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

Chapter 79 Yuexuan
Feng Yao's pupils contracted slightly, a rare look of surprise appearing on his face. Qian Renxue, however, had already risen, her gilded skirt trailing across the jade-green floor tiles. Her fingertips lightly touched the window frame, gazing at the golden roof of the distant palace, her voice seeming to transcend the long river of time.

"A thousand years ago, the continent was engulfed in war, and famine ravaged the land. At that time, our ancestor had already attained the highest level of divine power. With his sacred strength, he quelled the flames of war, purified the plague, and brought hope to the people of the continent." She turned and gazed at Feng Yao. "In this process, she discovered a very magical power."

"Is it the power of faith?" Feng Yao asked slowly, his eyes flickering slightly.

“Exactly.” Qian Renxue nodded, a faint six-winged phantom appearing behind her. “And my ancestor was the legendary Angel God, and also the first Pope of the Spirit Hall.”

Feng Yao revealed a look of shock at the opportune moment, and murmured in a low voice: "God" The word echoed in the study for a long time.

A sacred light shone in Qian Renxue's golden eyes, her voice as solemn as chanting: "Indeed, it is a god. Our ancestor broke through the ninety-ninth level barrier, his soul power reaching level one hundred, becoming an Angel God. The key to godhood lies in this power of faith." A wisp of holy light condensed at her fingertips. "My grandfather once told me that even the most talented Soul Master can only reach the limit of a mortal's lifespan by breaking through to ninety-nine. Faced with the imminent threat of death, even the most astonishing talent is like an ant trying to shake a tree."

Holy light transformed into countless points of light in her palm: "The power of faith is a wondrous force; it originates from the spiritual power of life yet transcends the realm of the spirit. Whether you are a Soul Master, a Soul Beast, or a plant spirit, as long as you hold this belief in your heart—" the points of light suddenly converged into a galaxy, "you can all contribute this power." The galaxy then transformed into a rain of light, showering down, "Our ancestors also broke through to level 100 in this way."

Feng Yao toyed with a wisp of light, a slight smile playing on his lips: "So, I actually possess the potential to become a god?"

Qian Renxue glared at him, her long, flowing golden hair swaying gently as she shook her head. "It's not that easy." A wisp of holy flame coalesced at her fingertips. "Faith varies in depth, and power in strength. Our ancestors..." An illusion of angels purifying the world appeared within the flame, "...only by saving all life on the continent could they transcend the boundaries between gods and mortals."

"Save the continent," Feng Yao said thoughtfully, stroking his chin.

“Exactly.” Qian Renxue extinguished the flames and said solemnly, “This was also the original intention behind the founding of the Spirit Hall.”

Feng Yao suddenly smiled, sunlight filtering through the window and casting dappled shadows on his handsome profile: "It's alright. We have plenty of time. Maybe I can too."

Looking at Feng Yao's confident expression, Qian Renxue's breath hitched slightly, and a tingling sensation ran through her heart as if a feather had gently brushed against it.

"What's wrong?" Feng Yao suddenly leaned closer, his warm breath brushing against her ear, and a soft laugh escaping his lips.

Qian Renxue suddenly came to her senses, a hint of embarrassment and annoyance flashing in her golden eyes. She raised her hand and threw a small punch, but couldn't hide the slightly reddened tips of her ears.

Qian Renxue blushed and changed the subject: "You just said you already had a target." Her eyes flickered slightly, "Could it be..."

Before he could finish speaking, Feng Yao shook his head with a smile: "You mean the one from the Soul Master Competition?"

"Otherwise what?" Qian Renxue raised an eyebrow.

Feng Yao shook his head and said, "It's too early yet." A mysterious glint flashed in his eyes as he added, "Whether we'll meet in the future depends on luck."

Qian Renxue nodded gracefully: "Then I will have Uncle She and Uncle Ci accompany you."

Feng Yao smiled and agreed. Qian Renxue then parted her lips slightly and transmitted her voice telepathically. A short while later, two powerful figures silently appeared at the study door, respectfully bowing to Qian Renxue: "Greetings, Young Master."

Qian Renxue raised her jade hand in a gesture of respect: "Uncles, there's no need for such formalities." Turning her gaze to Feng Yao, she said, "I'm entrusting Xiao Feng's soul ring to you this time."

She Long nodded steadily, but Ci Xue hesitated slightly: "By the young master's side."

Qian Renxue waved her hand lightly: "It's alright, just take Xiaofeng and go and come back soon."

Feng Yao bowed respectfully to the two men, saying, "Thank you for your trouble, seniors."

She Long waved his sleeve: "There's no time to lose." Before he finished speaking, Feng Yao felt a tightening around his waist and was lifted up. The intense feeling of weightlessness made him helplessly rub his forehead, but he heard Qian Renxue's silvery laughter in his ears as they drifted further and further away in the clouds.

Within days, the three figures appeared deep within the Star Dou Great Forest. Towering ancient trees blocked out the sun, and the air was filled with a primal atmosphere.

