The arena was silent.
A moment before, it had been a storm of forty-two separate, clashing auras. Now, it was a graveyard. The roar of a hundred thousand people was gone, sucked into a vacuum of stunned disbelief. They stared at the stage, at the sea of crimson vines, at the forty-two unconscious, vine-wrapped forms of the allied teams, and at the seven figures who stood in the center, their breathing not even heavy.
Zhang Tian stood over the broken form of Tang San. The crimson vines that had carpeted the entire stage slowly, silently, receded back into the stone, like a crimson tide pulling back from the shore, leaving only the wreckage behind. He calmly brushed a non-existent piece of dust from his shoulder.
Zhu Zhuqing, Ning Rongrong, and the rest of his team gathered behind him. They looked less like they had just survived a 7-on-42 battle and more like they had just finished a light, boring warm-up.
Together, they turned towards the imperial dais. In perfect, synchronized motion, they gave a respectful, elegant bow.
Zhang Tian's voice, amplified by his own spirit power, rang out, calm and clear, into the deafening silence.
"Your Majesty, we hope this demonstration was to your satisfaction. We hope the audience enjoyed the match, and now understands the true strength of your Heaven Dou Imperial Academy's Emperor Team."
The silence stretched for another second. And then, Emperor Xue Ye leaped to his feet.
His face was flushed with a joy so pure it was almost manic. He wasn't just an emperor; he was a fan who had just seen the impossible.
"Satisfaction?!" he roared, his voice booming across the plaza, "Young Zhang Tian, that was not a demonstration! That was a revelation! A glorious, glorious victory!"
The crowd, broken from their stupor by their Emperor's joy, finally exploded. The sound was a physical shockwave, a roar of a hundred thousand voices that shook the very foundations of the new colosseum.
"Emperor Team!"
"Zhang Tian!"
"Miracle! It was a miracle!"
The Emperor, brimming with a new, unshakeable confidence, turned to the entire arena. "Did you see it? Did everyone see it?! The future of our empire! The unrivaled champions!" He turned back to Zhang Tian, his eyes blazing. "With such power, with such genius, the Heaven Dou Imperial Academy is certain to win the championship of the Continental Tournament! Is that not so, Captain Zhang Tian?"
Zhang Tian just smiled, a polite, confident expression. "Your Majesty is wise. We will not disappoint."
"Wonderful! Wonderful!" Emperor Xue Ye was practically giddy with excitement. He felt a surge of generosity, of imperial largesse. "You have brought immense honor to my empire today! Ask for anything, young hero! Riches, a title, a swath of land! Name your reward!"
The crowd leaned in, holding its breath. What would he ask for? A duchy? A mountain of gold?
Zhang Tian considered this for a long, quiet moment. He looked at the adoring crowd, at the ecstatic Emperor. And then, he simply shook his head.
"Your Majesty's praise is reward enough," he said, his voice calm and humble. "We are merely doing our duty for the academy and the empire."
This gesture of "humility" sent the crowd into another frenzy. Not only was he powerful, he was noble!
The healers were now rushing the stage, a frantic army of white-robed Spirit Masters, their faces pale as they began the massive task of tending to the forty-two defeated students. Oscar, his spirit power drained but his consciousness returning, was weakly trying to help the healers get to Dai Mubai, who was still groaning on the ground.
Zhang Tian and his team turned to leave the stage, their victory absolute.
But then, Zhang Tian paused. He looked over his shoulder, his gaze landing on the broken, stirring form of Dai Mubai.
"Ah," he said, his voice casual, as if remembering a small, forgotten errand. "I almost forgot. Business to attend to."
He turned back. The crowd, the healers, the dais—everyone froze.
Oscar, who was helping Dai Mubai sit up, looked at Zhang Tian with wide, terrified eyes. "What… what business?"
Before anyone could react, before the Titled Douluo referee could even speak, a single, crimson vine, sharp as a surgeon's scalpel, erupted from the ground beside Dai Mubai.
It moved in a red flash, too fast for any eye to follow.
SHLICK.
The sound was small, almost inaudible in the vast arena.
The vine, its tip stained dark, slashed once, through Dai Mubai's crotch.
