An Arena Stilled by Fear
The entire arena roared—then hushed.
What they had just seen had shattered the very foundation of what they knew about soul masters.
Three purples. One black.
The configuration none believed possible stood glowing under Lu Yuan's unsteady feet. The audience who mocked him minutes ago now stared, jaws slack, hearts rattling. Even Davis, Tiandou's proud White Tiger prince, stumbled on shaky footing, pupils quivering.
How could this boy… this drunk… carry such rings?!
Zhu Zhuyun, cold sweat already drenching her back, hissed sharply to her partner. "Davis, Nether White Tiger!"
Davis clenched his fists. "Right!"
They surged together. Light exploded where their bodies merged, a violent roar splitting the air. In the center of the stage, a massive beast appeared—the Nether White Tiger, Star Luo's ultimate fusion technique.
The colossal tiger bellowed, claws tearing across the battle platform as it charged Lu Yuan.
The Drunk Handles a Tiger
"Tons… tons… ha!"
Lu Yuan tilted his jar mid-run, cheeks flushed. "What a big cat!"
In a blur, he skipped skyward like a drunken crane, dodging the beast's pounce. Without releasing the sword on his back, he reached down with both hands—
And grabbed the Nether White Tiger by the tail.
"Up you go!" he hiccuped.
Gasps ripped across the stands.
He whirled.
And whirled again.
And again.
The five-meter-tall apex predator—one of Star Luo's deadliest fusion spirits—spun like a top in his hands. The white body blurred in dizzying circles.
"Spin faster… faster…" Lu Yuan muttered, wine sloshing from his jar as he poured another sip mid-spin.
His team panicked instantly. They had deliberately stayed ten meters away, thinking it safe. They were wrong. If something entered his hazy eyes, it was automatically a "target."
Yu Tianheng's lips trembled. Even standing miles away feels like standing on the guillotine!
The referee's legs locked. Members of Xingluo's royal academy gaped, paling rapidly.
Even among the tens of thousands of spectators, terror spread like wildfire. At this throwing speed, where would Lu Yuan hurl the White Tiger? Into the ring? Into the stands? Over their heads?!
Suddenly, it wasn't just a match anymore. It was life and death.
Absolute Panic
Voices shrieked across the crowd.
"What kind of fight is this? This is a public execution!"
"If he lets go, who he hits doesn't just faint—they DIE!"
Hundreds of thousands of throats prayed, yet cursed in the same breath.
"Xingluo Royal Academy, you dogs!" someone shouted.
"For such an important match, why didn't you station high-level powerhouses?!"
"Yes! Watching a fight should not gamble with our lives!"
In the showers of angry curses, the audience collectively turned suspicion onto Star Luo itself.
Even noble sect experts shifted uneasily. If the beast was flung into their section, dignity wouldn't save them from becoming paste.
And so—everyone panicked.
Qin Ming, buried within the Tiandou seats, felt his bladder go weak. Why… why in all the heavens did I let him fight?!
Intervention
Finally, from above, a new aura shook the sky.
A figure in instructor's uniform descended through the air—a mighty Contra from Xingluo Academy.
"Boy, ENOUGH!"
Lu Yuan lifted his bleary eyes curiously. "You want it? Fine, it's yours!"
He released with a casual flick.
The Contra sputtered. One blink later—thud! The massive Nether White Tiger's bulk crashed into his arms like boulders, forcing him downward a few feet.
The veins across his temple popped. This—this monster truly was just a Soul Sect?! Catching that casually thrown fusion attack had rattled even his Contra-strength arms.
He silently thanked the heavens. If he hadn't intervened, if a weaker Saint or King had tried, casualties would have been gruesome beyond bearing.
Quickly, he separated Davis and Zhu Zhuyun, flinging their weakened bodies back onto the stage corner.
Vomit and Retreat
The fusion faded. Davis and Zhu Zhuyun tumbled to the stone floor, staggered on all fours. The world spun violently, and blood rose in their throats.
