That rounded spout.
That full, heavy curve.
That obnoxiously shiny golden handle—perfect for gripping.
The moment Ning Fengzhi finally recognized what that airborne object truly was, his entire body went numb.
"HOLY—!!"
His scream cracked so hard it shattered decades of cultivated Sect Master composure into dust.
His voice even jumped an octave.
"Uncle Jian!! QUICK! CUT IT DOWN! Don't let that thing touch me!"
At this moment, Ning Fengzhi would have chosen being blasted by a Spirit Saint's full-force spirit ability over 0.01 seconds of physical contact with that object.
This wasn't about injury.
This was about dignity.
This was about reputation.
This was about the foundation of his Dao Heart!!
Sword Douluo Chen Xin reacted instantly.
If Ning Fengzhi truly got hit by such a weapon, then Chen Xin might as well write his own name backward.
But just as he raised his hand and the Seven Kill Sword cleaved out—
—Sword Douluo's expression cracked.
He saw it too.
Not a brick.
Not a spirit tool.
Not some bizarre ancient treasure.
It was—
A golden chamber pot.
A sparkling, radiant, gorgeously crafted, even artistically engraved with mandarin ducks frolicking in water—
chamber pot.
Time slowed to a crawl.
Everyone present—even the newly arrived Heaven Dou soldiers—stared, unblinking, at that golden chamber pot tracing a perfect arc through the night sky.
Spirit Hall members: "…"
Snake Lance Douluo, who had personally carried it out:
I should've welded it to the floor…
Azure Luan Douluo's expression twitched violently.
Ever since they stumbled into Feng Ran Pavilion, Spirit Hall's entire aesthetic had been rapidly derailing into an unrecognizable cosmic farce.
As the chamber pot—carrying Qian Renxue's accumulated rage, anxiety, and the spiritual weight of "aborted seniority"—neared Ning Fengzhi's face—
Sword Douluo still moved.
He had to.
He could endure death in battle.
He could endure shame.
But he could not allow Ning Fengzhi's face to be blessed by a chamber pot.
If this incident ever spread, the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Sect and he, Sword Douluo himself, would become a continental joke for centuries.
CLANG!
The Seven Kill Sword sang.
A razor-sharp sword qi struck the chamber pot cleanly.
WHOOSH!
The golden chamber pot was sliced perfectly in half, falling with two crisp thuds at Ning Fengzhi's feet.
And then—
the aura erupted.
Not a visible aura.
A smell.
A presence.
A legendary, ancient, indescribable force beyond mortal senses—
The smell carried the Heaven Dou Empire's thousands of years of prosperity and decline…
The kidney conditions of successive emperors…
The accumulated "dragon qi" sealed within this pot for generations…
And it was now—all at once—liberated.
It was like…
Centuries-old pickled socks submerged in rotten sauerkraut broth…
Mixed with the drunken burp of a dragon…
Finished with a spiritual ascension through ghost pepper fermentation.
Ning Fengzhi—closest to the blast—instantly turned pale.
He covered his mouth and nose, stumbling back three steps, stomach rolling like a tidal wave.
The World went silent.
The alarms, the shouting, the clashing of weapons—
All became distant whispers.
The night wind rustled a few leaves across the split chamber pot.
sha… sha…
Sword Douluo slowly sheathed his sword.
He looked at the Seven Kill Sword.
Then at the bisected chamber pot.
A long, silent moment passed.
A deep, existential confusion settled in his eyes.
I, Sword Douluo Chen Xin…
Devoted my life to the sword. Polished my sword heart for decades.
My blade has slain dragons, split mountains, and repelled beast tides.
And today… it was used… to cut a chamber pot.
A massive emptiness surged in his heart.
He could feel it.
A layer of filth.
A stain.
Urine stains… covering his sword heart.
Only when the wind carried the smell away did Ning Fengzhi dare remove his hands from his face.
He stared blankly at the mutilated golden artifact at his feet.
His mind was empty.
More than ten years of painstaking nurture.
More than ten years of expectation.
More than ten years of pouring hope into the "future pillar of the Empire."
And what did he receive?
An undercover agent.
A deception.
And a chamber pot that almost slapped him.
Humiliation?
No—
This had transcended humiliation.
This was a psychological attack.
A Spirit Breaking Technique from another dimension.
"You…"
Ning Fengzhi's lips trembled.
He wanted to speak.
But nothing came out.
He had thought Spirit Hall's Holy Maiden was simply outraged, cornered, exasperated.
Who knew her first move would be a nuclear mental strike?
He wanted to question.
To condemn.
To scold.
But in the end, all he could squeeze out was the most honest, soul-deep question:
"Why… a chamber pot?"
"Hmm?"
Qian Renxue's anger faltered.
"A chamber pot?"
She turned toward the object—
Saw the two pieces—
And her pupils shrank violently.
This… wasn't just a chamber pot.
This was the Heaven Dou Empire's ancestral chamber pot.
The founding emperor's personal chamber pot.
Rumored to have never been washed for 365 days a year—to preserve its "true dragon qi."
Qian Renxue's soul ascended.
Then crashed.
"AAAAAAHHHH!!!!!"
She grabbed Azure Luan Douluo's sleeve and tore off a large piece of fabric.
Without hesitation, she furiously scrubbed her right hand—the hand that had held the pot—like a maniac trying to erase her own fingerprints.
Her palm instantly turned red.
Azure Luan Douluo silently hid his arm behind his back, stepping away.
He feared that if Young Miss still felt unclean, she might use his face next.
But Qian Renxue's raging shame hadn't subsided.
Her eyes locked onto the culprit—
Snake Lance Douluo.
She lunged.
And began beating him mercilessly.
"Snake Lance!"
"Are you brain-damaged?! Hit by a carriage?! Kicked by a donkey?!"
"I told you to move the treasury! Why the hell did you bring THIS!?"
Each kick carried the pain of a young girl's collapsing dignity.
Snake Lance Douluo crouched, covering his head, letting her stomp him into the floor.
"Young Master! You told us to empty everything!"
"My storage tools were full! It had a handle—easy to carry!"
"And…"
His voice shrank to a whimper.
"Didn't the High Priest say the family was short on money…?"
"I thought this chamber pot was pure gold… and an antique… so I kept it…"
"Even a mosquito is still meat…"
_____________________
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