He coughed blood again, his face ashen.
"It is your responsibility… to protect the clan. From this moment… you are the acting Clan Leader."
Even amidst battle, all the Titled Douluos nearby turned their sharp gazes to Tang Xiao. They had all heard it clearly. The declaration carried the weight of a dying man's final will.
Tang Xiao's face hardened, his expression grim and unreadable. His fists clenched around the haft of his hammer. For a brief moment, his eyes flickered with something—anger, hesitation, or perhaps calculation—but it vanished as quickly as it came.
He turned and gestured. Members of the clan rushed forward to lift Tang Zhan away from the battlefield. Tang Xiao stood tall, the mantle of leadership suddenly heavy on his shoulders.
The Clear Sky disciples, though bloodied and weary, straightened at once, their gazes burning with expectation. They awaited his next command.
Even the enemies paused briefly. Bibi Dong's eyes narrowed, curious. Sacred Dragon Douluo licked his lips, amused. Fifteen Ton Douluo sneered. Golden Crocodile Douluo simply watched in silence, the shadow of a smile tugging at his lips.
When Tang Xiao began to walk, no one moved to stop him. His steps were heavy, each one echoing like the toll of a funeral bell. Everyone understood the direction he was headed—toward the strongest person on this battlefield, Golden Crocodile Douluo.
The battlefield quieted in patches as eyes turned to him. Bloodied disciples looked up with trembling gazes; even the Titled Douluo paused briefly to see what the young heir of the Clear Sky Clan dared to do.
Standing before the towering figure of Golden Crocodile Douluo, Tang Xiao's frame looked small, almost fragile, but his gaze did not waver.
Golden Crocodile Douluo's voice rumbled like thunder, deep and oppressive.
"Want to say something, brat?"
Tang Xiao took in a steady breath. His voice, though strained, carried across the rain-soaked battlefield.
"You know… I have long heard about the friendship between my grandfather, Tang Chen, and the Peerless Douluo, Qian Daoliu. The promise that—"
Golden Crocodile cut him off, his words like a hammer striking iron.
"The promise was that he himself would never attack."
Tang Xiao lowered his head slightly in acknowledgment.
"Yes, Senior."
Then, without hesitation, he fell to his knees before the Spirit Hall's Supreme Elder. Mud splashed against his robes, rain plastering his hair to his face. The proud son of the Clear Sky Clan, kneeling in the open, was a sight none had ever thought they would witness.
"My brother Tang Hao mistakenly injured the Pope heavily. But he would have never thought that the Pope… would die."
At those words, Golden Crocodile Douluo's eyes flickered. The truth was that Qian Xunji was not truly dead, which was something only a select few within Spirit Hall knew.
Tang Xiao continued, his tone gaining a desperate strength.
"Tang Hao, my brother, has already been exiled from the clan for his mistake. Our Second Elder is gravely wounded, poisoned beyond what we can heal. And my father, who has long suffered from heart disease, now lies injured as well. As for our disciples—" his voice cracked slightly, but he pressed on, "—their casualties still need to be counted."
Raising his head, Tang Xiao's voice rang with restrained fury and sorrow.
"Is Spirit Hall still not satisfied?!"
The words shook the battlefield. The disciples of the Clear Sky Clan clenched their fists, tears streaming as they heard their acting Sect Master voice their despair.
Then came the declaration, as if carved from stone:
"The Clear Sky Clan will close its doors and migrate to the ancestral lands!"
A wave of cries erupted:
"Clan Leader Tang Xiao!"
"Young Clan Leader!"
The loudest among them were from the subsidiary clans, their voices breaking with fear. For them, the retreat of the Clear Sky Clan meant the loss of their shield. Without the sect's protection, they would be exposed to the claws of Spirit Hall.
Golden Crocodile Douluo's eyes narrowed as his voice pressed down like a mountain.
"Leader of the Clear Sky Clan… will you close your doors and migrate to the ancestral lands?"
Tang Xiao straightened his back even while kneeling, his voice unwavering.
"Yes!"
Among the Clear Sky Clan, many disciples looked unwilling, their eyes red with anger and humiliation. But the elders and Titled Douluo of the sect knew—there was no path forward. They were crushed, trapped, and to resist further would only lead to annihilation. None dared to interrupt Tang Xiao's decision.
For a long moment, silence reigned. The only sound was the pattering of rain and the low rumble of thunder. Tang Xiao's heart pounded in despair. He thought that if Golden Crocodile gave the order, they would all have to fight Spirit Hall until their very last breath.
But then, Golden Crocodile spoke. His voice, though not loud, carried into every ear on the battlefield.
"Stop, everyone."
The fighting ceased instantly. The command of a giant could not be disobeyed.
Golden Crocodile nodded slowly, as if remembering an old man's words. Qian Daoliu had told him not to push too far. For the sake of a promise, he would let them crawl back into their mountains.
Bibi Dong's lips curved into a cold smile. Her prestige had been carved and she would soon become the pope. And the Clear Sky Clan's Second Elder, crippled by her venom—would not live long enough.
As Golden Crocodile turned to leave, his words were like chains locking the clan's fate.
"Sixth, Seventh—see that they migrate properly."
Falling Devil Douluo and Fifteen Ton Douluo both answered sonorously, "Yes!"
Thunder cracked overhead.
Crackle!
Rain fell harder, as if heaven itself wept.
Tang Xiao remained kneeling, letting the rain wash his face. It mixed with the tears he refused to shed openly, carrying away the despair etched into his soul.