, men are naturally gifted in certain areas."

Upon hearing this, Qian Renxue withdrew her soul power, reached out to help him up, and gave him a playful glare: "You little rascal!"

Feng Yao pulled her into his arms and whispered in her ear with a chuckle, "I think Xue'er was enjoying herself just now."

"You!" Qian Renxue was filled with shame and anger, and was about to explode when Feng Yao suddenly said seriously, "But don't worry, Xue'er, in my heart, there has only ever been you."

Under the moonlight, the two stood facing each other, the earlier tenderness and jealousy transforming into silent warmth. Qian Renxue leaned against him and whispered, "If I find out you've lied to me..."

"Then I'll let Xue'er do as she pleases," Feng Yao said with a light laugh.

Qian Renxue glared at Feng Yao with annoyance. This guy knew perfectly well that she wouldn't do anything to him. At most, she'd just beat him up.

As their eyes met, they both couldn't help but smile.

On the other side, at the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile School, the night was as dark as ink.

Ning Fengzhi sat upright on the gilded and carved sect leader's throne, his slender fingers turning the pages of a sect account book. The candlelight cast flickering shadows on his gentle, jade-like face, and the tea in the glass cup had gone mostly cold.

Suddenly, a familiar ripple of soul power rippled through the space within the main hall. Ning Fengzhi's hand, holding a brush, paused slightly. As he looked up, he saw Gu Rong and Chen Xin stepping out from the void. Bone Douluo's rugged face still carried a hint of lingering resentment, while Chen Xin's expression remained as cold and stern as ever.

"Thank you for your hard work." Ning Fengzhi put down his quill, a gentle smile playing on his lips. He personally raised his hand to check the tea, his voice like a spring breeze caressing the glass cup: "Uncle Gu, Uncle Jian."

Gu Rong casually sat down on the rosewood chair, picked up his teacup, and drank it all in one gulp. Chen Xin, on the other hand, stood still.

Gu Rong gave Chen Xin several meaningful glances, but Chen Xin seemed oblivious, remaining standing with his hands behind his back, his gaze calmly fixed on the reflection of the glazed pagoda outside the window. Gu Rong cleared his throat, his rough voice unusually hesitant: "Feng Zhi, Rong Rong seems a bit down today. What do you think about this?"

Ning Fengzhi's hand holding the teapot paused slightly, the crystal-clear tea tracing a graceful arc in the air. He looked up and smiled gently, the tea in the glass reflecting his warm, jade-like face: "Uncle Gu, this is precisely why I need to trouble you two to look after her." His fingertips lightly traced the rim of the cup, his voice as gentle as a spring breeze, "Someone has to play the 'good cop,' so I'll have to trouble you two to appease Rongrong. With you two here, I'm confident she won't be mistreated over there."

Upon hearing this, Chen Xin's lips curled slightly, and he glanced meaningfully at Gu Rong: "Feng Zhi's words make sense." His gaze was sharp as a sword, yet his voice carried an unusual gentleness. "Rongrong's presence with that child will greatly benefit her martial spirit cultivation. The path of weapon martial spirits emphasizes comprehension. And comprehension..." His fingertips gently caressed his skin, "...most importantly, requires a clear and tranquil mind."

Gu Rong immediately flew into a rage, his beard bristling and eyes wide: "You damned bitch!" His rough hand slammed down, making the coffee table tremble. "That's not what you said to Rongrong just now!"

Chen Xin calmly brushed away non-existent dust from his sleeve: "As long as it benefits Rongrong," he looked up at the moonlight outside the hall, his brows slightly raised, "I have no objection."

Ning Fengzhi's hand holding the teacup hovered in mid-air, a knowing smile flashing in his eyes amidst the rising aroma of tea.

Ning Fengzhi looked at the two old rivals before him and couldn't help but shake his head and chuckle. He elegantly set down his teacup, his fingertips lightly tapping the table. "Alright, Uncle Gu, Uncle Jian," his gentle voice carried a hint of helplessness, yet also a touch of anticipation, "why don't you tell me about today's events first? Perhaps... we can find an opportunity to get that child to willingly join the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile School."

Upon hearing this, Gu Rong's rugged face softened slightly. He stroked his white beard, exchanged a glance with Chen Xin, and then slowly began to speak: "That girl Rongrong today..." As he spoke, Ning Fengzhi sometimes frowned and sometimes nodded, his slender fingers unconsciously tracing paths across the table.

Chen Xin occasionally added a few words, her voice soft yet always incisive. The candlelight in the hall cast long shadows of the three, weaving a wondrous scene on the stained-glass walls.