"Kid, what year do you want?" She Long crushed a withered branch, his voice hoarse.

Feng Yao brushed aside the drooping vines, his smile gentle: "A soul beast aged fifty to sixty thousand years will suffice."

Upon hearing this, She Long and Ci Xue stopped simultaneously, their gazes flashing like lightning. "Are you sure?" She Long frowned. "At this age, it's already at the eighth ring level of an ordinary Soul Douluo."

Feng Yao gathered a wisp of soul power at his fingertips, and his fifth soul ring, which had been radiating light for thirty thousand years, released an incomparably powerful aura: "Senior, you are wise; this junior's fifth soul ring has already reached such a level."

She Long nodded silently, a complex emotion flashing in his eyes. He suddenly recalled the unusual silence in the Papal Palace a year ago when he reported to Bibi Dong about the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile School's secret funding. The figure on the gilded throne remained silent for a long time, leaving only the echo of the scepter lightly tapping the ground.

At this moment, he finally realized that the young man's extraordinary talent had probably put even the high and mighty Pope under unprecedented pressure.

On the other side, in a secluded valley, a waterfall like a silver river cascades down a hundred-foot cliff. The roaring sound of the water is like the drums of a thunder god, and the spray it creates refracts into rainbows in the sunlight. The surging water vapor permeates the entire valley, making the lush vegetation glisten and translucent.

Amidst the deafening roar, the waterfall is staging a scene that defies all logic—

If any onlookers stood on the bank, they would surely be speechless with astonishment. The waterfall, with a drop of two hundred meters, mysteriously stopped flowing fifty meters from the surface of the pool. The rushing water seemed to have crashed into an invisible barrier, suddenly exploding into thousands of droplets, transforming into a curtain of water that splashed everywhere. Sunlight pierced through this mist, refracting countless miniature rainbows.

The deep pool below no longer bears the impact of the waterfall; instead, it is drenched in a continuous "curtain of rain." Every falling, glistening droplet creates ripples on the dark green surface of the pool.

In the center of that hazy water curtain, a dragon-like figure appeared and disappeared. He moved with mysterious footwork, and the small black hammer in his hand danced like a dragon, each swing carrying the power to split mountains and shatter rocks.

To everyone's horror, with each swing of the hammer, the waterfall, which had stopped flowing for fifty meters, began to rise steadily! Sixty meters, seventy meters—the black hammer light, like a black dragon defying the heavens, forcefully pushed up the massive curtain of water. When the waterfall was pushed a hundred meters into the air, the figure suddenly froze.

Time seemed to stand still at that moment. All the black light, the vapor, and the roar condensed into a final, ultimate ray of light—"Boom!"

The jet-black hammer transformed into a ferocious black dragon, soaring into the sky with the force to shatter mountains and cleave the heavens. The magnificent waterfall, with its two-hundred-meter drop, crumbled under the power of this single hammer blow! Billions of water droplets scattered like celestial flowers, and the entire waterfall vanished from sight in an instant. The hammer's power, like a black dragon, emitted a deafening roar in the air, the sound waves so tangible that the surrounding ancient trees trembled.

Tang Hao stood with his hands behind his back by the pool, a rare look of approval appearing on his bronze face. Watching the towering waterfall being shattered, this former Haotian Douluo had to admit that even at his peak at the age of twenty-five, he might not have been able to achieve such a feat.

A curtain of glistening rain poured down from the sky. The figure finally became clearly visible: it was none other than Tang San, his entire body enveloped in white mist!
Tang Hao rubbed his chin with his rough fingers, a complex look flashing in his eyes: "Xiao San's Chaotic Cloak Hammer Technique has been honed to perfection, but..." He looked at the figure in the pool and sighed heavily.

"If we could obtain that spiritual skull, and pair it with that special spirit ring," his voice deepened, "that place might be worth a try." The mountain wind ruffled his graying temples. "Although his spiritual power far surpasses that of his peers now, going there..."

He shook his head, his unspoken words dissipating in the wind with the roar of the waterfall.

Tang San moved with lightning speed, leaping into the air from the round rock. The Clear Sky Hammer in his hand vanished in a burst of black light, while dozens of Blue Silver Grasses suddenly burst forth, lashing the water's surface like serpents, creating a spray of sparkling water. Using the force of this recoil, he somersaulted several times in mid-air, landing steadily on the shore rock beside Tang Hao.

Tang Hao stood with his hands behind his back, his gaze piercing: "The Chaotic Cloak Hammer Technique ends here today. Little San, how do you assess your own combat abilities?"

Tang San hesitated for a moment, intending to respond modestly, but under his father's stern gaze, he changed his words: "Still far from it."

"Do you know where the difference lies?" Tang Hao pressed.

Tang San was speechless for a moment, then shook his head slightly.

Tang Hao said in a deep voice, "The master's theories are unparalleled, laying a solid foundation for you. You've grown rapidly and have considerable practical experience." He then changed the subject, "but you lack the essence of real combat."

"The essence?" Tang San's eyes gleamed. His father, a top-tier Title Douluo, spoke words that were worth pondering.

