The raw, desperate plea hung in the quiet, moonlit air of the pavilion, a sound of such profound, naked vulnerability that it seemed to make the very stars hold their breath. Qian Renxue, the divine, untouchable Young Miss of the Spirit Hall, was asking him for help.
Zhang Tian looked at her, at the beautiful, powerful, and so obviously broken woman who sat before him. The crazed, obsessive light in her eyes had softened, replaced by a desperate, pleading hope. He had been expecting this. Her pride was a fortress, yes. But her pain was a battering ram that had been hammering against its walls for her entire life. Sooner or later, the walls had to crumble.
He let the silence stretch for a long, deliberate moment, allowing her to sit with the weight of her own vulnerability. Finally, a slow, almost gentle smile touched his lips.
"I can," he said, his voice a calm, simple statement of fact that was more reassuring than any grand promise.
A brilliant, radiant wave of pure, unadulterated relief washed over her face. The tension in her shoulders, a tension she had likely carried for twelve long years, seemed to melt away.
"But," he added, his tone turning serious, "you must understand what you are asking. To find the root of such a deep, abiding hatred, I will need everything. Every memory. Every detail. From your earliest childhood to the day your father died. You will have to revisit places in your mind that you have long since buried. You will have to face the pain that you have been running from for your entire life."
He looked at her, his blue eyes piercing, analytical. "The question is not whether I can do this. The question is, can you? Are you truly prepared to pay that price?"
She did not hesitate. The brief, fragile moment of vulnerability was gone, replaced once more by a fierce, unshakeable conviction.
"Yes," she said, her voice a low, firm sound that held not a hint of doubt. "I can do it. I will do whatever it takes."
She looked at him, and a flicker of her old, regal pride returned to her eyes. "And I do not expect you to do this for free, Zhang Tian. I am not asking for your charity. If you help me find the truth, I will give you a reward. Anything you desire, as long as it is within my power to provide."
Her voice took on a new, confident tone. "Do you desire a Spirit Bone? I have several in my personal collection, and I can acquire more from the Spirit Hall's treasury. Do you need a specific type of spirit beast hunted? My guardians can acquire it for you. Is there someone in this world you wish to see… removed? You need only say the name."
Her offer was a breathtaking display of the immense, casual power she wielded.
Zhang Tian just listened, a calm, thoughtful expression on his face. He thought for a moment, then gave a slow, deliberate nod.
"Very well," he said. "If you are offering, then there are two things I desire in return."
"Name them," she said, her voice a simple, direct command.
"First," he began, his voice a low, even sound, "I require information. I have read, in some very ancient, obscure texts, of a place called Sea God Island. A place where the legacy of the Sea God is said to be hidden. I want you to ask your grandfather, Qian Daoliu. With his vast experience and his long life, he may know of its location. I require its exact coordinates, and a method to get there safely. A specialized ship, perhaps, or a secret route that can traverse the dangerous, monster-infested waters of the great ocean."
Qian Renxue frowned, a flicker of genuine confusion in her violet eyes. 'Sea God Island?' she thought. 'I have never heard of such a place. Is it a real location? Or just a myth from some forgotten age?'
But she did not question him. "My grandfather has indeed traveled the world more extensively than any man alive," she said, her voice a thoughtful murmur. "If such a place exists, he will know of it. I will ask him. Consider it done."
"Good," Zhang Tian said with a nod. "My second request is a simpler one. I require spirit tools. Not the common, storage-type ones. I am interested in any and all offensive, defensive, or support-type spirit tools that the Spirit Hall has in its possession. Even the old, weak, or seemingly useless ones. I am a researcher at heart. I wish to study their construction, to understand their principles."
This second request was even stranger than the first. The Spirit Hall's collection of ancient, non-storage spirit tools was a vast, forgotten treasure trove of failed experiments and outdated curiosities. They had no practical use in the modern world. But again, she did not question his motives.
"That can also be arranged," she said with a dismissive wave of her hand. "Our treasury is filled with such trinkets. You may have as many as you wish."
"Then our deal is struck," he said with a satisfied smile.
He then leaned back, a casual, almost offhand expression on his face, as if he were simply changing the topic to a more pleasant, less intense one.
"So," he began, his voice a light, conversational tone, "speaking of difficult tasks, have your Spirit Hall members had any luck in tracking down our mutual friend? Has Tang Hao's trail been found?"
Qian Renxue's expression immediately hardened, the brief, hopeful warmth in her eyes replaced once more by a cold, furious fire. She let out a short, angry hiss, the sound like the striking of a match.
"No," she snarled, the name of her father's killer a poison on her tongue. "That slippery bastard… he has vanished without a trace. It is as if he is a ghost. He struck our remote branches, caused so much chaos, and then has disappeared into thin air like the coward he is. We have no leads. No idea where he is hiding."
Zhang Tian just took a slow, deliberate sip of his tea. "Well," he said, his voice a low, amused murmur, "in that regard, perhaps I can be of some assistance."
He looked at her, and his eyes were gleaming with a dark, knowing light.
"After all," he said, a slow, predatory smile spreading across his lips, "Tang Hao is quite close by."
Qian Renxue froze, the teacup in her hand halfway to her lips. She stared at him, her violet eyes wide with a mixture of pure, unadulterated shock and a dawning, brilliant hope.
"What did you say?" she breathed, her voice a choked, disbelieving whisper.
She was on her feet in an instant, her calm, regal composure completely gone, replaced by the raw, desperate energy of a hunter who has just caught the scent of her most hated prey.
"Are you serious?!" she demanded, her voice a high, sharp sound. "You know where he is?!"
