"You're a Douhuang (Battle Emperor)?"
Hun Doulou's voice wasn't loud, but it jolted everyone present back to their senses.
In an instant, the world erupted with a wave of gasps and commotion that echoed across the heavens.
Hun Doulou stared hard at Hun Tiandi. Even though she'd snapped out of her shock, she still couldn't believe what she saw—those unmistakably solid battle wings behind him.
Battle Qi Wings.
And not just any wings—these were fully formed, corporeal Douhuang-class wings. Yes, they could all summon wings through Dou Qi, but the wings of a true Douhuang were on another level entirely.
She simply couldn't believe Hun Tiandi was merely a Douhuang. How could a mere Douhuang withstand her High Earth-Tier Dou Technique with his bare body? It was absurd.
But if he wasn't a Douhuang—if he was even stronger, perhaps a Douzong or Douzun—then why bother manifesting wings at all? Wouldn't it be easier to just float in the air?
Or maybe… was Hun Tiandi just pretending to be weak to toy with them? Acting humble just to make an even grander impression later?
All kinds of thoughts raced through Hun Doulou's mind.
But the truth was, everyone on the dueling platform—and even the spectators around—were thinking the same thing.
They refused to believe Hun Tiandi was merely a Douhuang. Could a Douhuang really just stand still and tank a terrifying blow like "Extreme Wind Finger" with nothing but flesh and blood?
Impossible.
No matter how monstrous a genius someone was, they couldn't survive that kind of attack without resisting.
Even Douzongs or Douzuns, if they didn't use Dou Qi to defend, would still risk death if they took such a hit head-on.
After all, without Dou Qi or defense, what's the difference between them and an ordinary human?
If you don't fight back, if you don't shield yourself, even a Douling's attack could kill you easily—let alone a Douwang's devastating technique.
And yet, Hun Tiandi had done it. He took Hun Doulou's High Earth-Tier strike directly—with his body alone.
Everyone had assumed he was courting death. But no. He survived. Sure, he looked battered and bloody, but he was still standing. Alive.
Just that alone… was something not even most Douzuns could achieve.
Only the physical body of a Dou Sheng (Battle Saint) could possibly endure such a thing.
So now, everyone began to suspect—Hun Tiandi was actually… a Dou Sheng.
A nine-year-old Dou Sheng.
Just think about that.
This wasn't just rare—it was utterly freakish. If this youth didn't die early, he was practically guaranteed to become a Dou Di (Battle God/Emperor) in less than ten years—an existence above all others, standing atop heaven and earth.
But then again, if he was a Dou Sheng… why would he show wings like a mere Douhuang?
That could only mean one thing:
Hun Tiandi was holding back.
Partly to keep a low profile.
But mostly—perhaps—to preserve the dignity of the Soul Clan's younger generation.
Because if the truth got out—that a nine-year-old from the Soul Clan had already reached Dou Sheng—it would shake the entire continent.
What pride could the other young elites still hold?
They were all from the same clan, living in the same world… yet while Hun Tiandi had reached the heavens at age nine, the rest of them were still struggling at Dou Wang or Dou Huang.
The gap was astronomical—like a canyon that could never be crossed.
And so—Hun Tiandi was still Hun Tiandi.
Either a Dou Sheng, or someone with a god-grade bloodline. His strength, his vision, his restraint—they could only admire.
One by one, the Soul Clan youths on the platform understood. They glanced at each other, offering bitter smiles and silent nods.
Even Hun Feng understood it now. A flicker of awe rose in his heart.
"No wonder he's the big brother, and I'm the little one. I used to think it was just age… but now I realize—he truly deserves it. I can't compare. Calling him 'big brother' is the least I can do."
One after another, the young generation bowed in their hearts. They felt only respect.
Hun Tiandi, meanwhile, had no idea the entire crowd had filled in the blanks with their own wild imagination.
He looked calmly at Hun Doulou and nodded. "Yes. I'm just a Douhuang."
"Mm." Hun Doulou responded with a nod of her own, unsurprised. She had already guessed this answer.
Everything was just as she had expected.
Her body slowly descended, landing on the dueling platform. She cupped her fists and said with sincerity:
"Hun Tiandi… you're incredible. You're stronger than me. I admit defeat."
Then, with a grin, she even gave him a thumbs up—her face full of admiration.
"…You're giving up?" Hun Tiandi blinked in surprise.
He didn't understand. After making him eat dirt and bleed like this, she just calls it quits?
Who was going to pay for his ragged, miserable state?
He'd been waiting for her final move. After she burned her last attack, then he would show her the true strength of Hun Tiandi.
At this point, Hun Doulou was basically running on empty. She couldn't possibly release another powerful strike.
One more round, and he could turn the whole battle around.
He was ready for it.
And now… she was giving up? Done playing?
Did she think he'd just accept that?
No way.
"I don't accept your surrender," Hun Tiandi said, his voice firm and eyes locked onto hers.
She wouldn't surrender when he asked. Now she wanted to? After getting her fun in?
What did that make him—a punching bag?
"…Huh?" Hun Doulou blinked in confusion.
Wasn't this what he had wanted all along? For her to surrender?
And now that she did… he wouldn't allow it?
Men really are weird.
Truthfully, Hun Doulou had thought this through.
First, it was what Hun Tiandi had originally demanded. Now that she'd witnessed his true power, why not honor that?
Second, her Dou Qi was nearly depleted. She barely had anything left in the tank. Whatever third strike she had wouldn't be worth much.
And third… after three moves, it would be Hun Tiandi's turn to counter. And when he did, she'd be the one humiliated.
She was fighting a youthful Dou Sheng. No matter how much she tried, she couldn't win.
Better to surrender now with dignity than be crushed later.
There was no shame in conceding to someone like him.
Refusing to give up until you're completely flattened—that would be shameful.
Seeing her concede, Hun Dun stepped out to make it official.
"Hun Doulou has surrendered. The first match goes to Hun Tiandi."
Hun Tiandi heard the announcement. He glanced at Hun Doulou. Then he looked at Hun Dun, the referee.
He was fuming.
His hand, still gripping the wooden sword, clenched tightly into a fist.
"Tch…"
With a cold snort, Hun Tiandi turned into a streak of light and shot away.
This time... I'll just consider myself unlucky.