Chapter 43: Xiaogang's Misfortune
After leaving the sect, Yu Xiaogang's luck turned from bad to worse.
Before his departure, he had requested a sect token from his father. With the token of the Blue Lightning Tyrant Dragon Clan, he could enter the Spirit Hall or even visit the other two Upper Sects. It would make meeting important figures—and perhaps finding a way to break his thirty-rank bottleneck—far easier.
But as he descended the mountain, he was stopped by Yu Xiaomen, who snatched the sect token right out of his hand before leaving.
They say the King of Hell is easy to see, but his little demons are not. Without that token, Yu Xiaogang found himself blocked at every turn. Every guard refused him entry—to the Spirit Hall branches, to the Clear Sky Sect, to the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Sect. None of the great figures of the continent were people he could approach unaided.
He could have returned to the sect to demand another token, but pride forbade it. Before leaving, he had sworn that he would not return home unless he made a name for himself.
Thus, Yu Xiaogang had to find another way—to sneak into Spirit Hall or one of the great sects, to infiltrate their inner workings and discover the secret to evolving a martial spirit.
But fate decided to mock him once more. He ran into a swindler—a vile liar who claimed to possess a divine medicine capable of evolving martial souls. Tempted, Yu Xiaogang fell for the scam. He lost all his money.
Penniless yet stubborn, Yu Xiaogang still had his soul power. At rank twenty-nine, he could have joined a soul-hunting team and earned commission helping others obtain rings. He also could have joined Spirit Hall as a local deacon, awakening spirits for villagers.
But Yu Xiaogang was the son of Yu Yuanzhen—the heir of the Blue Lightning Tyrant Dragon Clan. To lower himself to help commoners awaken spirits? To teach the ignorant masses? To hunt beasts for coins alongside peasants? To him, such things were beneath him.
He would rather starve than sully his noble status.
And starve he did—three long days without food.
At last, heaven took pity. Dizzy with hunger, he saw several soul masters leaving the local Spirit Hall, holding gold spirit coins they had collected.
That sight sparked a realization—Spirit Hall paid monthly stipends to registered soul masters.
So Yu Xiaogang went to the hall, reported his rank, and received his monthly payment, finally filling his empty stomach for the first time in days.
Half an hour later, a skinny young man with a small head, dressed in a black scholar's robe and built like a stick, strolled out of Spirit Hall carrying a sack of coins.
"Humph," he scoffed, glancing at the money. "Spirit Hall uses funds from the two empires to buy loyalty… despicable. Still, if they're handing out money, I'd be a fool not to take it."
With Spirit Hall's stipend, hunger was no longer his problem. But his bottleneck remained as unshakable as ever.
Even with Yu Yuanzhen's personal energy transfer, he could not break past rank thirty. How could he do it alone now?
The truth was painful—without his father's endless assistance, he likely would never have become a soul master at all.
And so, in every fit of frustration, he took it out on his martial soul.
Hidden away in some dark corner, he would summon Luo Sanpao and unleash all his anger upon it.
"You useless trash! You could have evolved into the Golden Holy Dragon, but instead you devolved! Because of you, I've been branded a failure for more than ten years! If not for you, I'd be Soul King—no, Soul Emperor by now! Give me back my Golden Holy Dragon! Give it back!"
In his fury, he kicked Luo Sanpao hard across the floor. The poor creature squealed pitifully.
If harming one's martial soul didn't reflect pain back on the master, Yu Xiaogang likely would have butchered it for dinner by now.
Days later, in a shabby inn in Coconut Grove City, Yu Xiaogang stumbled into his rented room. He pushed open the door—only to find three figures waiting inside.
Two elderly men flanked a tall, handsome youth standing proudly at the center.
"You—" Yu Xiaogang began, but before he could finish, a flash of golden light filled the room. Dizziness overwhelmed him, and he collapsed to the floor.
Just before losing consciousness, he faintly heard their conversation.
"So this is Yu Yuanzhen's famous disgrace of a son, eh?" one of the elders sneered. "Truly living up to the name! His martial spirit's a pig—and his skill, a fart! Hahahaha!"
"That's not even the worst of it," the other elder added. "They say this fool wasted a decade's worth of resources and his father's own soul power, only to reach rank twenty-nine. If not for him, Yu Yuanzhen might have reached rank ninety-five by now."
"How generous of him," the youth said with a faint smile. "He's managed to slow down the entire Blue Lightning Tyrant Dragon Clan. For that, we should almost thank him."
"But… are you truly choosing him?" one of the elders asked.
The handsome youth chuckled. "What I need is a fool—a clown, not a genius."
In his fading awareness, Yu Xiaogang screamed silently inside: I'm not a fool… I'm not a clown!
When he awoke at dusk, he was lying alone on the floor. His head ached, and his memory blurred.
Strange… Why was I sleeping on the ground? What just happened?
Unable to recall, he shook it off and returned to his endless frustration.
Thanks to Spirit Hall's stipend, he could eat now. But his dream—his goal—remained distant as ever.
He needed to infiltrate another power, to steal the key to evolving martial spirits and use their resources to transform Luo Sanpao back into the Golden Holy Dragon. But without a sect token, how could he even get close to them?
Scratching his small, square head, Yu Xiaogang sighed and wandered out into the city with hands clasped behind his back.
As he walked through the streets of Coconut Grove, worry clouded his face. Then, suddenly, he saw her.
A slender figure moving gracefully through the crowd—a woman with flowing wine-red hair and a stunningly elegant form.
Yu Xiaogang's eyes widened. His gaze sharpened like a wolf's.
She was beautiful, yes—but that wasn't what captured him. What electrified him was recognition.
That woman was none other than the Spirit Hall's current Holy Maiden—Bibi Dong.
And at that moment, the little machine of schemes inside Yu Xiaogang's head began to spin faster and faster.
(END CHAPTER)
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