Flandre knew that because of Tang San, the Great Master—who was usually so calm—had already lost his composure. Continuing like this would accomplish nothing. He looked steadily at the Poison Douluo before him and offered a slight bow. "Senior Dugu, Tang San is our disciple. We don't know what offense he may have caused you, but I humbly ask you to show mercy. He is, after all, only a thirteen-year-old child. You are a Titled Douluo—a great man should have a great heart. Please, let him go."
Flandre considered his words to have been suitably tactful, carrying just a subtle edge of irony. Unfortunately, he was dealing with the Poison Douluo, a man who would not yield to either softness or hardness.
Dugu Bo flipped his eyelids upward. "Are you suggesting I've been bullying the young? Beat the little ones, and the old ones come out to fight. Beat you, and I wonder—do you have even older ones behind you? That kid Tang San has already been reduced to nothing—no flesh, no bones left. You want to avenge him? Fine, come at me. I wanted to get some exercise yesterday, but those three old cowards still didn't dare make a move. You three aren't much, but you'll do for loosening up my limbs."
When Dugu Bo said that Tang San had been reduced to nothing—no flesh, no bones—the Great Master felt his brain buzz and the world go dark before his eyes. Over the years, the bond between him and Tang San had long since grown beyond that of master and disciple. It was the bond of father and son.
The Great Master had never married. All these years, he had regarded Tang San as his own child. Hearing Dugu Bo declare that Tang San's remains were gone, the agony inside him was more than mere pain.
It was despair.
Under extreme emotions, people undergo different transformations. Some become dull and vacant. Others become hysterical.
But the Great Master was different. In this moment, it was as though every trace of vitality had been wrung from his body. The temperature around him seemed to vanish entirely. He looked as cold as a block of ice, and the gaze he fixed on Dugu Bo had turned to pure, frozen malice.
Even a powerhouse like Dugu Bo, when pinned by that deathly, glacial stare, couldn't help feeling a chill run down his spine. His brows furrowed slightly.
Flandre's expression had darkened completely. "Dugu Bo—you will regret killing Tang San. Even if we cannot make you pay, you will not meet a good end."
Dugu Bo curled his lips. "Oh? Planning to come back for revenge later? No, you won't get the chance. Come on then—show me what you've got, what makes you think you can provoke this old man. Believe it or not, I have a thousand ways to make you wish you were dead. It's been a while since I've seen a spectacular display like this. Getting in was easy—but getting out won't be so simple. My territory isn't somewhere just anyone can waltz into."
Flandre and Liu Erlong exchanged a glance. The two of them pulled the Great Master behind them simultaneously, each stepping forward at an angle. In an instant, the three of them formed a triangular formation.
"Sun and Moon Radiance—Golden Turn!" Flandre bellowed. He did not release his Martial Soul. Instead, a blazing golden light erupted from his body—not directed at Dugu Bo, but soaring skyward while also spreading outward from beneath his feet.
The same golden light appeared on the Great Master and Liu Erlong as well. It blazed and spread, instantly forming a golden triangle with the three of them as its vertices. At the very center of the triangle hovered a golden ring, surrounded on all sides by intricate, interlocking patterns.
Now, all three of them were covered in a layer of radiant gold. Flandre and Liu Erlong slowly closed their eyes, while the light in the Great Master's eyes grew noticeably brighter—two blades of sharp brilliance locked onto Dugu Bo.
"Oh? What Soul Skill is this?" Dugu Bo studied the three before him with a measure of surprise, a hint of doubt stirring within.
As a Titled Douluo, he had seen no shortage of extraordinary things—but this was something he had never encountered before. He couldn't understand how the Great Master, who had been a Great Soul Master of fewer than thirty ranks just moments ago, was now radiating an aura that seemed, in some subtle way, capable of standing toe to toe with his own.
Three wisps of violet mist rose from beneath the golden light and drifted slowly into the air, dissipating as they went. At the sight of this, Dugu Bo's expression finally shifted.
He recognized that violet mist. He had laid down a poison array all around this mountain. Anyone who entered would be contaminated with a potent toxin—not overwhelmingly strong, but insidious and cruel. It required a full hour to activate, and after that hour, it would cause the victim's entire body to convulse, their meridians to wither, and death to follow.
The violet mist now being expelled from Flandre and the others was clearly the lethal toxin from his array, forced out of their bodies. That poison was nothing to Dugu Bo himself, but for ordinary Soul Masters it was absolutely fatal. Without at least the rank of Soul Douluo, there was simply no way to expel it.
This was what perplexed Dugu Bo the most. Clearly only two of them were at the seventy-something rank, and one hadn't even reached thirty—so why did it feel in this moment as though all three had suddenly become powerhouse-level Soul Douluo?
Dugu Bo had risen to fame far too early and had traveled far too little across the continent in later years. Naturally, he had never heard of the legend of the Golden Iron Triangle.