Chapter 111: Smearing Tang Hao
The Great Spirit Arena was silent, utterly still.
Every eye stared at the dark figure on stage, their understanding of reality shattering before them.
A Spirit Saint—one who had even activated his Martial Soul True Body—had been reduced to little more than a clown before the Warlock.
He had leapt and attacked, yet achieved nothing… and had fallen without reason.
Worse still, no one had even seen how he lost.
He was merely looked at—then collapsed.
A mental attack? Perhaps. But what kind of mental strike possessed such horrifying power?
After all, the Warlock's official rank was only at the forty-sixth level—a mere Spirit King.
Luo Ling stood quietly amidst the shadows, his face pale under the darkness that concealed it.
Even though he had ended the Fusion with his puppet, using Mind Stripping against a Spirit Saint like Flender had taken its toll.
He was still holding Tang San by the head. The boy no longer screamed. Once the fusion ended, Luo Ling had also released the control of his soul threads.
Now Tang San simply lay drained of spirit power and mental energy, plunged into a deep, comatose sleep.
But to the audience, it looked as though the youth had fainted from torture.
Luo Ling didn't move. He was waiting.
Flender was down. Now he was waiting for Tang Hao to appear so that he could plant a Soul Seed within him.
At his current level, it was impossible to invade Tang Hao's spirit—but one day, with enough power, even Tang Hao would become his puppet.
Below the stage, Tang Hao glared upward, eyes burning red as blood.
He had been ready to strike the moment he saw Tang San's agony—but Flender had moved first.
He'd thought a Spirit Saint would easily rescue his son, sparing him from revealing his identity. Later, he could quietly find and kill the Warlock for revenge.
But who could have imagined that a Spirit Saint was powerless against the Warlock?
Tang Hao's hands tightened. A massive black hammer appeared in his grip—its weight and aura shattering the air.
He no longer cared about restraint. The Warlock had to die.
On the stage, Luo Ling sensed it instantly—an overwhelming surge of killing intent and danger.
Without hesitation, he activated his fourth soul skill: Displacement Phantom.
His body vanished just as an explosion thundered from above.
A colossal black hammer smashed down onto the stage, obliterating it in a single hit. The Duel Platform splintered, shockwaves hurling nearby spectators out of their seats.
In the VIP boxes, the previously composed experts all widened their eyes in disbelief.
From the rubble rose a dark, towering figure, gripping the black hammer.
Nine spirit rings pulsed beneath his feet—each radiating unimaginable power.
And the final one shimmered crimson like blood.
A hundred-thousand-year spirit ring!
"A hundred-thousand-year ring!?"
"A Titled Douluo!"
"That hammer—is that the Clear Sky Hammer?!"
The onlookers broke into urgent whispers.
"Tang Hao," Ning Fengzhi murmured, his expression grave as he stared at the rising shadow within the ruins.
He turned to the two elders behind him. "Sword Uncle, Bone Uncle—if things turn against Luo Ling, protect him at all costs."
Even as he spoke, another surge of formidable auras erupted from a different VIP room—power equal to Tang Hao's own.
The entire arena was in utter frenzy.
Using the chaos to his advantage, Luo Ling cloaked himself in Abyss Without Light, erasing his presence completely as he silently summoned the Crow Shadow Puppet and reinitiated Spirit Fusion.
Though he did not fear Tang Hao, he would be a fool not to be cautious.
The Haotian Douluo was clearly furious—and intent on crushing him utterly.
Luo Ling smiled faintly and glanced at the unconscious Tang San. Since Tang Hao had already taken the bait, it was time to let go of the boy.
He waved his hand casually, tossing Tang San down to Oscar, who had managed to flee the stage.
Of the Shrek Seven Devils, only Ning Rongrong and Oscar remained standing; the rest had been drained of spirit power to sustain Luo Ling's battle intensity.
Seeing his son tossed aside unharmed, Tang Hao exhaled faintly in relief.
Once he confirmed that Oscar had carried Tang San to safety, his gaze locked back on the shadowy figure standing in the ruins.
"Such honor for a Titled Douluo—sneaking an attack on a junior," Luo Ling's voice echoed coolly. "Tell me, is this the dignity of the Clear Sky Sect?"
"Or are all your disciples such worthless cowards?"
Before Tang Hao could reply, Luo Ling's words struck like knives—casually revealing his identity and publicly belittling the Clear Sky Sect.
He wanted to make Tang Hao lose control—to drive him into rage, so that his Mind Domain could unleash emotional chaos and create an opening for the Soul Seed.
He couldn't plant one unless his own soul was vastly stronger—or if the target's mind was in disarray.
"Arrogant whelp!" Tang Hao snapped, barely keeping his temper in check. "My Clear Sky Sect needs no lectures from the likes of you!"
He was forcing down his fury. Now that Tang San was out of harm's way, anonymity was his only protection. He couldn't afford to expose their connection.
"Oh, I see," Luo Ling continued, his tone mockingly light. "So, attacking defenseless juniors must be the Clear Sky Sect's standard practice?"
"Perhaps all those mysterious young geniuses who vanished in recent years were the handiwork of your sect's assassins?"
The darkness veiling Luo Ling rippled like waves, but his words remained calm—coldly venomous.
"Impudent brat! You dare slander my Clear Sky Sect!" Tang Hao roared. That accusation was intolerable. The sect had already sealed itself from the world.
If the image of the sect turned into that of secret murderers, the entire continent's powers would unite in condemnation.
Unfazed by Tang Hao's fury, Luo Ling pressed on.
"Oh, right. If I remember correctly, the Clear Sky Douluo was expelled from the sect years ago, wasn't he?"
"Perhaps the sect planned it that way—banishing you publicly while secretly sending you to assassinate other clans' prodigies."
His tone shifted, as if a revelation had struck him.
He watched Tang Hao closely. The man's expression stayed guarded—he wouldn't acknowledge or deny it.
Good. That was exactly what Luo Ling wanted.
If Tang Hao refused to explain his true reason for attacking, the insinuation would stand.
Among so many witnesses, every whisper of rumor would spread like wildfire.
To protect his son's secret, Tang Hao would have to bear the slander in silence.
Countless noble factions had gathered tonight—each had lost prodigies suddenly, mysteriously.
Tang Hao's silence would be taken as guilt.
Of course, some might question why a Titled Douluo would attack in public, but Luo Ling didn't need the story to make perfect sense.
The masses thrived on rumor, not truth.
Once the seed of doubt was planted, the stain would stick forever.
Tang Hao could rage—but he could not undo the damage.
For Luo Ling, manipulating such a brute was effortless.
(END CHAPTER)
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