(Author Notes: Canonically the na is Devil Bear Douluo, but since I have used Demon Bear Douluo , I am keeping that)
The scene shifts back to the mont Wu ng first opened the wooden box.
Her eyes widened, breath catching. Resting within was no Elder's token, but an herb of dazzling beauty, its pale white body curved like a lion’s fang, its surface etched with delicate blue veins that glowed faintly.
The Spirit Hall soul masters surrounding her leaned forward instinctively. None could na the herb, but each felt the sa thing: an aura of life and transcendence that made their martial souls stir restlessly.
“A herb?” one soul master whispered, disbelief etched across his face.
While no one could identify the herb they can conclude that it was undoubtedly very precious. Another soul master licked his lips, greed flashing in his eyes.
Wu ng’s heart pounded. She understood in that instant what she held—it was an ‘immortal herb’ a treasure beyond compare, sothing that could grant breakthroughs or change destinies.
‘Why is this here instead of the Elder’s token? ‘
Even as confusion swirled, her instincts scread danger. She shut the wooden box and with a flick of her wrist sent it back into her space soul guide.
That single motion was enough to spark greed.
A harsh voice rang out among the Spirit Hall entourage:
“That herb looks extraordinary… Catch her!”
In an instant, killing intent filled the secluded street.
Wu ng’s expression hardened. She took a step back, her voice cold:
“Martial Soul—Spirit Butterfly!”
A faint glow erupted behind her, and from her back unfolded a pair of translucent, crystalline butterfly wings. They shimred in hues of violet and silver, dusted with specks of luminous starlight that drifted into the air like falling petals.
When she fully possessed her martial soul, Wu ng’s eyes took on a faint purple sheen, her hair strands seed lighter as if brushed with moonlight, and her aura exuded both grace and sharpness. Her spirit rings lit up beneath her feet, their glow surrounding her delicate yet resolute figure.
The Spirit Hall soul masters responded in kind.
One bared his teeth and summoned a feral wolf martial soul—dark fur bristling, muscles bulging as claws glinted coldly in the dim light. His pupils turned to bestial yellow as his spirit rings circled under him.
Another roared, summoning a tiger martial soul, his fra swelling with power, black stripes crawling across his skin as his hands transford into clawed gauntlets.
Two others drew weapon martial souls: a razor-sharp broadsword gleaming with killing intent, and a curved knife that seed to radiate a bloody aura, as though it had tasted countless lives.
The narrow street that had been silent now thrumd with violent energy. Shadows twisted as soul rings lit the ground, each combatant locking their eyes on Wu ng.
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Spirit Hall Branch, Gengxin city
Bishop yers sat with his hands tightly clasped before the imposing figure in front of him. His every movent carried a trace of reverence, for the man seated on the main chair was not soone he could afford to slight.
The man was tall and broad, his figure resembling a towering mountain. Even when seated, his burly body exuded an oppressive pressure that weighed on the hall. His coarse black hair tumbled over his shoulders like a mane, and his arms, thick as tree trunks, were covered in faint scars—marks left behind by countless battles with powerful soul beasts. His eyes, dark and deep, carried a savage glint, like a beast that had never truly been tad.
This was Demon Bear Douluo, one of Spirit Hall’s titled experts, renowned for his tyrannical strength and ferocity. With the Blood Devil Mad Bear as his martial soul, he stood as a figure most soul masters would avoid provoking, lest they et a crushing end beneath his massive palms.
The quiet atmosphere of the branch was suddenly broken when a ssenger stumbled hurriedly into the hall, bowing deeply as sweat dripped down his temples.
“Bishop yers,” the ssenger spoke, his voice trembling, “the woman you instructed us to monitor… she had a very precious herb on her. Now the soul masters are in pursuit of her!”
yers’ expression darkened at once. His brows furrowed sharply, and he slamd a palm against the armrest of his chair.
“Useless trash! I specifically told you she was not to slip away!” he roared. “I assigned three Soul Ancestors and two Soul Kings—four n in total! And yet you still failed to capture a single Soul King woman? What face do you expect to show before the elders?”
The ssenger shrank back, unable to defend himself against the reprimand.
Just as yers’ fury filled the hall, a deep, rumbling voice suddenly echoed through the room.
“…A precious herb, you say?”
The words carried a heavy pressure that silenced even yers. All eyes turned toward Demon Bear Douluo, who leaned forward slightly, his interest piqued. His lips curved into a faint, dangerous smile as his voice rolled like thunder:
“I want to see for myself… what kind of ‘precious herb’ dares appear in Gengxin City.”
His words struck like a hamr, and yers’ heart skipped a beat. Demon Bear Douluo was not an easy man to please.
In Spirit Hall, Demon Bear Douluo had already heard whispers about rare immortal herbs—heaven-defying treasures that could allow even peak Douluo to advance further or grant younger generations leaps in cultivation. Such herbs were said to exist only in the hands of the highest elders in the Elder Hall.
For one to suddenly appear in the wild? The chance was too great to ignore.
A trace of hunger glead in Demon Bear Douluo’s eyes. His massive hands flexed, as if eager to crush mountains apart to claim what he desired.
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