Douluo Continent: The Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Pagoda? A Soul Beast Pagoda!

Chapter 63 When carrying out a mission, the title is referred to as such.

Qian Renxue looked down at him.

Her eyes were as cold as eternal ice.

"The City of Slaughter?" she repeated softly, a faint yet chilling smile playing on her lips. "You think you're worthy to go there?"

The tip of the sword was gently pushed forward.

laugh.

The pleas for mercy abruptly ceased. Golden flames spread from the wound, instantly engulfing the fallen man.

The battle ended quickly.

Of the twenty-three who fell, none survived.

The knights began to silently clean up the battlefield, gathering the black-robed corpses into an open space.

Some team members unleashed their scorching flame soul skills, preparing for cremation.

Tian Yue walked to Qian Renxue's side, took off her helmet, and sweat dampened a few strands of her golden hair.

She looked at the raging flames, then at Qian Renxue's icy expression, hesitated for a moment, and finally spoke: "Sister Xue—"

"Tian Yue," Qian Renxue interrupted her, her gaze still fixed on the flames, "when carrying out a mission, refer to your position."

'

'

Tian Yue pursed her lips and changed her words, "Captain, didn't we—were we too absolute in our actions? According to precedent, we should capture and escort the Fallen Ones who surrendered voluntarily and did not cause significant casualties to the Killing City. But this time—we didn't leave a single survivor."

She did not sympathize with these degenerates.

Every member of the Holy Knights has the blood of the fallen on their hands.

She just felt that this—seemed—

Qian Renxue slowly turned her head to look at Tian Yue. The afterglow of the setting sun cast a deep shadow on her perfect profile.

"Stay? Why stay?"

Her voice was soft, yet carried a resolute tone.

"We have limited manpower and don't have the extra energy to guard the prisoners. There are too many variables during transport, and these rats in the gutter are best at taking advantage of every opportunity to escape or even turn the tables."

She paused, then turned her gaze back to the raging flames that were devouring the corpses, the flames dancing in her eyes.

"More importantly," Qian Renxue's voice suddenly turned cold, carrying a chill that penetrated to the bone, "fallen into depravity is an irreversible stain. Once the soul is tainted by darkness and the blood is soaked in sin, there is no turning back. If you spare his life today and send him to the killing capital, he may return tomorrow in an even more ferocious manner, slaughtering even more innocent people."

"If they are degenerates once, they will be degenerates for life. We must not be lenient with them."

Qian Renxue gripped the hilt of her sword tightly, her knuckles turning slightly white. Her voice lowered, yet became even more resolute.

"To be lenient with these pests that tarnish the world is to be cruel to the victims. Only by eradicating them completely can we cut off the root of the problem."

"They didn't deserve to live."

Tian Yue stared blankly at Qian Renxue. At this moment, she saw in the eyes of her exceptionally talented older sister, whom she had grown up with since childhood, an almost obsessive and cold belief, as well as a trace of—deep-seated, unspeakable pain and anger.

Tian Yue fell silent. She stopped questioning and simply gave a solemn knightly salute: "I understand, Captain."

The flames crackled, turning the last filth to ashes.

After everything is dealt with.

Qian Renxue mounted her horse, her platinum armor still gleaming faintly in the darkness. She took one last look at the village, now quiet again, and turned her horse around.

"Keep moving on. Next place."

"yes!"

The sound of hooves rang out again, and the thirteen riders disappeared into the deep night.

Nottingham College.

A slender figure crossed the courtyard and came to a familiar wooden door.

Tang San gently knocked on the door: "Teacher? Are you there?"

-

No one answered.

He knocked again and raised his voice: "Teacher, I am Tang San."

It remained deathly silent.

Tang San frowned. He hadn't seen Yu Xiaogang for the past few days. He had assumed his teacher was either at the library researching or studying theory on his own, but his absence for several days in a row was unusual.

He tried pushing the door, and it wasn't locked; it creaked open a crack.

"Teacher?" Tang San lowered his voice and slipped inside.

The room was pitch black, with only the faint moonlight filtering through the window outlining the furniture.

A faint musty smell permeated the air.

"Purple Demon Eye!"

Everything in the darkness suddenly became clear. Several half-open books were lying on the table, the chair was tilted, and some papers were scattered on the floor.

He went to the table, found the oil lamp, and lit it.

The dim, yellowish light dispelled the darkness in one corner of the room.

"Where did the teacher go?" Tang San's doubts deepened. He looked around and his gaze fell on several crumpled and torn pieces of paper on the ground.

Out of curiosity, he bent down and picked up the two largest clumps, carefully unfolding and smoothing them out.

The paper was roughly torn in two, with jagged edges, but the writing on it was still clearly legible.

The cover reads, "Refutation and Revision of Several Issues Concerning the Theory of the Ten Core Competencies of Martial Souls".

"The Ten Core Competencies of Martial Souls?" Tang San raised an eyebrow. "Isn't this the teacher's work? How dare you criticize the teacher's book?"

A surge of anger welled up inside him. In his heart, Yu Xiaogang was the embodiment of wisdom and knowledge, one of the few people in the world who truly understood him and were willing to teach him. How dare someone openly write an article criticizing him?

"I see you're already courting death!" Tang San said through gritted teeth, a cold glint in his eyes.

He patiently pieced the torn pages back together and began reading by the light.

At first, he was dismissive. He wanted to see what kind of nonsense this author named "Jiang Xueer" could come up with.

But gradually, his brows furrowed more and more tightly.

The article begins with objective data on the differences in the quality of martial spirits and lists numerous examples.

The data is detailed and the citations are rigorous. Each argument is supported by at least three examples or research reports from different sources.

Tang San's fingers tightened around the paper.

He was not a fool; on the contrary, his experience of living two lives made him better at thinking and judging than his peers.

These data and cases are logically sound and difficult to refute.

He continued reading.

Each criticism was like a heavy hammer blow, striking Tang San's previously unwavering beliefs.

He was particularly shocked when he saw the author's refutation of the "Martial Soul Mimicry Theory".

"Impossible—" Tang San's voice trembled slightly. He shook his head violently, as if trying to shake off these "fallacies" that had invaded his mind.

"How could the teacher's theory be wrong! This person must be taking things out of context, or deliberately trying to discredit the teacher to gain fame!"

However, deep down, a corner of my heart began to waver.

The data was so detailed, the cases so real. It would have been impossible to create such a vast and self-consistent system if it were just fabricated.

He forced himself to stop reading, and tore the pages he had already pieced together to shreds again, sending paper scraps flying everywhere.

"Nonsense—utter nonsense!" Tang San's eyes were bloodshot, and he was panting heavily. "This Jiang Xue'er is already courting death!"

After a period of cathartic tearing, he forced himself to calm down.

"Oh, right, teacher!" he suddenly thought, "Could it be that the teacher saw this article, was so angry, and went to confront Jiang Xue'er?"

This thought made his heart tighten.

He quickly cleaned up the scraps of paper on the floor and tidied up the room as much as possible to restore it to its original state.

He couldn't let anyone see that something was wrong with the teacher.

"I'll go and inquire about it first thing tomorrow morning." He made up his mind, blew out the oil lamp, and quietly left the room, gently closing the door behind him.

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