Tang Long raised his hand and knocked twice on the door. "Sect Master, we've brought Tang San."
"Come in." A deep, resonant voice sounded from within the room, and to Tang San's ears, it was strangely familiar—because the voice bore at least an eighty-percent resemblance to his father Tang Hao.
Tang Long pushed the door open, shot Tang San a meaningful glance, and entered first. Tang Tian, however, did not follow—he remained standing at the entrance.
The room was well over a hundred square meters, its furnishings quite simple: a broad desk, bookshelves covering two of the walls, and two long sofas.
Tang Yuehua sat elegantly on one of the sofas. When she spotted Tang San entering behind Tang Long, clad all in white, the smile on her lovely face instantly brightened.
Tang San naturally spotted his aunt right away, but his attention was immediately seized by the imposing figure behind the desk.
The man stood well over two meters tall, broad-shouldered and powerful, his features chiseled as if carved by blade and axe, his short hair white. He wore a plain grey robe much like Tang Tian's, yet standing there, the man seemed to be the very core of the entire castle.
Two meters of height might not be considered extraordinary, but if Tang San had to pick a single word to describe the person before him, the only word that came to mind was "towering."
His father's eyes were clouded—that was the result of old injuries—but this man, who bore a seventy- or eighty-percent resemblance to his father, looked several years younger. His piercing gaze burned like torches, and the moment Tang San stepped inside, those eyes locked onto him with absolute focus. A vast, majestic aura surged outward with wild abandon, utterly unrestrained, and immense pressure crashed down upon Tang San in an instant.
The ingenious thing was that this pressure flowed around Tang Long entirely, having not the slightest effect on him.
Tang Long was no weakling, yet he quickly sidestepped, his expression shifting slightly. Looking back at Tang San, a trace of anxiety crept into his gaze.
But what astonished Tang Long was that Tang San, upon entering the room and facing the oncoming pressure, showed not the slightest change in expression. His feet shifted subtly into a T-stance, his spine ramrod straight. The elegance vanished from his face, replaced by a look of pure respect.
He bent both knees and sank to the ground. A faint glow—blue on one layer, white on another—flickered across the surface of his skin, barely discernible. With a heavy thud, he dropped to his knees and bowed before the man behind the desk who was radiating that towering presence.
"Tang San pays his respects to the Sect Master." Six simple words, each one spoken with perfect clarity and fluid conviction.
Tang Long's pupils dilated. Was this fellow even human? Facing the Sect Master's overwhelming pressure, he had not only managed to adjust his posture and kneel, but was still able to speak?
Could it be that his strength truly surpassed his own? But his second aunt had said he was only twenty years old.
What Tang Long could never have known was just how terrifying the pressure Tang San was enduring truly was.
The colossal force bore down like a mountain piercing the clouds, leaving him unable to breathe. Though Tang San appeared calm on the surface, in truth both of his domains had already activated simultaneously.
The Killing God Domain formed the inner layer, shielded by the Blue Silver Domain on the outside—concealing his released aura completely from the world beyond. And his entire body had been pushed to absolute tension.
After all, this was a physique tempered by two divine medicinal herbs and countless trials. Right now, Tang San was bearing that crushing pressure much like a blacksmith forging steel beneath a waterfall.
Every movement he made was an act of finding the weakest point within the pressure bearing down on him, using those motions to reduce its force upon his body.
As for those six words he had spoken—he had expelled them using internal energy to form sound.
The man behind the desk narrowed his gaze, and all the pressure vanished in an instant. Tang San felt his surroundings go suddenly empty, as though every ounce of strength had been drained from his body. Had it not been for the rock-solid foundation he had built through long hours of training beneath waterfalls, the sudden release would have sent him face-first to the floor in humiliation. But he steadied himself in the end—his upper body swayed slightly, yet he maintained his kneeling bow.
"Rise." The deep, resonant voice came from the man's mouth. This was indeed the current Sect Master of the Clear Sky School—Tang Hao's own elder brother, Tang Xiao. The other of the Clear Sky School's twin Douluo. His title was Howling Sky.
Tang San did not rise immediately. Instead, he pressed his forehead to the ground three times with force, each impact producing a resonant boom.
Tang Yuehua frowned and hurried forward to pull Tang San to his feet. "What are you doing? What happened with your father back then—you shouldn't have to bear all of it alone." Whether it was her or Tang Xiao, both understood that these three deep kowtows were on behalf of Tang Hao.
Tang San rose to his feet and stood with his head bowed. "A son repays his father's debts—such is the natural order. Sect Master, I am willing to bear all responsibility on my father's behalf."