Douluo Continent: The Underworld Emperor Halosa Lets Three Fly

Chapter 291 I'm Going to Be a Father Too

Inside the Temple of Reincarnation, time seemed to stand still. Tang Wulin slumped to the ground, his heavy breathing unusually clear in the empty hall. Cold sweat trickled down his forehead, leaving small, dark stains on the floor. After the extreme fear came a numbness bordering on exhaustion.

Harosa didn't urge him; he simply stood quietly before the throne, like a patient audience member, waiting for the actors on stage to calm themselves down. After a long while, he slowly spoke, his voice calm, even carrying an indescribable, almost judgmental tone: "Speaking of which, you are perhaps the most normal one in your Tang family."

These words seemed abrupt, yet strangely, they calmed Tang Wulin's wildly beating heart slightly. He subconsciously looked up at Harosa, his eyes still lingering with fear.

Harosa met his gaze and continued, his tone still calm: "My impression of you is indeed slightly better than that of Tang Hao and Tang San."

He seemed to be stating an objective fact, "To be honest, aside from your background, there is no direct entanglement between us. There is nothing about you that I absolutely must have. If you were just an ordinary person born in the Douluo Continent today, you might be able to live a peaceful and happy life in the current environment."

His words were like a dull knife, slowly cutting into Tang Wulin's taut nerves. This was not comforting, but a more chilling, condescending scrutiny.

"It's a pity," Harosa changed the subject, a hint of regret in his voice, but this regret was as cold as the radiation of the starry sky, "You are Tang San's son. What's even more regrettable is that you also inherited his position as the Sea God."

Upon hearing the words "the Sea God's position," Tang Wulin's body trembled slightly. It seemed to be the first time he had so clearly realized that his greatest "original sin" was not his personal feud with Harosa, but rather his innate identity and power.

Harosa's almost indifferent gentleness actually calmed Tang Wulin's extreme fear. He wasn't stupid; in this desperate situation, reason began to return with difficulty. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down, his voice still slightly hoarse, and tentatively asked, "You—are you also doing this for the Douluo God Realm? You want me—to guide the God Realm back?"

This was the only value he could think of that he might have to Harosa.

Harosa neither immediately confirmed nor denied it. With a wave of his hand, a set of antique and elegant jade dining table and tea set appeared between the two of them.

On the table were several plates of exquisite pastries and a pot of steaming tea. The pastries and tea leaves exuded a rich spiritual energy, clearly rare and precious items that would greatly benefit even a god-level expert in restoring their divine power.

"Have something to eat." Harosa spoke as if he were entertaining an ordinary guest. He released Tang Wulin from his restraints, leaving only the most basic seal to prevent him from escaping or self-destructing. "You can't escape from here. In that case, why not relax and enjoy—these last moments?"

The words "the last moments" pierced Tang Wulin's heart like an ice pick, causing his hand, which had just picked up a pastry, to tremble violently, almost dropping it.

He sat down in silence, stiffly putting the pastry into his mouth. It tasted like cardboard, but he could feel the pure energy melting in his body, replenishing his nearly depleted divine power.

Watching Tang Wulin eat mechanically, Harosa casually responded to his earlier question: "Yes, everything I've done is ultimately for the Douluo God Realm, for your father, Tang San."

This answer brought no relief; instead, it filled Tang Wulin with a suffocating despair. He put down his teacup, his fingertips trembling slightly, his voice choked with barely suppressed sobs: "I—I don't want to die."

This is the most straightforward, yet most powerless, plea.

Born into a noble family and regarded as a chosen one of heaven since childhood, even after experiencing three thousand years of hardship, he still has a deep attachment to and fear of life that far exceeds that of ordinary people.

For him, who once possessed everything, death was the ultimate terror.

Upon hearing this, Harosa did not mock him. Instead, he chuckled softly, though there was no warmth in his laughter. He then changed the subject, bringing up a seemingly unrelated topic: "You are actually a pitiful child." His self-awareness seemed to transcend time and space, carrying a hint of insight. "You grew up without parents to love you. Although you had a foster father, there was still a distance between you."

Tang Wulin instinctively wanted to refute, wanting to mention the kindness that Qingtian Douluo Yun Ming had shown him, treating him like his own son.

His other uncles and elders treated him very well, though they always maintained a certain level of respect towards him.

But Harosa didn't give him a chance to speak, continuing, his tone unusually tinged with a very faint, personal emotion: "My wife, she's pregnant. I'm about to become a father."

He paused, his gaze refocusing on Tang Wulin, his expression complex and unreadable: "I won't be like Tang San, scheming against my own flesh and blood for the sake of some so-called bigger picture or some so-called purpose. From this perspective, your sister Tang Wutong, and you, are both very—unfortunate."

These words may have stemmed from some feelings arising from the impending prospect of becoming a father.

But whatever the original intention, it was indeed like a key that unlocked some of the grievances and resentments that had been suppressed deep in Tang Wulin's heart.

His sister's seemingly glamorous life was actually fraught with helplessness; his own vague longing for his parents since childhood and the complex emotions he felt after learning the truth; he was merely an abandoned child, lacking fatherly love yet forced to bear the harm inflicted by his father.

The fear in his eyes was gradually replaced by emptiness and confusion. He murmured, "What's the point of saying all this? I'm still going to die eventually."

Seeing the almost resigned dejection in Tang Wulin's eyes, Halosa stood up, walked to his side, and unexpectedly patted his shoulder gently.

This gesture is not intimate; rather, it carries a sense of final "mercy" from a sovereign towards something about to pass away.

"I govern reincarnation." Harosa's voice was deep and carried a strange, soothing power, though behind this soothing lay inevitable destruction. "I will arrange a good place for you. Your soul will not suffer like Tang Hao's."

Upon hearing the words "soul scattered" and the name of his grandfather Tang Hao, Tang Wulin's body trembled violently.

He looked up into Harosa's deep eyes, which were like the very essence of reincarnation. In them, he saw no deception, only a calm statement of facts.

A sense of indescribable relief, mixed with immense sorrow and helplessness, slowly rose in his eyes.

Yes, for a loser, especially an enemy like Harosa, to promise to preserve his soul and arrange for reincarnation is already an enormous "gift," isn't it?

Compared to his grandfather Tang Hao's suffering and the inability to even enter the cycle of reincarnation, he seems to be—already considered lucky?

The distorted "comfort" brought about by this comparison completely relaxed Tang Wulin's tense nerves.

He slumped into his chair, no longer speaking, staring blankly at the swirling runes of reincarnation on the temple dome, as if he had accepted his predetermined fate and awaited the "arrangement" that might come at any time.

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