Douluo Continent: The Twin Holy Dragons of Light and Darkness, the Dragon Emperor Breaks Through the

"That's not necessarily true. Seven people against one, even a Soul King would have to think twice."

Tang Hao listened to these discussions without saying a word.

He was waiting, waiting for the person he wanted to see.

He didn't need to know where the Spirit Hall team was staying, or when their match was; he just needed to sit there and wait for them to walk past him.

At three quarters past Chen Shi (7:45 AM), the area outside the teahouse suddenly fell silent for a moment.

The silence was abrupt, as if someone had pressed the pause button, and all the noise, hawking, and arguing disappeared at the same moment.

Then, footsteps could be heard.

It wasn't just one person's footsteps; it was the footsteps of many.

Neat, composed, and powerful.

Tang Hao turned to look out the window.

The team uniforms were dark blue, with an embroidered badge on the chest featuring an intertwined angel and dragon.

Seven people, in a single file, led by a burly man in his mid-twenties, whose Iron-Spine Wolf martial spirit was stirring within him.

He took long strides, each step causing the ground to tremble slightly, but he deliberately restrained himself so as not to disturb the people on the street.

Behind him was a woman in red, with a firebird hopping on her shoulder. The temperature was perfectly controlled, and even the street vendors' stalls weren't burnt.

Behind him was a young man with a cold face, his aura restrained, but Tang Hao could sense the hidden power within him, like a lurking ice wolf.

Seven people, seven martial spirits, seven personalities, but their steps were completely synchronized, their breathing was completely synchronized, and even their heartbeats seemed to be on the same frequency.

Tang Hao watched them walk past the teahouse, watched the people on the street spontaneously make way for them, and watched the young girls blush as they stuffed flowers into their hands.

His gaze lingered on the seven people for a long time before shifting to what was behind them.

There are three other people there.

A boy, a girl, and a boy who was half a head shorter than the boy.

The boy walked in the middle, about twelve or thirteen years old, with a tall and slender figure and handsome face. He wore an ordinary dark blue team uniform without any special decorations.

He walked casually, at a leisurely pace, like taking a stroll after a meal.

But once Tang Hao's gaze fell on him, he couldn't look away.

He had seen this boy before.

In the Starry Sky Forest, next to that towering red pillar of light.

He was far away at that time and could only see a blurry shadow, but that shadow was etched in his mind and he could not forget it.

His aura was completely concealed, and no fluctuations in soul power could be seen, but Tang Hao knew that this young man was already at the Soul Saint level.

A twelve-year-old Soul Saint.

He looked down at his hands.

Those pale hands were trembling slightly, not from fear, but from excitement.

The blood-red lines flowed across his palm, as if they were alive.

He wanted to kill someone.

I want to rush out right now and smash that boy's head with a stick, just like Qian Gu Xiao Ye smashed his sternum back then.

But he didn't move.

Because he saw the person behind the boy—a girl in a white dress, with an ordinary appearance, but her eyes were too bright, abnormally bright.

There was also a chubby-faced boy, looking around with a string of candied hawthorns in his hand and sugar residue on his lips.

That kid looks ordinary, but he walks the wrong way.

His steps were so heavy that each step caused a barely perceptible tremor in the ground.

Those were traces of the Golden Dragon Crocodile's martial spirit circulating within its body.

Tang Hao closed his eyes.

His hands stopped trembling. The time wasn't right.

He told himself that the time was not right.

He opened his eyes and took one last look at the boy's back.

The boy had already walked away, his dark blue team uniform appearing and disappearing in the crowd before finally vanishing around the street corner.

Tang Hao stood up, threw a few copper coins on the table, and walked out of the teahouse.

The sunlight shone on him, making the shadows beneath his gray robe even darker.

He blended into the crowd and followed the Spirit Hall's group, walking at a leisurely pace.

No one noticed him; he was too ordinary, as ordinary as a speck of dust.

Ahead, the outline of the Heavenly Battle Arena is getting closer and closer.

The banner, adorned with angels and dragons, fluttered in the wind.

Tang Hao raised his head, looked at the flag, and smiled slightly.

It was a cruel smile, like a wolf scrutinizing its prey.

The competition has only just begun.

The second day of competition had not yet begun, but the atmosphere in the athletes' rest area was already completely different from the previous day.

There are no students today, only team leaders from various colleges, who are also coaches.

The youngest of these people was over forty, and the oldest was over fifty.

They came from all over the mainland; some were retired Soul Masters, some were deans of academies, and some were elders of sects.

They don't need to fight on the field, but their vision, tactics, and experience often determine the outcome of the game.