A spray of blood arced onto the white stone.
Oscar screamed, a high-pitched, terrified sound.
Dai Mubai's eyes went wide. He looked down. He saw the blood. A look of profound, confused shock washed over his face. And then, the agony hit.
He let out a choked, gurgling sound, a scream that was stolen from his lungs before it could even form. He collapsed, clutching himself, his body convulsing in the spreading pool of his own blood.
Zhang Tian raised a finger. A tiny, complex wisp of his own elemental power—a flicker of black fire, a shard of ice, and a crackle of violet lightning—flowed from his fingertip. It shot across the stage and sank into the open wound.
There was a sickening hiss as the wound was instantly cauterized by the conflicting energies, the flesh freezing, burning, and being shocked all at once.
The crowd let out a collective, horrified gasp.
"He… he…"
"Gods, he actually did it!"
The healers, who had been rushing forward, stopped dead, their faces ashen. They could feel the chaotic, destructive energy left behind in the wound. It was a curse. A mark of pure, conflicting power. It would never heal.
"BASTARD! YOU DARE?!"
Two roars of pure, unadulterated fury erupted from the main dais. The sound was a physical blow. Two immense pressures, one like a sorrowful, unshakeable mountain, the other like a raging, blue-purple thunderstorm, slammed down on the arena.
Tang Xiao and Yu Yuanzhen were on their feet, their Titled Douluo auras exploding outwards, their eyes blazing with murderous intent. The stone of the dais cracked beneath their feet.
Tang Xiao was livid. His sorrowful face was gone, replaced by a mask of rage. "ZHANG TIAN! You go too far! He is a defeated opponent! To cripple him like this is an act of cowardice, not victory! He is my nephew's friend!"
"This is an outrage!" Yu Yuanzhen bellowed, his own draconic aura making the air crackle, his voice shaking the entire colosseum. "You have stained the honor of this tournament! You must be punished for this! You think your Heaven Dou Imperial Academy can protect you from the wrath of two Upper Sects?!"
Zhang Tian didn't flinch. He didn't even look impressed. He turned to face the two furious Sect Leaders, his own Spirit King aura rising, a deep crimson sea pushing back against their pressure. It was like a single, sharp reef holding back a tidal wave.
"Punished?" his voice was cold, echoing with a faint, amused detachment. "For what? For fulfilling the terms of a bet he accepted?"
He gestured to the writhing form of Dai Mubai. "He staked his 'thing' against my life. He lost. I merely collected the payment. I think I was very fair. He keeps his life. I keep mine. He just... loses a bit of extra baggage."
He shrugged. "You should be grateful I was so... merciful."
"Impudent junior! You will pay for this!" Tang Xiao roared, preparing to descend from the dais.
"Gentlemen, please."
A new pressure, just as strong, but different—ancient, sharp, and cold—rose to meet them. Ning Fengzhi stood, his Nine Treasure Glaze Tile Pagoda glowing softly behind him. Beside him, Chen Xin, the Sword Douluo, and Gu Rong, the Bone Douluo, also rose.
The pressure of three more Titled Douluos, one of them a Hyper Douluo, met the other two. The air in the arena felt like solid stone, crushing the crowd into a terrified, breathless silence.
"Sect Leader Tang, Clan Leader Yu," Ning Fengzhi's voice was polite, but it held an edge of steel. "Calm yourselves. This is a tournament, not your personal hunting ground. Zhang Tian is correct. A bet was made, and a bet was accepted. Or," he added, his smile unwavering, "are you suggesting that the wagers of your two great sects are worthless?"
"You..." Yu Yuanzhen growled, his face turning a shade of purple.
"If you wish to pressure a junior," Chen Xin's voice rasped, his hand on the hilt of his unseen sword, his aura locking onto the two Sect Leaders. "You will have to go through me first. And I assure you... you will not enjoy it."
The stalemate was absolute. Tang Xiao and Yu Yuanzhen clenched their fists, their faces contorted with rage. They were outmatched. Their new elders were crippled, their sects in no condition for a direct war with the full, terrifying might of the Seven Treasure Glaze Tile Sect. They swallowed their words, their fury a bitter poison in their throats.