"True combat is a life-or-death struggle," Tang Hao's voice was like iron. "What you've experienced is merely a competition, with little real threat to your life." His gaze suddenly sharpened. "Only when people are on the verge of despair can they unleash their potential. What you lack most right now is pure killing intent."

Before the words were even finished, a chilling aura suddenly enveloped Tang San. The killing intent was almost tangible, making him feel as if he had fallen into an ice cave; even his Purple Demon Eyes dared not look directly at his father. Even more terrifying, the water droplets on his body froze into ice!
The killing intent comes and goes quickly. Tang Hao explained, "Killing intent affects not only the enemy, but also yourself. It can push you beyond your limits, making you fearless in the face of death. It's the sublimation of courage."

"Please teach me, Dad!" Tang San said with a determined look in his eyes.

Tang Hao shook his head: "I can't teach you. You know I won't really kill you." He looked into the distance, "Tomorrow I'll take you somewhere."

The following morning, the father and son left the pool where they had cultivated for two years. Tang San's body, having been tempered, was now as smooth and lustrous as jade, and his eyes shone with a restrained divine light.

Five days later, the father and son saw the familiar city gate. Tang Hao stopped and said, "Before you begin your training, you need something important."

Tang Hao led Tang San to the most bustling area of ​​Heaven Dou City, where they stopped in front of an elegant five-story building. This building, named "Moon Pavilion," stood out as exceptionally refined and elegant among the towering buildings of Heaven Dou City.

Tang San looked up and saw that all the guests coming and going were richly dressed and had an extraordinary air about them. He couldn't help but ask, "Father, where is this?"

Tang Hao didn't explain, but simply said, "Follow me." Then he stepped forward.

Upon reaching the door, two servants in blue robes raised their hands to stop them. The young man on the left, polite yet firm, said, "I'm sorry, Yuexuan does not receive guests who are improperly dressed."

Tang San's eyes turned cold, and Blue Silver Grass instantly coiled around them, binding the two attendants to their spots. Tang Hao remained noncommittal and stepped directly into the Moon Pavilion.

Upon entering, a delicate fragrance wafts through the air. The boxwood screen wall exudes an ancient woody scent, while the fragrance of exotic orchids on either side adds to the tranquility. Passing the screen wall, the spacious hall is exquisitely furnished, and several young women in simple clothes are on duty at their desks.

The girls looked surprised to see Tang Hao and his son enter. Tang Hao walked straight to the girl in the lead and said, "Tell Yuehua that an old friend has come to visit."

The girl hesitated before asking, "Who are you?"

Tang Hao stood with his hands behind his back: "Just say, 'When the moon is waning, an old friend seems to appear.'"

The girl hurried upstairs to inform them. A short while later, rapid footsteps echoed from upstairs. Tang Hao, hearing the sound, frowned slightly.

Four figures descended the stairs slowly. Leading them was the blue-robed attendant who had been subdued by Tang San earlier, accompanied by a middle-aged man in a magnificent purple robe and two tall, thin guards in blue. The purple-robed man looked down at Tang Hao and his son, his eyes revealing undisguised contempt.

The tall young woman who had been announced earlier followed closely behind, whispering to the man in purple robes, "Steward, this is the gentleman who requests an audience with the madam."

The purple-robed steward waved his hand casually and instructed the blue-clad guards behind him, "Moon Pavilion is a place of refined elegance; see the guests out." His tone was utterly arrogant and unquestionable.

Two blue-clad guards descended upon receiving the order. Their steps appeared unhurried, yet contained a hidden rhythm. With each step, the pressure of their soul power intensified, and an invisible pressure surged forth like a tide.

A cold glint flashed in Tang San's eyes, and he was about to step forward when he heard Tang Hao say calmly, "What if I don't leave?"

The purple-robed steward sneered from the stairs and waved his hand, saying, "Do I need to teach you how to do this?"

Just as the two blue-clad guards were about to make their move, a suffocating killing intent suddenly erupted! The air in the entire first floor of Moon Pavilion seemed to freeze instantly, and everyone felt as if they had fallen into an ice cave, unable to move even a finger. Tang Hao's killing intent alone was enough to make everyone present stand frozen in place.

Just as Tang Hao's murderous aura was about to erupt completely, a clear, cold voice came from upstairs: "Stop."

The voice seemed to possess a certain magic, momentarily pausing the tense atmosphere. The purple-robed steward and Tang San looked up simultaneously, only to see a beautiful woman in a silver palace dress descending gracefully. Every step she took was precise, as if measured with precision. Two maids followed behind her, yet they could not diminish her charm in the slightest.

Tang San's pupils contracted slightly—this woman's age was surprisingly difficult to fathom. Her face appeared to be that of a woman in her late twenties, yet her worldly-wise eyes held a vicissitude beyond her years. Her silver-embroidered palace dress accentuated her elegant curves, and her overall demeanor instantly reminded Tang San of someone: Bibi Dong, the Pope of the Spirit Hall.

(End of this chapter)