Hearing that Ning Rongrong had made considerable progress, Ning Fengzhi's lips curled up slightly, and his eyes revealed a look of satisfaction. However, a storm raged in his heart—if what the Sword and Bone Elders said was true, Feng Yao's martial soul support ability was probably also at the level of a top-tier weapon soul. His fingertips unconsciously caressed the rim of the glass cup, the warm jade surface reflecting the candlelight, its brightness shifting uncertainly.

As Gu Rong recounted the story, Ning Fengzhi's brows furrowed deeper. Feng Yao's actions were truly intriguing: he displayed astonishing talent while deliberately maintaining aloofness. If he had no intention of befriending the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile School, he could have easily concealed his abilities; if he had ulterior motives, why was he so cold towards Rongrong?

A glint of shrewdness flashed in Ning Fengzhi's eyes. His keen intuition, honed by years of political experience, instantly led him to a possibility—this was clearly an attempt to imitate his own method of using the throne to control Xue Qinghe! But in a flash, he dismissed the thought. Fishing always requires bait, yet Feng Yao hadn't asked for anything in return, while Qinghe, that boy, had.
Ning Fengzhi gently shook his head, his thoughtful expression reflected in the tea. He simply couldn't believe that someone as exceptionally talented as Feng Yao could be so loyal to his cheap apprentice.

Ning Fengzhi gently stroked his teacup, a thoughtful look flashing in his eyes. In his view, Feng Yao and the solitary Poison Douluo Dugu Bo were essentially the same kind of people—both were proud and aloof, loyal only to their own hearts, and disdainful of attaching themselves to any power.

It was precisely because Ning Fengzhi understood this that he felt comfortable allowing Rongrong to associate with him. He knew that such people were the purest, neither tempted by power nor swayed by profit. Even if he were to marry Rongrong in the future, he would never harbor any designs on the foundation of the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile School.

Seeing Ning Fengzhi's furrowed brows, Gu Rong couldn't help but lean forward: "Fengzhi, have you noticed something amiss?" Ning Fengzhi tapped the table lightly with his fingertips, pondering, "Uncle Gu, I just find it strange. If that child was merely acting on Qinghe's orders, there's no need for him to go to such lengths to display his talent." He sighed softly, "Even if he ignored Rongrong's cultivation, we wouldn't have anything to say. But he just..."

"You mean..." Gu Rong's eyes flashed with a sharp light, then he shook his head, clearly having the same thought as Ning Fengzhi.

Chen Xin stood with his hands behind his back: "In my opinion, it's not necessarily because he cares about the Crown Prince." His gaze was far-reaching. "Anyone who has achieved something in a certain path will inevitably be tempted by talented individuals. Our Rongrong is exceptionally gifted; giving him some guidance and forming a good relationship wouldn't hurt him." He paused, "A person who can casually give away a soul bone, even if cold-hearted, is certainly not a stingy person."

Ning Fengzhi smiled upon hearing this: "Uncle Jian is right." He poured more tea for the two of them, adding, "It's us who have been too concerned with appearances."

"In that case, it's actually the best choice." Ning Fengzhi gazed at the tea leaves floating in his cup, a meaningful smile playing on his lips. Compared to those sycophants, such a single-minded genius made him feel more at ease entrusting Rongrong to him.

Just as Ning Fengzhi was about to write down his thoughts on the documents on his desk, the sound of hurried footsteps from a servant suddenly came from outside the hall.

"Reporting to the sect master, a disciple requests an audience overnight." The attendant's voice came through the carved doors, exceptionally clear in the silent hall.

Gu Rong and Chen Xin exchanged a glance, both seeing a hint of seriousness in each other's eyes—a request to see someone so late at night was certainly no ordinary matter.

Ning Fengzhi paused slightly in his hand holding the feather, a dark stain spreading across the rice paper. He slowly raised his head, his usually gentle voice now tinged with solemnity: "Pass it on."

The hall doors opened slightly, and a disciple dressed in the robes of the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile School strode in. Though his face showed anxiety, he still meticulously performed a standard sect salute to the three: "Disciple greets the Sect Master, Elder Sword, and Elder Bone."

Ning Fengzhi lightly raised his sleeve: "No need for formalities. What brings you here so late at night?"

The disciple bowed even deeper, his voice slightly tense: "Reporting to the Sect Master, the food-type Soul Master you arranged to monitor, along with our hidden agents, has suddenly disappeared."

