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The dizzying sensation of time distortion receded like a retreating tide, and the firm touch of solid ground returned beneath his feet. Gu La opened his eyes to behold a desolate, barren wasteland.
He was back. The timeline of Legend of the Dragon King.
"Phew…" A restrained sigh escaped from beside him, tinged with discomfort. Gu Yue furrowed her brows slightly as she took in the harsh surroundings.
"Welcome home, Your Majesty the Silver Dragon King," Gu La quipped, tilting his head with his usual faintly amused smile. His tone was light, as though discussing the weather.
Gu Yue ignored his jest, shooting him a cold glance sharp as a blade. "Enough with the nonsense. Where are we?"
Gu La shrugged, communicating with his avatar to confirm their distance. He scratched his nose. "An isolated island in the southern part of the Star Luo Continent."
Gu Yue's expression remained indifferent. In a flash of silver light, she sped off toward the north.
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In another timeline, Douluo Continent, Tian Dou City, Tian Dou Empire.
Once a bustling metropolis, the atmosphere of Tian Dou City today was unusually solemn, even carrying an almost reverent fervor.
On the wide central avenue, heads bobbed in a sea of humanity that stretched endlessly into the distance. People stood on tiptoes, craning their necks, their eager gazes fixed on the magnificent structure at the end of the road—the newly completed "Temple of Wisdom."
The temple was constructed entirely of massive white stone, its style simple yet majestic. The towering dome gleamed brilliantly under the sunlight.
In the center of the square before the temple stood a towering statue of a scholar several meters high. The figure wore a plain robe, one hand holding a scroll, the other raised slightly, pointing into the distance. Its face exuded calmness and wisdom. On the base of the statue were engraved two bold, powerful characters—Oak.
The square was packed with people, yet it was eerily silent, save for the muffled sounds of breathing and the rustle of clothing. All eyes were focused on the heavy bronze doors of the temple, which were slowly opening.
Within the doorway, bathed in soft light, a figure emerged with measured steps.
The man wore a long black robe so deep it seemed to swallow light. The robe's design was starkly minimalist, devoid of any ornamental embellishments, save for a few faint, dark gold borders along the collar and cuffs—patterns that resembled congealed blood.
His face was obscured by the deep shadow cast by the hood, revealing only a sharply defined jawline.
Most striking, however, was the faint gray aura swirling around him. The aura was icy, lifeless, and carried an indifference to all things, evoking a chilling sensation deep within one's soul. It was as if one were staring directly at death itself.
Behind him, vague silhouettes of two strange artifacts floated: a massive, grotesque scythe whose blade shimmered with the light of soul reaping, and an ancient pyramid whose apex seemed to point toward eternal judgment.
This was the mysterious being who walked the mortal plane as the emissary of "Professor Oak"—Du'An.
As he fully stepped out of the temple gates and stood atop the towering stairs, facing the boundless sea of people below, the entire square fell into absolute silence. Even the wind seemed to freeze.
After a few heartbeats, a deafening roar erupted, surging skyward!
"Professor Oak! Light of Wisdom!"
"Professor Oak! Guide us forward!"
The fervent chants were synchronized, countless faces flushed with excitement, eyes filled with near-blind worship and reverence. Believers waved their arms wildly, yearning to draw closer to the figure on the steps.
Du'An's face, hidden in shadow, remained utterly expressionless. He slowly raised a hand shrouded in the black robe, his movements imbued with a cold, rhythmic precision, as though plucking invisible strings.
The tidal wave of frenzied cries was instantly silenced, as if throttled by an invisible hand. The square once again fell into a pin-drop silence, leaving only countless pairs of fiery eyes fixed intently upon him.
A low, calm voice with strange penetrating power, akin to an echo from a tomb, reached every ear clearly:
"The gods say, wisdom is the blade that pierces ignorance."
"The gods say, death is the ultimate equalizer of life."
"The gods say, revere the unknown, explore the truth."
"Remember this."
These three brief sentences branded themselves onto the hearts of every believer like unyielding iron laws.
The crowd below held their breath, their eyes burning with even greater fervor. Many trembled with emotion, as if they had just heard the holiest of proverbs.
Du'An lowered his hand, saying nothing more. The icy gray vortex around him seemed to grow denser.
He turned, his black robe slicing through the air in a trail of lifeless stillness, and retreated into the profound shadows of the Temple of Wisdom. Behind him, the heavy bronze doors slowly closed, sealing off the clamor of the outside world.
Deep within the temple, a sparsely furnished meditation chamber awaited. There were no extravagant decorations, only cold stone walls and a stone desk.
Du'An removed his hood, revealing a face that bore a seven-tenths resemblance to Gu La's original form but was paler and more devoid of vitality.
He approached the desk, where stacks of thick papers covered with writing lay neatly arranged. The topmost page bore the title: On the Role of the Spiritual Sea in Soul Master Cultivation.
His fingertips brushed the cool surface of the paper with inhuman precision. This was part of the "paper repository" left behind by Gu La—a study on the future development of the Spiritual Sea.
Du'An's eyes betrayed no emotion, as if he were merely handling an item unrelated to himself.
In the three years since the main body's departure, he had traversed the Douluo Continent, encountering death, gathering souls, and skyrocketing his cultivation to the level of a Title Douluo. He had also established the "Temple of Wisdom" in the Tian Dou Empire, centered around the worship of Oak.
It wasn't that he hadn't considered building temples under the names of Earth or Forest, but if people lacked a direct mental association with those concepts, the faith energy collected would be negligible.
Thus, he had chosen to gather faith under the banner of "Wisdom," planning to gradually transform it later.
Suddenly, his pen paused mid-stroke. On his nearly translucent face, the lifeless eyes flickered with a faint, signal-like disturbance.
He raised his head, his gaze seemingly piercing through the thick stone walls, directed toward the distant direction of Spirit City.
At the same moment, a vast, scorching presence brimming with supreme authority swept across Tian Dou City like an invisible wave, finally pressing heavily down upon the Temple of Wisdom.
That presence loomed above, carrying scrutiny and an unshakable will—it was none other than the Great Worship of the Spirit Hall, Angel Douluo Qian Daoliu.
Within that intent lay a crystal-clear message: Outside the city, battle.
Du'An set down his pen, his icy face betraying no emotion.
He donned his deep hood once more, his figure fading soundlessly in the meditation chamber, leaving behind only a wisp of cold gray mist that slowly dissipated into the air.
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