"The wind whirls through the setting sun; time flows swiftly westward. Prosperity never returns, and age overtakes me like a sudden blow."
—Cao Zhi, Konghou Elegy
…
Six years later.
Heaven Dou Empire.
Heaven Dou City.
The rear courtyard of the Crown Prince's Mansion—Scenic Pavilion.
It was noon. Sunlight streamed from above, filtering through the carved eaves of the pavilion roof, casting a dappled glow on a rustic wooden chessboard. The black and white pieces were laid out in intricate, tense formation.
Two men sat across from each other.
One of them, a black-haired youth, sat calmly with eyes full of focus. His short, dark hair swayed gently in the breeze, lending him an aura both mysterious and composed. He waited, full of quiet confidence, for his opponent to make the next move.
His opponent, a golden-haired youth, sat opposite him. Radiant golden hair shimmered under the sunlight like divine light, giving him a holy and noble appearance. His face bore a composed smile, eyes steady, his demeanor brimming with quiet charisma. Yet at this moment, he frowned deeply, racking his brain for a way out of the deadly trap laid before him.
A silent tension lingered between them, yet it was not hostile. Each chess piece that landed brought a soft click, echoing faintly through the still afternoon air.
"Sigh, I lost again. Brother Wu Tong, your skill at this game is still unmatched. This black-and-white chess you invented really isn't simple. I've studied it for so long and still only grasped the basics."
Unable to find a breakthrough, the golden-haired youth sighed and conceded.
"You're too modest, Brother Xue. Your skill is already excellent. You're just unfamiliar with the rules. Once you get used to them, you might end up surpassing me."
The black-haired youth, Wu Tong, responded with polite humility.
The golden-haired youth he addressed as Brother Xue was none other than Xue Qinghe—the Crown Prince of the Heaven Dou Empire.
And in truth, she was Qian Renxue—the daughter of Bibi Dong, the Pope of Spirit Hall; granddaughter of Qian Daoliu, one of the three Limit Douluo; and the current Holy Maiden of Spirit Hall.
As Qian Renxue looked at Wu Tong, she momentarily lost focus.
Even after six years, she still felt fortunate for having recruited him back then. The young prodigy who had once shaken the continent's powers had grown into a famed and respected strategist.
Noticing the distant look in her eyes, Wu Tong shook his head, lifted a cup of tea beside him, and took a sip.
Not bad. As expected of tea served in the Crown Prince's residence—it had a refined taste.
Though, oddly enough, the flavor reminded him of the tea from his own Wutong Courtyard.
Just as Wu Tong was puzzling over that, Qian Renxue returned to her senses and smiled teasingly.
"Master Wu Tong, your name is now known across the continent. What are your plans next?"
"Brother Xue, I've told you multiple times—don't call me 'Master.' That title always reminds me of that other 'Master.'"
Wu Tong sighed in mild annoyance, finally understanding the suffering of that chubby classmate of his.
"I guess I'll finally help Old Man Dugu resolve his clan's poison issue. He's come to me several times already."
Wu Tong rubbed his forehead, his voice tinged with helplessness.
"That makes sense. After all, the Poison Douluo's been asking you for help for five or six times now. If you keep putting it off, he might start throwing a tantrum again."
Qian Renxue didn't seem surprised.
Anyone who knew Wu Tong understood one thing—he would never start a new task before finishing the last one.
Unfortunately for Dugu Bo, every time he came to Wu Tong, the latter was in the middle of something.
Dugu Bo had exhausted every method, including some he probably shouldn't have tried, yet still failed to resolve the poison afflicting his clan. His final hope lay with Wu Tong.
But he didn't dare threaten Wu Tong.
Wu Tong was now someone whom the entire Douluo Continent owed favors to. If he so much as stubbed his toe, half the continent would be looking for someone to blame.
Dugu Bo wasn't afraid of those people.
But when it came to his granddaughter, Dugu Yan, he had no choice but to tread carefully.
So what could he do?