"Urgh—!"
Both vomited onto the stage.
The Star Luo audience's hearts plunged lower.
The five remaining teammates glanced at each other. Their faces drained of all color.
Continue? Against a monster like this? Insanity.
They practically quivered in place, unable to muster the will to move. This wasn't a duel anymore. This was watching a demon toy with mortals.
Lu Yuan staggered forward, jade jar raised high. "Oi, bastards. Why not save me the trouble? Jump off yourselves! Otherwise, I'll kick your asses down."
The opponents paled further, teetering at arena's edge. Behind him, even his own team flinched back instinctively.
The winner was already determined.
Aftermath
By the end, nobody spoke of Davis or Zhuyun, nor of the victory itself.
Everyone spoke of him.
The drunkard with a sword. The genius of Tiandou. The monster beyond comprehension.
Fear, awe, excitement—all labels now clung to the name Lu Yuan.
Retreat to Tiandou
By carriage, the Emperor Team left Xingluo. Qin Ming sat with sweat trickling down his neck, face pale even now. His heart still thudded from sheer panic.
Never, ever again would Lu Yuan step foot into a formal Soul Arena under his watch. If he could help it.
Already, reports trickled back. Zhu Zhuyun's ribs broken, Davis's organs damaged—serious, but survivable thanks to Contra's save. If not for that, Qin Ming knew, a royal bloodline might be buried today.
Casualties existed in Soul Fights, yes. But not royals. Never princes.
If Davis had died under his student's hand… the empire's wrath would have descended like thunder.
Worst of all, Lu Yuan's legend had now gone continental. Faster than wildfire, word spread across the Douluo lands. Sect recruiters, rival powers, and even Spirit Hall itself began whispering his name.
Meng Shenji's letter reached them swiftly: Return immediately. For safety. No delays.
On the Road Again
Lu Yuan drained another jar, content.
[Ding! Detected excessive alcohol. Fourth Spirit Ring +80 years]
He smacked his lips. "This wine's good! Ha! Better than the royal tribute I had."
"…Who even gave this to me?" he muttered between gulps.
Qin Ming shivered, looking away, coughing into his sleeve.
Don't look at me… don't remember it was me…
If Lu Yuan pressed more next time, how was he supposed to pay?
Beside him, Zhu Zhuqing sat quietly.
"Kitten," Lu Yuan slurred, nudging her arm, "come back to Tiandou with me. Soto City's dull. Birds won't even poop there. Just stay. We'll drink every day."
Zhu Zhuqing shook her head. Her voice was firm, but undertoned with soft reluctance. "I have things I must do in Soto City."
"…Fine." He shrugged, tipping his jar. "Don't force what can't be forced."
"The bastard driving upfront!" he yelled out suddenly, "Head for Soto City!"
Rose Hotel Encounter
By evening, they arrived in Soto.
Supported by Yan and Lingling, Lu Yuan pointed with blurry eyes at a grand building with ruby-red walls. Rose Hotel.
"Good enough! We'll live here today."
Entering the bright-lit lobby, murmurs immediately broke.
"Look—isn't that him?!"
"Lu Yuan… the drunk soul sect from Xingluo!"
"More handsome in person!"
His presence was undeniable. Everywhere, eyes followed the wine jar in his grip, the sword on his back. His reputation preceded him—even in foreign cities.
But as Lu Yuan glanced across the hall, his blurred eyes paused.
By the counter sat Dai Mubai, long golden hair spilling as four ostentatiously dressed women clung to his arms. He laughed lewdly, boasting shamelessly.
"Babes, today I caught a fat fish. No matter what, I'll keep my word to the end."
The women giggled, leaning close.
Lu Yuan squinted, recognition ghosting through his haze. Hmm? This guy seems familiar… important… Ah, forget it. I'll just go ask!
With a hiccup, he staggered toward them.
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