"Third Soul Skill, Holy Fire!"
Up in the sky, amidst the thick clouds of noxious green gas, a sharp scream pierced the air. Suddenly, brilliant gold and red flames erupted, igniting with an explosive force that blazed through the toxic fog. The entire sky was illuminated by the fiery radiance as the flames rapidly consumed the green miasma.
"Oh no!!"
The moment Yu Xiaogang heard those fateful words—Holy Fire—his entire body tensed with fear. Panic coursed through him as he immediately clenched his backside, cutting off the emission of his foul green gas. He tried to flee, his hefty body lurching forward in a desperate waddle.
But it was too late.
Though he had managed to stop most of the green fog, a lingering thread of the toxic vapor still clung to his rear. The Holy Fire from the sky caught onto that connection like a fuse, and within moments, it raced toward its unfortunate destination—Yu Xiaogang's backside.
BOOM!
A muffled explosion erupted from his rear, propelling Yu Xiaogang into the air like a human rocket. Flames blasted out from his backside as if he were a malfunctioning firework, sending him flying uncontrollably before he crashed into the ground nearby with a painful thud.
"Master!!"
Seeing his teacher violently hurled through the air and now writhing in agony on the ground, Tang San cried out in horror. He dashed toward Yu Xiaogang's side, heart pounding in his chest.
When Tang San reached him, the sight that greeted him was worse than he could have imagined. Yu Xiaogang lay on the ground, moaning in pain, his hands clutching his scorched and mangled rear. His clothes had fused with his skin, the flesh burned and blistered. A terrible stench of charred fabric and flesh hung in the air.
Tang San's face twitched. Even looking at it made his own body ache in sympathy. It looks awful, he thought, wincing at the sight. He felt an immense wave of guilt wash over him. This was his fault—he had begged his master to help, and now, Yu Xiaogang had paid a terrible price for it.
But what could Tang San do now? His master's injuries were in such an... unfortunate location, and the burns were severe. If he tried to treat them hastily, it might only make things worse, potentially leading to bleeding or even death. Helpless, he could only stand by and hope Yu Xiaogang would recover on his own.
Meanwhile, up in the sky, Bibi Dong had just noticed what had happened below. She had been too focused on the ongoing battle to pay attention to Yu Xiaogang's actions—until now. The sight of that grotesque pig-headed figure, baring his rear to the sky, grotesquely swollen like a balloon, only to release a revolting barrage of flatulence… it was more than she could stomach.
The Empress of Spirit Hall felt her eye twitch in disgust, her stomach turning as her mouth curled in distaste. Was that… Yu Xiaogang? The thought sent a shiver down her spine. She once had feelings for that man, but seeing him like this—transformed into a filthy, bloated pig-man, unleashing such a repulsive attack—made her want to retch.
How could I have ever been interested in… that?
Elsewhere in the sky, the battle raged on. Furious from being caught in Yu Xiaogang's nauseating green fog, Flame Eagle Douluo unleashed his Holy Fire to incinerate the stench. The burning flames cleared the battlefield, but not without first igniting Yu Xiaogang's unfortunate backside.
While the Holy Fire cleansed the air, the battle between Tang Hao and Spirit Hall's nine Titled Douluo continued. Despite being hailed as the greatest genius of the Clear Sky Clan and wielding both a ten-thousand-year spirit ring and spirit bones, Tang Hao was no match for the relentless assault. His body was battered, wounds accumulating with each passing second.
Tang Hao felt the weight of despair settle on his shoulders. He knew his limits, and judging by the speed at which his spirit power was draining and his mounting injuries, he could only last another five minutes at most. That was, of course, assuming that the Spirit Hall Douluo didn't start trading blows at the risk of mutual injury. If they did, he wouldn't last even that long.
I need a way out…
The thought gnawed at his mind. If he fell here, Tang San would be next, and his wife A Yin would remain lost forever. He gritted his teeth, determined to find a way to survive this. There has to be something!
As he desperately searched for an escape, a blow from both Thousand Jun Douluo and Dragon Lord Douluo landed simultaneously, knocking him from the sky. Tang Hao managed to use his Clear Sky Hammer to block, but the sheer force sent him crashing into the ground below, demolishing a nearby building in the process.
Tang Hao groaned in pain as he dragged himself from the rubble, but as he rose back into the air, his eyes fell upon the nearby figures of Tai Tan, Yang Wudi, Bai He, and Niu Gao.
Suddenly, an idea struck him.
There they were—the four patriarchs of the Great Clans. Though still only Spirit Douluo, their unique martial spirits could provide just enough of a distraction. If each of them could hold off one of Spirit Hall's lower-ranked Titled Douluo for even a short time, he might stand a chance of escaping.
It's risky, but it's my only option.
Without thinking twice, Tang Hao made his decision. He didn't have time to worry about whether they would willingly help him—he would force them into the fight if he had to. Though he felt a pang of shame for dragging them into this, his survival—and Tang San's future—mattered more.
"Tai Tan, help me!!" Tang Hao bellowed as he shot toward the four clan leaders.
"Damn it, Tang Hao's trying to drag us into this!" Yang Wudi snarled, his eyes flashing with anger. It was just like the Clear Sky Clan—using the Four Great Clans as nothing more than pawns to shield themselves from danger.
"We need to get out of here!" Yang Wudi shouted, urging Tai Tan and the others to flee. Facing off against ten Titled Douluo in the middle of a chaotic battlefield was a death sentence for them.
But Tai Tan hesitated, his heart torn. He glanced around at the buildings of his clan's residence, many of which were already crumbling under the pressure of the battle. The cries of children and women trapped in the wreckage reached his ears, pulling at his sense of responsibility.
He couldn't just abandon his people.