Zhang Tian simply nodded, a calm, unhurried gesture that was a stark, maddening contrast to the frantic, hopeful storm that was raging in her heart.
"I do," he confirmed. He took another slow sip of his tea. "He is hiding somewhere near the new Shrek Academy."
He saw the confusion in her eyes and decided to elaborate. "You recall, in our previous meeting, I informed you that the boy, Tang San, a student of the Shrek Academy, is Tang Hao's son?"
She nodded, her gaze intense, unwavering.
"Well," he continued, his voice a calm, logical lecture, "a man like Tang Hao, a man who has lost everything, a man who is consumed by his grief and his rage… he has only one thing left in this world to protect. His son. If he is not out there, actively causing chaos, then there is only one place he would be. Near his son. Protecting him from the shadows."
He then delivered the final, irrefutable piece of evidence. "And my theory was confirmed. More than a bit more than two months ago, my Grandpa Sword detected the presence of a powerful Super Douluo with a heavy killing intent, following the Vice-Dean of Shrek Academy a few weeks ago. The description… it fits Tang Hao perfectly. He is there. I am certain of it."
Qian Renxue just stared at him, her mind reeling, a brilliant, triumphant, and utterly, completely, and terrifyingly vengeful light igniting in her violet eyes.
"I will send a message," she hissed, her voice a low, dangerous sound. "Tonight. I will send a message to my grandfather. I will request that he dispatch one of the Grand Elders. We will hunt this bastard down. And we will make him pay for what he did to my father!"
Zhang Tian just nodded. "A prudent decision. But," he added, his tone a word of calm, professional caution, "you must be careful. Tang Hao is not a common opponent."
He began to analyze her enemy for her, his voice a cool, dispassionate assessment of a threat.
"His strength is far greater than his rank would suggest. He possesses the Clear Sky Sect's most powerful secret techniques, a series of self-created spirit skills that can dramatically amplify his combat power. From what Grandpa Sword said, he should be at the level of a ninety-fifth or ninety-sixth rank Super Douluo by now. He possesses a hundred-thousand-year-old spirit ring. And his Clear Sky Hammer is a top-tier tool spirit, a thing of pure, unadulterated destructive power."
He looked at her, his expression serious. "He is a man who was able to fight evenly with your own father when he was a new Titled Douluo. Now, with his increased rank and his rage as a fuel… his raw combat power can likely match that of a Level 97 Super Douluo. To defeat him easily, to ensure a clean, decisive victory with no chance of escape… you will need an expert of at least the ninety-eighth rank. A true Hyper Douluo."
Qian Renxue listened, her initial, fiery excitement cooling into a cold, hard, and incredibly focused resolve. She processed his analysis, her own brilliant, strategic mind already formulating a plan.
'He is right,' she thought. 'Uncle She and Uncle Ci are not enough. Even the other, stronger elders might struggle against him. To ensure an absolute, unquestionable victory…'
Her mind settled on a single, powerful name.
"I will have to ask Grandfather to send the Second Enshrinement," she concluded. "The Golden Crocodile Douluo. He is the only Level 98 Hyper Douluo in the Elder Hall. He is the only one, other than Grandfather himself, who can guarantee a swift, clean kill."
Zhang Tian watched her, a faint, almost pitying smile on his lips. "Your fate is truly an enviable one, Renxue," he said, his voice a low, wry murmur. "To have so many choices. To be able to pick and choose from a roster of Super Douluos, from Level 96 all the way to Level 99, as if you were choosing a simple tool from a box. It is… a level of luxury that the rest of the world can only dream of."
Qian Renxue just chuckled, a soft, musical sound that was a mixture of pride and a new, strange, and surprisingly pleasant warmth.
She sat back down, her earlier, vengeful fire now banked, replaced by a calm, focused anticipation. "Well then," she said, her voice a low, intimate murmur. "Let us begin. You may ask me any question you wish."
He nodded. "Very well." He looked at her, his gaze direct and piercing. "My first question is a simple one. What is your mother's name?"
Qian Renxue had known this would be his first question. She had prepared for it. But still, the name was a stone in her throat, a weight on her soul. She took a deep, steadying breath and lowered her head, her golden hair a curtain that hid her pained expression.
"Her name," she whispered, the word a bitter, resentful sound, "is Bibi Dong. The current Supreme Pontiff of the Spirit Hall."
Zhang Tian just nodded, his expression unreadable. "I see. And my next question is this: what was your mother's attitude towards your father, Qian Xunji, before his death? I know that she was his student. Such a romance, between a teacher and his disciple, can be considered a taboo in many circles. Perhaps there is something we can glean from the nature of their relationship."
Qian Renxue looked up, a flicker of genuine, profound surprise in her violet eyes. She had thought of her parents' relationship a thousand times. But she had never, ever, considered it from that perspective.
In her mind, it had always been a simple, if painful, equation. Bibi Dong was her mother. Qian Xunji was her father. And her mother hated her father. It was a fact of her life, a fundamental, unchangeable truth that she had never thought to question.
"I… I had never thought of it like that," she admitted, her voice a low, thoughtful murmur.
She looked at him, and for the first time, she was not looking at a handsome boy, or a political rival, or a potential subordinate. She was looking at a mind that saw the world in a way that she could not. A mind that saw the hidden threads, the secret patterns, the deep, underlying currents that drove the actions of gods and men.
"But you are right," she said, her voice a low, bitter sound as she revisited the painful, half-forgotten memories of her childhood. "Their relationship… it was not a good one. She… she hated him. Truly, deeply hated him. To the point that she would snarl at the very sight of him."