Chapter 155: Victory
Du Weilun revealed his full soul ring configuration—two yellow, two purple, four black, a complete set of eight rings. The overwhelming presence of a Soul Douluo swept across the entire arena in an instant. Without the slightest hesitation, he charged toward the center of the stage—the exact point where the two martial soul fusion techniques were about to collide, and also the optimal position to defuse the crisis and determine the victor.
He intended to use his own body to simultaneously bear the full-force attacks of both sides.
With himself as the measuring stick—whose soul skill was stronger, who had the upper hand—it would all become crystal clear in what he endured.
On the elevated platform, most of the teachers had yet to recover their wits. But Yan Shaozhe, seated in the front row, and Elder Xuan, tucked away in a corner, almost simultaneously felt their pupils constrict sharply—
Du Weilun's body had turned golden.
It was a pure, condensed, resplendent golden light, like a statue cast from molten gold, standing proudly and unyieldingly at the very center of two rampaging torrents of soul power. The clothing over his chest had already been torn to shreds, yet no blood seeped out. But on his back, the robes had been ripped apart by a single strike of the Netherworld White Tiger's claw, laying bare his solid, muscular back—and five shocking, ghastly trails of blood now stood starkly upon it.
A moment later, Du Weilun's breathing steadied slightly, but he still couldn't hold it back—a mouthful of dark blood splattered onto the ground.
A deathly silence fell over the entire arena.
An eight-ring Soul Douluo... injured?
Injured at the hands of a few freshmen who were, at most, three-ring?
How was this possible?
The teachers gradually roused themselves from their shock, one after another staring wide-eyed and speechless for a long, long moment. Down on the assessment field, the golden hue across Du Weilun's body slowly faded, yet the shock and utter disbelief lingering on his face refused to dissipate. His gaze flickered, fixed steadily on Huo Yuhao and Wang Dong, who had already released each other and were now standing side by side opposite him.
Even as a Soul Douluo, he could scarcely believe that what had just happened was real. Yet the searing pain across his back and the residual taste of blood at the corner of his lips were brutally reminding him—what had transpired just now was absolutely, unequivocally true.
Dai Huabin had only barely managed to struggle to his feet, supporting the utterly drained Zhu Lu as he rose. Although they had finally succeeded in executing Netherworld White Tiger, the cost to both of them had simply been far too immense.
Cui Yajie, unable to contain her excitement, ran over to Dai Huabin's side and said, "That was incredible... Did we win?"
On Huo Yuhao's side, Wang Dong spoke up and asked, "We won, right?"
He refused to believe their martial soul fusion technique could possibly lose to Dai Huabin's.
Huo Yuhao nodded silently. It was their side that had won.
In his spiritual perception, Du Weilun's protective soul power barrier had, without question, been utterly crushed by the Path of Gold—in that instant, it had even very nearly wounded his very foundation.
If not for the fact that Wang Dong's soul power was still somewhat lacking, preventing the Path of Gold's might from sustaining longer and erupting with even greater force, the injuries Du Weilun sustained would have been far from this.
Up in the stands, Furina leaned back lazily in her chair, understanding everything perfectly. Was there even any need to watch? No matter how imposing the Netherworld White Tiger was, it could never compare to the Path of Gold wielded by those two "cheaters," Huo Yuhao and Wang Dong.
Besides, the intimacy between Dai Huabin and Zhu Lu was inherently limited; they had never been able to bring out the true power of the Netherworld White Tiger in the first place. Their loss was only a matter of time.
Du Weilun was, after all, a Director of Instruction who had weathered great storms and waves. After that brief lapse in composure, he had already swiftly reined in his thoughts, a rueful smile surfacing on his face.
What a loss of face today. A truly colossal loss of face.
"Very good. You have all performed exceedingly well."
He cleared his throat, his tone recovering its steadiness. The students on both sides immediately held their breath and focused, all eyes converging on him.
Du Weilun's voice was even, yet every word was lucid and distinct: "I am astonished. As freshmen, your cultivation has reached such a level, and both teams have successfully executed martial soul fusion techniques. And I have personally experienced the intensity of both of your ultimate skills."
He paused, then declared in a heavy, resounding voice: "Now, I shall announce the ultimate champion of this year's freshman assessment elimination tournament. They are—"
His right arm abruptly lifted, his fingertip pointing decisively toward Huo Yuhao's trio, his voice suddenly rising: "The team of Wang Dong, Xiao Xiao, and Huo Yuhao!"
BOOM—
The entire venue erupted in an uproar.
Even the teachers on the high platform couldn't hide their astonishment. In their view, it was clearly Dai Huabin's Netherworld White Tiger that had wounded Du Weilun. How could Huo Yuhao's team be the winners?
For a fleeting moment, an ugly thought even flashed through some minds: Could it be that Director Du, humiliated by what just happened, is using his position to settle a personal score?
But the thought was instantly suppressed.
