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

Feng Wanli turned around and looked out the window again.

Seeing that Ling Feng remained silent, Yan Pojun snorted, "What, does the Holy Son not want to talk to us old guys? Or does he think we're not worthy?"

Ling Feng finally raised his head.

He looked at Yan Pojun, his gaze calm as still water.

"Although you are indeed unworthy."

"But if you want to learn something, just say it. This Holy Son is not so stingy."

Yan Pojun felt a little uncomfortable under his gaze, but he refused to back down.

"What I want to hear is not important; what matters is what the Holy Son can say. A Soul Saint at the age of twelve, the first of its kind on the continent."

"But the Soul Master Competition is not a one-person affair, and not just anyone can be the team leader. Holy Son, what makes you think you deserve to sit in this position?"

That's a bit harsh.

Dongfang Yun tightened his grip on the teacup slightly, but remained silent.

Shui Linglong frowned slightly, wanting to say something, but swallowed it back, ultimately restrained by the power of the Spirit Hall.

Feng Wanli turned around at the window and watched the scene with great interest.

Lei Qianxing opened his eyes, and Nangong Lie sat up straight.

Ling Feng closed the book and stood up.

He didn't release his soul power or activate his martial soul; he simply stood there, looking at Yan Pojun.

"Senior is level 71, Martial Soul: Fiery Lion; Junior is level 70, Martial Soul: Dark Dragon Staff."

His voice was calm, "Senior, what makes me think I deserve to sit in this position?"

Yan Pojun's pupils contracted slightly.

It wasn't because of Ling Feng's words, but because Ling Feng's tone was too calm when he said them.

He was so calm, unlike a twelve-year-old child, that it sent a chill down his spine.

"Soul power level doesn't tell the whole story."

Dongfang Yun spoke, his voice still indifferent, "I am level 74, and the Holy Son is level 70. In terms of soul power, I am higher than the Holy Son."

“But the Son sits there, and I sit here.”

"I want to ask the Holy Son a question—Have you ever led troops? Have you ever fought in a large-scale battle? Have you ever experienced life and death?"

Ling Feng looked at him without saying a word.

Dongfang Yun continued, "Being a team leader isn't just about having high cultivation levels. A team leader needs to understand tactics, know how to use people, and know how to make the right judgments at crucial moments."

“The Holy Son is twelve years old this year. Even if he started learning from the womb, he has only been learning for twelve years.”

"I've led troops and fought battles for twenty-five years. Does the Holy Son think you know better than me how to lead an army?"

This statement made perfect sense, and many team leaders present nodded slightly in agreement.

Ling Feng remained silent for a moment before speaking.

"Senior Dongfang has led a team for twenty-five years and played countless matches."

Dongfang Yun was taken aback: "More than eighty performances."

"How much did you win?"

Dongfang Yun's expression was somewhat unpleasant: "Forty-nine matches."

Ling Feng nodded and then asked, "How long did it take Zhao Tiezhu and the other members of the Holy Son's team to defeat the Heavenly Dou Royal Academy yesterday?"

Dongfang Yun opened his mouth, but didn't say anything.

Of course he knew—three minutes.

The Spirit Hall Academy defeated the Heaven Dou Royal Academy in just three minutes.

Ling Feng looked at him calmly.

"I did only study for twelve years, and the team I led did only train for two months."

"But my team won the game in three minutes yesterday. Senior Dongfang has led the team for twenty-five years. Has he ever achieved such a result?"

"In the end, you're just a piece of trash."

"Ambition knows no age; without ambition, one lives a wasted life. This is all you'll ever be; you won't even reach the level of a Contra Douluo."

The rest area was deathly silent.

The veins on Dongfang Yun's fingers, which were gripping the teacup, bulged, but he couldn't utter a single word.

Yan Pojun opened his mouth, then closed it again.

Shui Linglong's hand holding the teacup trembled slightly; the words spoken by this holy son were too blunt.

Feng Wanli's smile faded.

Lei Qianxing closed his eyes, but his brows twitched slightly.

Nangong Lie leaned back in his chair, a hint of something indescribable appearing in his tiger-like eyes.

"Is the Holy Son speaking too bluntly? It would be bad if he hurt other people's feelings."

"I'll hurt your mother's head!"

Ling Feng unleashed a torrent of abuse, did these clowns really think he had a good temper?

If Qian Renxue hadn't been watching him closely, he would have already had Shui Linglong relieve his anger. Why would these people be making sarcastic remarks here?

Chapter 115 Using Strength to Break Through Doubts

Ling Feng didn't look at them again, turned around and walked towards the exit of the rest area. He stopped at the door.

"Today you are spared punishment for your ignorance, but if there is a next time, I, the Holy Son, will make you regret ever being born into this world."

He pushed open the door and left, leaving the room in complete silence.

Dongfang Yun leaned back in his chair, slowly setting down his teacup. He gazed in the direction Ling Feng had disappeared, his eyes filled with complex emotions.

He led the team for 25 years without winning a championship.

The twelve-year-old boy, leading the team for the first time, managed to finish the game in three minutes.

He suddenly felt old.

It's not that I'm old in age, it's that my heart is old.

Yan Pojun stood still, flames dancing on his fingertips, flickering on and off.

He wanted to refute, but couldn't find the words to do so.

He wanted to get angry, but couldn't find a reason to.

He could only stand there, staring at the closed door, without saying a word.

Shui Linglong put down her teacup; the tea had gone cold.

"Out of control."

She said softly, not knowing who she was talking about.

Feng Wanli turned to look out the window. On the field, the flag of the Spirit Hall was fluttering in the wind.

Lei Qianxing opened his eyes, staring at the ceiling, seemingly lost in thought.

Nangong Lie leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes, and gave a bitter smile.

In the corner, the leader of the Barak Academy team shrank back and whispered to the person next to him.

"Why do I feel that the Holy Son is more terrifying than Zhao Tiezhu and the others combined?"

The people next to him nodded vigorously.

Outside the rest area, Ling Feng walked down the corridor.

Qian Renxue emerged from around the corner and walked alongside him.

"I heard you," she said softly.

Ling Feng nodded.

"Aren't you angry?"

Ling Feng thought for a moment and said, "There's nothing to be angry about. They question me because they don't understand me. Once they do, they won't question me anymore."

Qian Renxue looked at him and suddenly smiled.

When did you become so confident?

Ling Feng smiled too; it was a faint smile, but very genuine.

"It's not confidence, it's the truth."

Qian Renxue didn't say anything more, she just walked beside him.

Behind him, the door to the rest area opened again, and Zhao Tiezhu strode out and caught up with Ling Feng.

"Holy Son!" he cried.

Ling Feng stopped and looked at him.

Zhao Tiezhu scratched his head and chuckled, "I heard what those team leaders said just now."

"Don't worry, I will definitely beat them in today's match until they are convinced of my superiority."

Ling Feng looked at him, then suddenly raised his hand and patted his shoulder.

"Don't kill him."

Zhao Tiezhu was taken aback for a moment, then grinned. "Don't worry, I know what I'm doing."

He turned around and strode towards the arena.

Behind him followed Liu Ruyan, Shen Han, Sun Fang, Sun Fei, Han Qing, and Zhou Tai. Seven people, of one mind.

Ling Feng watched their retreating figures, a slight smile playing on his lips.