"What?!" Ning Fengzhi slammed the teacup he was holding onto the table and abruptly stood up. The fine celadon shattered with a crack, and the tea flowed meandering across the sandalwood table. The eyes of Jian Gu and the other man sharpened, and their soul power unconsciously fluctuated.

"Sect Master, please calm down!" The disciple hurriedly knelt on one knee, beads of sweat appearing on his forehead.

Gu Rong waved his hand dismissively: "You may leave now."

The disciple, as if granted a pardon, quickly retreated from the main hall, leaving behind only the aroma of tea and a solemn silence.

Ning Fengzhi tapped his long, slender fingers lightly on the table, a cold glint flashing in his eyes: "To the point that my Soul Saint-level spies didn't even have a chance to warn us." His voice grew colder, a layer of frost settling on his jade-like face. "The Spirit Hall, indeed, has quite the well-connected intelligence network."

"Feng Zhi, what do you mean?" Gu Rong's rugged brows furrowed, and his soul power fluctuated faintly.

Ning Fengzhi slowly shook his head, his fingertips lightly tracing the edge of the shattered teacup: "To make a Soul Saint disappear without a trace—" He raised his eyes, a sharp glint flashing in his azure pupils—" it must have been a Title Douluo who made the move."

Before he could finish speaking, Ning Fengzhi suddenly slammed his hand on the table and stood up: "Uncle Gu, I urge you to set out to investigate immediately!" His usually gentle voice now carried an undeniable determination: "I want to see them alive or dead!"

As Ning Fengzhi finished speaking, a cold glint flashed in his eyes, and a rare ruthlessness crossed his jade-like face. A food-type Soul Master with innate full Soul Power—while insufficient to support the future of the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile School—was precisely the kind of top-tier support talent the Spirit Hall desperately needed. Such a promising talent was better off being ruined in a battle than allowed to fall into the hands of the Spirit Hall.

"Yes, sir." Gu Rong clasped his hands in a deep voice, his eyes flashing with a fierce light. Before he finished speaking, the space around him suddenly distorted, and his nine soul rings flashed through the void as he disappeared into the spatial rift. Only a wisp of chilling killing intent remained in the hall, slowly dissipating under the glass lamp.

Chen Xin's brows furrowed slightly, his thin lips parted as if to speak, but ultimately turned into a silent sigh. Ning Fengzhi walked slowly to the window, the moonlight casting a silvery glow on his handsome profile: "Uncle Jian," his voice was as soft as falling snow, "Don't blame me for being heartless. If one day Rongrong and I were to face each other as soldiers," his fingertips unconsciously tracing the window frame, "that would be true cruelty."

Chen Xin stood with his hands behind his back. After a long while, he nodded slightly, his white hair fluttering gently in the night breeze: "Leave Rongrong to me."

As Chen Xin's sword light vanished into the sky, Ning Fengzhi stood alone by the window, his eyes filled with an unyielding gloom. The moonlight stretched his shadow long and lonely, casting a heavy dark shadow on the glass floor.

Oscar's departure was timed so precisely that even his meticulously placed Soul Saint-level spy was silently eliminated—this was no coincidence. Ning Fengzhi's slender fingers unconsciously gripped the window frame, his knuckles turning white.

There is only one possibility.

The titled Douluo of the Spirit Hall had long been lurking in the shadows of Heaven Dou City.

This realization sent a chill down Ning Fengzhi's spine. Those eyes hidden in the shadows were perhaps coldly watching the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile School's every move. This ever-present, piercing sense of being watched made even the usually composed sect leader feel a rare, bone-chilling unease.

A night breeze swept through the hall, ruffling a few stray strands of hair on his forehead. The cool wind calmed him. His eyes churned with thoughts: "For a food-type Soul Master who hasn't even reached maturity..." His slender fingers lightly tapped the windowpane, producing a crisp sound. "Is it worth all this fuss? To alert the enemy, or to search for them elsewhere?"

Ning Fengzhi's eyes suddenly sharpened. This premeditated hunt was like a venomous snake lurking in the shadows, finally revealing its chilling fangs. But he didn't know what those fangs were targeting.

Ning Fengzhi gazed at the night outside the window, his eyes swirling with thoughts. While a food-type Soul Master as gifted as Oscar was indeed rare, for the Spirit Hall, which dominated the continent, he was ultimately just icing on the cake.

His fingertips unconsciously traced the rim of the teacup, his eyes gleaming. What the Spirit Hall truly feared were peerless geniuses like Feng Yao and Tang San, capable of single-handedly turning the tide of battle. Such beings were the real variables that could shake the balance of power on the continent.

"What a troubled time"

(End of this chapter)