Zhang Tian looked at them, his eyes narrowing. He was annoyed. "You two," he said, his voice flat, "have threatened me. You have tried to use your status as seniors to pressure me. I do not like that. I feel... insulted."
His crimson vines, which had been receding, suddenly shot out. They snaked across the stage, past the healers, and wrapped around the unconscious, delicate form of Xiao Wu.
The crowd gasped again.
The vines lifted her from the ground, pulling her through the air to his side. He casually, almost dismissively, draped her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.
"As compensation for your rudeness," he announced to the stunned arena, "I will be taking her. Consider it... interest."
The arena was stunned into silence. He had crippled one student and abducted another, all in broad daylight, in front of the Emperor and the leaders of the great sects.
"You can't!" Tang Xiao roared, his composure finally breaking. "She is a student! An innocent!"
"Let her go!" Yu Yuanzhen bellowed.
But they were powerless. They could not risk a war.
From his hidden tower, Tang Hao froze. His heart stopped.
'Xiao Wu! He took Xiao Wu! He took her!'
His mind was a storm of pure, unadulterated panic. 'Does he know? Does he know what she is?' He scanned Zhang Tian, his spiritual sense a frantic, probing thing.
He saw nothing. He felt nothing.
'No… he can't know. Not even my brother or Yu Yuanzhen, two Super Douluos, could sense her aura. The herb I gave her… it's flawless. It's working. He can't know.'
A new, agonizing realization dawned on him.
'He's doing it to hurt Xiao San. He knows she is my son's heart, his only weakness. He's taking her to inflict emotional torture. That... that bastard.' His killing intent flared, a cold, dark thing, but he forced it down. He could not reveal himself. Not yet.
The Shrek team, their bodies being tended to by the frantic healers, remained unconscious. They were oblivious to the fact that their teammate, their friend, had just been abducted as a spoil of war.
As the Emperor Team walked off the stage, Zhang Tian carrying Xiao Wu over his shoulder, Zhu Zhuqing gave him a sidelong, analytical glance. Her face was impassive, but her mind was working.
'Xiao Wu? Why her? She's weak. Annoying. He has shown no interest in her. Is he… taken with her beauty? No... that's not his style.'
Ning Rongrong was, as usual, more direct. As they entered the private passage leading away from the arena, she skipped up to his side, her voice a low, concerned whisper.
"Husband? Why are you taking her?" she asked, her brow furrowed. "She's Tang San's girl. It's… messy. Do you like her or something? Is she going to be... one of us?"
Zhang Tian just chuckled, shifting Xiao Wu's weight on his shoulder. "Like her? Don't be silly, Rongrong. You and Zhuqing are all I need."
"Then why?" she pressed.
"Let's just say," he said, a strange, analytical light in his eyes, "she's a specific… curiosity. A point of leverage against Tang San, yes. But also… I have some questions for her. About her spirit."
The girls exchanged a look. They knew that couldn't be the whole truth. He had never shown an ounce of interest in Xiao Wu.
'Then there must be another reason,' Zhu Zhuqing concluded silently. 'A reason he cannot say publicly. Something to do with her spirit, perhaps? That strange, boneless-looking rabbit?'
And indeed, there was. Zhang Tian carried the unconscious form of Xiao Wu, his mind a cold, analytical engine. He felt it when his vine first touched her. The dormant, immense power sleeping within her. A power signature that felt ancient, old, and utterly unlike her Level 39 rank.
He knew, from his memories, exactly what she was.
'She is a test subject of unparalleled value,' he thought, his mind racing with excitement. 'Her cultivation is at Level 39. Soon, she will need her fourth ring. And as a transformed 100,000-year-old spirit beast, she will not hunt for it. She will create it. Her spirit origin will condense it from nothing.'
This was the key.
'I must witness this process. I must study her. She is the living, breathing blueprint for my artificial spirit ring research.'
The excuse he gave to Tang Xiao and Yu Yuanzhen… it was just a perfect, convenient lie.
~~
A/N: Check out my new fanfic - Doupo: Plundering the Plot with God-Tier Comprehension (A BTTH Fanfic)