Dean Yan was present. Elder Xuan was present. How could Du Weilun dare—how could he possibly—show favoritism on such an occasion?
Moreover, Du Weilun had presided over the Office of Instruction for many years, renowned for his fairness, integrity, and strict impartiality. He had never once slipped.
Wang Dong was still in a daze and murmured quietly: "We... we really won?"
Huo Yuhao nodded heavily, his gaze unwavering and certain: "Of course. No matter how you look at it, this victory belongs to us."
He paused, the corner of his eye sweeping toward the rigid, frozen figure of Dai Huabin not far away. His tone was flat: "They couldn't have won."
Dai Huabin clenched his fists so fiercely that his knuckles turned white. He refused to believe it.
How could his Netherworld White Tiger lose to a third-rate martial soul fusion technique like Huo Yuhao's?
On top of that, it was clearly his and Zhu Lu's attack that had left bloody gashes on Du Weilun's body, while Huo Yuhao's side had left nothing at all!
Zhu Lu, forcing herself upright through her weakness, spoke with a voice that couldn't suppress its unwillingness: "Director Du... How could it be them who won? It was clearly us who..."
Du Weilun turned around. His gaze swept calmly over the three, his tone not harsh, yet heavy with weight: "Are you questioning my judgment?"
Inwardly, he was thoroughly exasperated—losing face was one thing, but now he had to personally dissect the entire humiliating process from start to finish and lay it bare for everyone to hear. These little brats truly gave him no peace of mind.
But Du Weilun was Du Weilun after all. After a brief moment of frustration, he had already adjusted himself. The corner of his lips even tugged into a helpless smile.
"I must admit—you are all extraordinarily outstanding. And you caused me... no small amount of embarrassment today. It was I who underestimated the power of your martial soul fusion techniques. No one else is to blame. Since you've all just been treated to the sight of my bare back, I won't be charging any viewing fees for it."
At these words, a ripple of chuckles immediately broke out across the high platform. One had to admit, Du Weilun's self-deprecation and open-mindedness instead earned him the quiet admiration of the teachers present. Placed in the same situation, how many of them could defuse the embarrassment with such composure?
Du Weilun withdrew his smile and continued with a solemn expression: "I know that if I don't explain clearly, it's only natural for doubts to linger in everyone's minds. First, let me reiterate that the verdict just now was without error—the ultimate champions are indeed the team of Wang Dong, Xiao Xiao, and Huo Yuhao. With their stunning, unparalleled performance, they have won this final match. This championship—they are wholly deserving of it."
This resolute and decisive repetition caused the expressions on Dai Huabin's trio to grow even more unsightly.
Du Weilun continued: "The situation just now was witnessed by everyone with their own eyes. As an instructor, I had no choice but to prevent outstanding freshmen such as these from suffering casualties in what was merely a sparring match. Both sides unleashed their martial soul fusion techniques. Relying purely on visual observation—frankly, even the Dean himself would likely struggle to accurately judge which was stronger in that split-second flash of lightning. Therefore, I used my own body as the test."
His gaze swept across the entire arena: "I am aware that many present saw me wounded by Dai Huabin and Zhu Lu's Netherworld White Tiger and assumed they were the victors. Then allow me to ask everyone a question—as a Soul Douluo, is my defensive capability truly so utterly pitiful?"
His voice was calm, yet carried a hidden edge: "No matter how gifted they are, in the end, we're speaking of a fusion between an ordinary three-ring Soul Elder and a two-ring Soul Grandmaster. If, while actively reinforcing my body with soul power, I could be so easily and heavily wounded by soul skills of such cultivation levels, then I might as well relinquish my seat as Director of Instruction."
The fury and unwillingness in Dai Huabin's eyes, after hearing these words, finally began to cool.
He was right... Du Weilun was not wrong. He was an eight-ring Soul Douluo. Could his and Zhu Lu's Netherworld White Tiger truly have injured him to this extent?
The very notion itself defied all logic.
Seeing the shift in Dai Huabin's expression, Du Weilun softened his tone somewhat: "By this point, everyone should already be able to guess the truth. Yes—the reason Netherworld White Tiger was able to wound me is that, prior to that, I had taken the full brunt of another attack head-on."
He turned toward Huo Yuhao and Wang Dong, his gaze carrying candid respect: "Wang Dong, Huo Yuhao—I still don't know the name of your martial soul fusion technique. As the first person to personally experience its power, I believe I have the right to know its name?"
Wang Dong smiled lightly, a bright, boyish confidence in his brows: "Teacher Du, you are indeed the first person to withstand our fusion technique. This is also the first time we've used it in formal combat since successfully testing it out."
Surprise flickered through Du Weilun's eyes, followed by an even deeper curiosity: "Then I am honored. So, what is its name?"
Wang Dong tilted his head to look at Huo Yuhao.