He couldn't win in a fight. So, he went for the only tactic left—shameless pestering.
Every time Dugu Bo came to find Wu Tong, he would throw a tantrum like a child, with not a trace of his dignity as a Titled Douluo. Over time, Wu Tong found him more and more of a headache.
As for whether Wu Tong could actually resolve a poison that even the Poison Douluo himself couldn't?
Qian Renxue could only think—those who doubted Wu Tong truly knew nothing about him.
Who was Wu Tong?
He was the Douluo Continent's acknowledged number one strategist, a renowned martial soul research master, and the Saint of Medicine.
Even her own teacher, Ning Fengzhi—famed for his discerning eye—had once praised him: "To gain Wu Tong is to gain the world."
Just as Qian Renxue was about to speak again, a guard suddenly appeared behind her and whispered something in her ear.
Her eyes widened instantly, as if she had heard something unbelievable.
"Brother Wu Tong, something urgent has come up. I'll take my leave first. Please make yourself at home."
With that, Qian Renxue left in a hurry.
Watching her rapidly retreating figure, Wu Tong was puzzled—but also a little dazed.
Had it really been… six years?
To Wu Tong, these six years had been filled with countless experiences.
After buying the soul tool, he had originally planned to keep laying low at Nuoding Academy. But when Wu Tu's group returned and confirmed that Mu Lan's martial soul had indeed strengthened—just as he had predicted—Wu Tong was elated.
Even though he was confident in his theory, like any true scholar, he knew that a single success meant little. Only repeated successful results could prove its correctness. Now that his martial soul evolution theory had essentially been validated, Wu Tong couldn't help but begin organizing and writing it down.
After several months of effort, he compiled the entire theory and planned to publish it after graduation, using it as leverage to establish his future authority.
But fate had other ideas.
During a break one day, Wu Tong left the manuscript out. It was discovered by Principal Charles, who had come to speak with him.
After reading it, Charles was astonished—he saw Wu Tong as a future version of his friend Yu Xiaogang, someone who, even with a trash martial soul, could become a master researcher.
Too excited, Charles impulsively submitted the manuscript to Martial Soul Monthly, the continent's most widely circulated publication, hoping to help his student gain recognition.
The editorial team barely paid it any attention. Submissions were endless, and the title alone made them laugh—it sounded like a fantasy story. Without thinking, they categorized it under the children's literature section and published it.
What followed was explosive.
The moment this "theory" hit the public, it was like blood thrown into a sea of sharks. Scholars, researchers, and martial soul enthusiasts across the continent swarmed toward the name "Wu Tong."
Once Wu Tong found out, it was too late.
He had no choice but to abandon his "stealth cultivation lifestyle" and quickly seek protection from a major power. Only three factions on the continent had the strength to shield someone like him: Spirit Hall, the Heaven Dou Empire, and the Star Luo Empire.
Spirit Hall was out of the question.
With Bibi Dong as the Pope and her lingering feelings for Yu Xiaogang, there was a very real chance she'd hate Wu Tong just for having a theory that could overshadow her old flame. Considering she might destroy the world for Yu Xiaogang, Wu Tong had no intention of ending up mysteriously "suicided" with eight stab wounds in the back.
Star Luo Empire was also a poor choice.
They valued strength above all. The law of the jungle reigned. Wu Tong, who had no real combat strength, would never be truly respected or protected there.
That left only one option—the Heaven Dou Empire.
It was the nearest, and its people came the fastest. And the one who arrived to recruit him, after reading his theory and taking deep interest in him, was none other than the Crown Prince of Heaven Dou—Xue Qinghe.
Wu Tong made his decision on the spot.
After all, the person standing before him was not just the Crown Prince of an empire, but also the Holy Maiden of Spirit Hall—Qian Renxue.
By accepting her offer, he would not only gain protection from the Heaven Dou Empire, but also indirectly step into Spirit Hall's upper echelon—fulfilling both safety and ambition in one move.
(End of Chapter)
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