Lei Qianxing, the leader of Thunder Academy, sat cross-legged in the corner. He was in his early fifties, a level seventy-three Soul Saint, and his Martial Soul was Thunder Eagle.

He closed his eyes and remained motionless, like a weathered rock.

Yan Pojun, the leader of the Blazing Fire Academy, stood against the wall. He was 45 years old, a level 71 Soul Saint, and his Martial Soul was the Fiery Lion. His red hair was like a burning flame.

Shui Linglong, the team leader of Tianshui Academy, sat in a chair, holding a cup of hot tea. She was forty-eight years old, a level seventy-two Soul Saint, and her Martial Soul was a water capybara. Her face was cold and aloof, like a thousand-year-old ice.

Feng Wanli, the leader of Shenfeng Academy, stood by the window. He was forty-two years old, a seventy-first-level Soul Saint, and his martial soul was the Wind Winged Dragon. His blue hair fluttered gently in the windless room.

Dongfang Yun, the leader of the Heaven Dou Royal Academy, sat in the most conspicuous position. He was fifty-two years old, a level seventy-four Soul Saint, and his martial soul was the Golden-Winged Roc.

Born into a noble family in the Heavenly Dou Empire, he was elegant in demeanor and extraordinary in bearing, but a hint of arrogance often flashed in his eyes.

Chapter 114 This Holy Son Doesn't Fall for This

Several assistant coaches stood behind him, each of them a Soul Emperor.

Nangong Lie, the leader of the Star Luo Royal Academy, sat opposite him. He was fifty-four years old, a level seventy-three Soul Saint, and his martial soul was the Dark Demon Tiger. He was burly, with piercing tiger eyes and an aura of iron and blood.

In a corner, the leaders of smaller colleges such as Barak College and Fasno College huddled together, barely daring to breathe.

Most of them are at the Soul King or Soul Emperor level, not even Soul Saint.

When Ling Feng entered the rest area, all eyes were on him.

Twelve years old, a level 70 Quasi-Soul Saint.

Lei Qianxing opened his eyes, a glint of light flashing in his cloudy old eyes, before he closed them again.

Yan Pojun lowered his arms, flames dancing on his fingertips, and his gaze lingered on Ling Feng for a long time.

Shui Linglong paused slightly in her teacup, causing ripples to spread across the tea.

Feng Wanli turned around by the window and looked at the boy properly for the first time.

Dongfang Yun leaned forward slightly as he leaned back in his chair, and the phantom of the Golden-Winged Roc flashed past behind him.

Nangong Lie's tiger-like eyes were full of scrutiny, like a tiger sizing up its prey.

Ling Feng didn't look at anyone.

He walked to an empty seat in the corner of the rest area, took out a book from his pocket, and turned to the page with the bookmark.

The rest area was quiet for a moment, then resumed with hushed conversations.

But the noise that follows the silence always feels somewhat deliberate.

Dongfang Yun was the first to speak.

He didn't look at Ling Feng, but instead picked up his teacup and gently blew away the foam, his voice neither warm nor cold.

"I heard that the Holy Son is twelve years old this year? A twelve-year-old Soul Saint? In my fifty-two years of life, this is the first time I have ever seen one."

Yan Pojun replied, his tone carrying a hint of something indescribable.

"The Spirit Hall is indeed the Spirit Hall. While other people's children are still playing in the mud at the age of twelve, this person is already a Soul Saint at the age of twelve."

"Comparing people is a recipe for disaster, and comparing goods is a recipe for disaster."

Feng Wanli didn't speak, but the corners of his mouth turned up slightly.

Shui Linglong put down her teacup and said softly, "You two should be careful with your words. The Holy Son is a prodigy; how can an ordinary child compare?"

Dongfang Yun smiled, a faint smile: "I have no other meaning, I am just curious. I am also a level 70 Soul Saint."

"But it took me thirty-three years to get to this point. The Holy Son took six years."

"I also want to know, is the Holy Son's foundation as solid as his soul power?"

That's a polite way of putting it, but the meaning is very clear: you're already at level 70 at the age of twelve. Is that forced growth or genuine talent?

These brain-dead nobles really don't understand the situation. Sometimes Ling Feng really wants to crack open their brains and see which corner of filth is inside.

However, he held back, turned a page of the book, and didn't even look up.

The atmosphere in the rest area was somewhat awkward.

Nangong Lie leaned back in his chair, his tiger-like eyes narrowed slightly, and a meaningful smile played on his lips.

Lei Qianxing kept his eyes closed, but his ears twitched slightly.