Huo Yuhao's gaze traveled past the crowd and settled upon the pale, grim face of Dai Huabin in the distance. His voice was steady and clear: "Path of Gold."
Du Weilun silently repeated the name twice, then slowly nodded: "I must admit, your martial soul fusion technique is the most... unique I have ever witnessed. At your current level of cultivation, to be able to unleash such might—it has surpassed everything I previously understood about martial soul fusion techniques. The compatibility between the two of you must be extraordinarily high."
Within Huo Yuhao's spiritual sea, Tianmeng flopped lazily onto his other side and scoffed: "No kidding! How could it not be high? Huo Yuhao and that little lass—er, that little fellow Wang Dong—their martial soul compatibility is a solid one hundred percent. Unprecedented in all of history, and unlikely to ever be seen again. Where on earth are you supposed to find another pair like that?"
Du Weilun redirected his attention back to Dai Huabin's trio, his tone even and fair: "The reason your Netherworld White Tiger was able to wound me boils down to one thing: before your attack reached me, I had already been struck by the Path of Gold. Only then did your attack land."
"The effects of a martial soul fusion technique have always been among the most tightly guarded secrets of their wielders. What I can say ends here. But the Dean is also present. I am certain that in that very instant when I was simultaneously struck by both soul skills, he was already able to discern, through the subtle differences in soul power fluctuations, which one was superior and which inferior."
He paused briefly, his tone carrying no reproach, merely stating the facts: "Your Netherworld White Tiger is indeed very powerful. If, in the clash just now, you had been able to evade the direct edge of the Path of Gold in time, you may not have been without a chance of victory. But at that moment, your mind was unsettled. Both sides activated their fusion techniques far too quickly, and it was practically a straight-line collision—there was no room to dodge. And so, you lost."
Dai Huabin fell silent.
He understood. Every single word, he understood.
But understanding was one thing—accepting it was another.
How could he possibly lose to Huo Yuhao? That wretched bastard who, in the Duke's Manor, was worth less than even a dog?
"Huo Yuhao!" He suddenly raised his hand and pointed directly at his opponent. His eyes were reddening, his voice nearly a hoarse roar.
The corner of Huo Yuhao's lips lifted slightly. His expression remained utterly composed: "What's the matter? Still unwilling to admit defeat?"
Dai Huabin was beside himself with fury: "Of course I won't! How could I possibly lose to worthless trash like you?! I refuse to accept this! I want another match!"
Huo Yuhao's smile didn't waver, but a touch of coldness crept into his eyes: "Fine. No day is better than today. Right now. Old grudges or the matter of victory—let's settle it all at once."
He paused, his voice low but every word distinct: "If you lose, from this day forward, whenever you see me, you shall address me as 'Lord Huo Yuhao'—nothing more than for one year. If I lose, I'll kneel on the spot, bark like a dog, and submit to whatever you desire. How about it? Dare you accept?"
Dai Huabin let out a cold snort: "Why wouldn't I dare?! How do we fight?"
Huo Yuhao said flatly: "No soul skills. Only martial souls and soul power. A straightforward, head-on fight."
Zhu Lu's face clouded with worry, as if she wanted to speak.
But Dai Huabin paid her no mind whatsoever and answered with absolute finality: "Fine!"
Huo Yuhao retrieved a small bottle of pills from his chest and casually tossed it over: "Healing medicine. Take them before we fight."
Dai Huabin caught it, glanced at it without a care, and tossed it aside.
"I don't need it."
Huo Yuhao shook his head, his tone utterly devoid of emotion: "As you wish. Just don't try to renege on the terms after you lose."
Dai Huabin gritted his teeth: "Cut the nonsense and start!"
No sooner had the words left his mouth than the White Tiger martial soul instantly fused with his body. Dai Huabin lunged forward like a tiger descending the mountain, charging straight at Huo Yuhao!
Huo Yuhao didn't even take a single step back.
In the vision of his Spirit Eyes, every motion of Dai Huabin—every exertion of force, every twitch of every muscle—was broken down with absolute clarity.
Huo Yuhao even felt that this duel was more tedious than he had anticipated.
He sidestepped, casually and effortlessly evading Dai Huabin's ferociously powerful punch, and followed through with a crisp hook, landing with pinpoint precision beneath the ribs.
"Urgh—!" Dai Huabin let out a muffled grunt, his body briefly stiffening.
Huo Yuhao gave him no chance to catch his breath. The second punch followed instantly, the angle cunning and vicious, the force dense and heavy.
A mere handful of seconds.
Dai Huabin crashed thunderously to the ground.
A profound silence reigned over the arena, both on and off the stage.
Huo Yuhao lowered his eyes and looked down at the figure sprawled on the ground. There was no mockery, no gloating. He simply stood there quietly, his gaze as tranquil as the still waters of a deep pool.
The sunlight fell upon his shoulders, outlining a silhouette that was silent, yet tall and unwavering.
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