Chapter 149: The Scolded God King and the Desire That Breeds Chaos!
Tang San—the Sea God, Shura God, and now self-proclaimed God King of the Divine Realm—was just about to come up with an excuse.
He had planned to brush it off casually, telling Tang Wulin that the presence he sensed was simply the Golden Dragon King's remnant will trying to corrupt him.
But then he stopped himself.
If his son really believed that, everything he'd carefully taught him would unravel.
Wouldn't that be like smashing a rock onto his own foot?
No, that wouldn't do. He needed another story.
But there was only himself in Tang Wulin's spiritual sea. So what could he say?
As the so-called "God of Wisdom" racked his divine brain in haste, Tang Wulin blurted out his own theory.
"Old Tang, during yesterday's test, we ran into a ten-thousand-year Poison Miasma Jiao Dragon. None of us could land a strike, and then—out of nowhere—my Golden Night Dragon appeared and one-shotted the thing!"
"I still can't believe it. Even after all its strengthening from my Golden Dragon bloodline, it's only eight hundred years old—there's no way a soul spirit could kill a ten-thousand-year beast like that!"
"So, Old Tang… do you think maybe the Golden Dragon King possessed it?"
"Impossible!" Tang San cut him off instantly.
That seal was his own creation—woven using the collective power of the God Kings, splitting the Golden Dragon King's essence into eighteen pieces.
Even alive, the Golden Dragon King could never break through it.
And if not for the fact that the Golden Dragon King inherited the Dragon God's immortal body, he would've been obliterated long ago rather than imprisoned.
More importantly, the Golden Dragon King wasn't even rational!
He was pure madness—an instinct-driven beast, not a mind that could plan subtle moves like possession.
Even if he could take over the Golden Night Dragon, the first thing he'd do was drag Wulin to death with him.
His intellect was something Tang San utterly disdained.
The Silver Dragon King? Now she had inherited the Dragon God's wisdom—she was worth calling an adversary.
The Golden Dragon King? Just a brute!
If anything, Tang San should be thanking him for unwittingly providing his son such a divine opportunity.
A free step toward godhood—how very considerate.
"But still—"
"No 'but still.' Don't you trust me?"
There was no way anything could happen without his awareness. Certainly not inside his own son's consciousness.
He would never allow such a thing to be credited to the Golden Dragon King.
Otherwise, all his careful "guidance" of Tang Wulin would be for nothing—he'd be the punchline of his own story.
To calm his son, Tang San focused his perception on the sleeping Golden Night Dragon, still curled contentedly near the seal encasing the Golden Dragon King.
The little dragon's tail swayed lazily as if having the best nap of its life.
Tang San frowned, then reached down with divine precision and grabbed its tail.
Golden eyes cracked open, cold, ancient light flaring from their depths.
The tiny creature's claws twitched, motioning for Tang San to lean closer.
He hesitated—then obeyed, bending down.
The dragon opened its mouth, as though to speak something profound…
"Ah… ptui!"
Tang San: "???"
…What the hell!?
Before he could react, the dragon yawned and rolled over.
"Ugh, so tired…" it murmured sleepily.
Outside, under the scorching sun, the real world trudged on.
Xie Xie lay sprawled on the ground, glaring at the endless road ahead. He felt dead inside.
Even soul masters had their limits, and wandering aimlessly over sun-scorched plains doing nothing productive was beyond his tolerance.
The thought of more "field work" sent his mood plummeting.
Their instructor, Sima Jinchi, had briefly appeared that morning only to leave immediately after giving them a single, cryptic clue.
Since then, he'd vanished—appearing only at mealtime, like some mysterious spirit who existed purely for their stomachs.
"North corner of the Burning Plains—where the phoenix is reborn."
That was all he'd said.
Xie Xie groaned, massaging his head. "Burning Plains north corner? Phoenix rebirth? Does Phoenix Mountain even have such a place? The Federation's probably making stuff up."
If the Federation honestly knew where a phoenix was, why send students to find it?
Ridiculous!
"Does Douluo University just hate us or what?" he muttered.
No classes, no benefits—just endless, punishing tests. He was convinced someone up top had it out for them.
"The Burning Plains' northern corner is a volcanic plateau," Qian Gu Zhangting said, speaking up at last. "It might be where the Federation once found traces of phoenix activity. Maybe they're hoping we get lucky."
"Even if there isn't a real phoenix, as long as we find evidence of one there, we pass the trial."
That sparked a bit of life in Xie Xie. "So…you know the way?"
Zhangting shook his head. "No idea."
Xie Xie face-planted back into the dirt.
"…Great."
The others sighed.
The journey continued northward, guided only by the rising heat beneath their feet.
The name "Phoenix Mountain" itself was reason enough for hope. Zhangting remembered asking his grandfather once if phoenixes were real.
Even as heir to the Spirit Transmission Tower—someone who'd seen almost every soul beast imaginable—he'd never found any mention of a true phoenix.
Not even phoenix-blooded beasts were real; only myths remained.
Xie Xie rolled his eyes so hard they nearly stuck.
"So basically, we're just walking until we burn alive. Perfect plan."
Meanwhile, somewhere deep beneath Phoenix Mountain, faint and dark forces gathered.
"The aura of the Mystic Phoenix has vanished," hissed a voice cloaked in black. "The Federation's already onto us. If we delay further, we'll be exposed."
Another replied coldly, "Hmph. The Federation can't stop the Sacred Church's will. Whoever comes will leave buried here."
Few would have thought that beneath these quiet slopes, the Holy Spirit Cult had returned.
Among these evil soul masters hid shadows of immense power—people cunning enough to know their limits but ruthless enough to push them.
"Is the Wind Prison Array ready?" their leader whispered.
"Prepared, Lord. The phoenix won't escape this time."
"Good. Even if the Federation's drawn here by the commotion, they won't stop us."
He paused briefly, calculating. Then he gave the final order.
"Do it."
The phoenix was near—they could feel it. Success was within reach.
"This operation determines the Evil Emperor's resurrection. You all know what to do."
A few masked subordinates stepped forward, trembling as they accepted their mission—to lure out the phoenix itself.
"Go. The Sacred Church will remember your sacrifice."
In the face of such stakes, none dared object.
Capturing the phoenix was paramount, too vital to risk failure.
Why not other divine beasts, then?
Because the Ten Great Ferocious Beasts were off-limits.
Even the Holy Spirit Cult wasn't suicidal enough to provoke them—each one would remember a grudge for life.
The Church might crave power, but they weren't idiots.
And deep down, like ordinary soul masters, they too once dreamed of spirits—of soul spirits, those radiant entities that bound beast and human together.
But their path had diverged long ago.
Still, what they could never have… they always desired most.
"For the Holy Church," they chanted in unison.
And the shadows moved.
(END CHAPTER)
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