"Ha… ha… haaah—"
Heavy, ragged breaths tore from Tang San's chest as his eyes flew open.
Cold sweat drenched his body, soaking the thin bedding beneath him. His vision swam violently, fragments of darkness and crimson light still clinging to his consciousness.
For a moment, he thought he was trapped in a nightmare.
The sensation was still there—the tearing pain, the sound of bone being ripped from flesh, the unbearable agony as something rooted in his spine was forcibly stripped away.
The image of Bibi Dong lingered vividly in his mind.
The absolute indifference with which she had torn apart his Eight Spider Lances.
Tang San's pupils contracted sharply.
This wasn't a dream.
Reality crashed down on him like a mountain.
"Bibi Dong—!"
He sat up abruptly, veins bulging on his neck as hatred surged uncontrollably.
"You have a way to die!"
A murderous aura erupted instinctively from his body.
Whoosh!
Before the echo of his shout could fade, the door to the next room burst open.
A tall figure appeared beside the bed almost instantly, with a very fast speed. It was Tang Hao.
For the past week, he had barely slept—he was blaming himself for not being present to protect his son from the wicked Spirit Hall.
Seeing Tang San awake, breathing, conscious— he was overwhelmed with joy.
He had nearly lost Tang San that day.
When he carried Tang San's mutilated body away that day, blood soaking through his clothes, Tang Hao had felt fear.
The only reason Tang San was still alive was because, on their retreat, Tang Hao's powerful perception had detected an unusual plant radiating terrifying vitality. Acting purely on instinct, he had uprooted it and forced its essence into Tang San's shattered body.
And then—
Tang San's injuries healed but he had fallen into a deep coma.
Seven days later had Tang San finally awakened.
Tang San's voice trembled slightly.
"Father…"
Tang Hao did not answer.
He stepped forward and pulled Tang San into his arms with overwhelming force, as if afraid his boy would disappear again the moment he let go.
"Sorry… San."
His voice was hoarse, heavy with suppressed emotion.
"I wasn't there."
Tang San stiffened briefly—then relaxed.
For the first time since waking, he noticed something strange.
There was no pain or tearing agony in his back.
Instead, his body felt… stronger.
Tang San slowly pulled away from his father and checked at himself.
He found his skin unblemished. Even his spine—where the external soul bone had been violently ripped away—felt good, as if it had never been injured at all.
He closed his eyes and circulated his soul power.
The result shocked him.
Level 38.
Not only had his cultivation not fallen—it had increased.
Tang San looked up sharply.
"Father… what happened?"
Tang Hao took a deep breath and slowly explained everything.
As Tang San listened, his expression grew increasingly solemn.
'Vitality so strong that it repaired torn meridians… reconstructed flesh… stabilized soul power…'
His fingers clenched slightly.
'This isn't an ordinary herb. This is an immortal herb.'
One perfectly compatible with Blue Silver Grass.
Tang San's mind raced.
'How could such an immortal herb appear in the wild?'
Tang San fell silent, his thoughts still circling around the appearance of that mysterious immortal herb.
At that moment, Tang Hao spoke again, his tone low and heavy.
"San…That woman—Bibi Dong."
Tang San's eyes darkened. The hatred in them burned wildly.
"She took my Eight Spider Lances."
"Then I will take something far more precious from her."
However, before he could pursue the thread any further, Tang Hao's deep, resolute voice sounded once more.
"I will go to Spirit Hall."
Tang San's heart jolted.
Tang Hao's eyes were cold and unwavering, murderous intent restrained only by iron will.
"I will fight that Bibi Dong and take back your External Soul Bone."
Tang San reacted immediately, almost shouting—
"Father, no—you cannot go!"
He forced himself upright despite Tang Hao's grip.
"The Elder Hall of Spirit Hall is filled with Super Douluo. Even if they cannot defeat you one-on-one, if they join forces—"
Tang Hao, even at his peak, could not walk unscathed into Spirit Hall and leave alive after provoking the entire Elder Hall.
That would not be revenge but suicide.
Tang Hao's brows furrowed, but before he could respond, a calm, somewhat hoarse voice came from the doorway.
"Then I will go and question Bibi Dong."
Everyone in the room turned.
The newcomer stood straight-backed despite his frail body, his eyes sharp.
It was Yu Xiaogang.
As footsteps echoed, more teachers and students gradually gathered outside the room, drawn by the commotion.
Yu Xiaogang stepped forward and spoke with quiet confidence.
"I may not be powerful. But I still hold the Elder Token of Spirit Hall."
He lifted his chin slightly, as if recalling past authority.
"With that token, I have the right to directly question the Pope.I will confront Bibi Dong."
"And I am certain my questioning will make her regret her actions and return Tang San's External Soul Bone."
The words rang clearly in the room.
Tang San's lips parted.
"Teacher…"
His voice was soft, conflicted. Rationally, he knew the truth.
If Bibi Dong had truly cared—even a little—about Yu Xiaogang's feelings, she would never have so brutally torn apart his Eight Spider Lances after hearing his name.
And yet—
Hope was a strange thing.
'What if she truly was blinded by emotion?'
'What if, for once, her obsession overpowered reason?'
A man who had lost everything could not help but cling to even the smallest possibility.
Yu Xiaogang looked at Tang San, his gaze filled with something that resembled nostalgia and determination.
"Don't worry. I will bring Little San's External Soul Bone back."
He spoke the words firmly, as if making a solemn vow.
Then, in front of everyone, Yu Xiaogang turned around and walked away with upright posture and self-assured steps, his figure exuding an air of pride that bordered on stubbornness.
The room fell silent. Tang Hao's expression was unreadable. Tang San lowered his eyes.
Neither of them said anything.