Douluo Continent: Tonight, a Fairy Tale Descends

Tang San raised an eyebrow.

He was thinking about a problem.

Tang Hao hails from the Clear Sky Sect, the birthplace of the world's number one weapon spirit. Even if his academic performance is terrible, shouldn't he at least know the basic common sense that plants need sunlight and water to grow?

The cave was cold and damp, without sunlight, rain, or even a breeze.

Planting blue silver grass here would be a miracle if it survived.

If Tang Hao really didn't know this, then Tang San really didn't know what to say.

He could only sigh in his heart: Tang Hao is so uncultured.

However, upon further reflection, Tang Hao was a direct disciple of the Clear Sky Sect, and he had been practicing hammer techniques since childhood. Iron forging, blacksmithing, and combat were his main professions.

As for not knowing that Blue Silver Grass needs sunlight to grow, it seems, perhaps, that's not something that's hard to understand, right?

Tang San withdrew his gaze and looked back at the Blue Silver Grass.

He had no feelings for Tang Hao.

This has remained unchanged since the blacksmith shop in Holy Soul Village.

Tang Hao had never taken care of him and Cinderella since they were young. Later, he left behind a letter and some money and disappeared for several years without even asking anyone to deliver a message.

He later returned, covered in wounds and filled with secrets, and bossed them around, ordering them here and there, training this and that, never caring whether they wanted to or not.

Tang San simply couldn't feel any affection for a father like that.

But A-Yin is different.

Ah Yin is his mother, the one who gave birth to him.

Although he has lived in this world for so many years, he has never seen her, never heard her say a word, and never felt her warmth.

But bloodline is something that can't be explained or defined.

When Tang San heard the name "A Yin" come out of Tang Hao's mouth, and when Tang Hao spoke of their past in a gentle tone that he had never heard before, Tang San's heart still stirred slightly.

But it was only for a moment.

His heart is too small; now it's already filled with people, and there's no room for anyone else.

Cinderella.

The person who had been by his side since the beginning of Holy Soul Village, the person who gave him warmth and support when he was most lonely and helpless.

His heart was already filled with that person.

There is no room for anyone else.

Tang San took a deep breath and suppressed those chaotic thoughts back into his heart.

He raised his right hand and slowly poured his soul power into the continuously releasing blue-silver domain.

The blue aura surged instantly, spreading outwards from Tang San's body, surging like waves into every corner of the stone chamber.

The moss on the cave walls shimmered faintly under the blue light, and the moisture in the air seemed to be dyed blue, turning the entire stone chamber into a clear blue.

The Blue Silver Grass swayed gently in this blue ocean, the golden veins on its leaves growing brighter and denser, as if greedily absorbing the life force around it.

Its blades, which were originally only about a foot long, are now shooting upwards at a speed visible to the naked eye.

One foot two inches, one foot five inches, one foot eight inches, two feet.

Then, it stopped.

No matter how much the Blue Silver Domain was activated, no matter how much soul power Tang San inputted, the Blue Silver Grass remained steadily at a height of two feet, refusing to grow any taller.

He glanced at the plant, then at Tang Hao.

Tang Hao remained squatting there, his cloudy eyes reflecting the blue light, his expression a complex mix of emotions.

There was surprise, anticipation, guilt, longing, and a hint of almost humble caution that even he himself was unaware of.

Tang San withdrew his gaze, squatted down, reached out, and gently touched the leaves of the Blue Silver Grass.

The moment my fingertips touched the leaves, an extremely gentle warmth emanated from the blades, flowing from my fingertips into my palm, and then slowly spreading throughout my body along my meridians.

The feeling was strange, like being hugged by something, or like someone whispering something in his ear, but he couldn't hear it.

Just then, a strange scene unfolded.

Among the blue silver grass, the two longest blades of grass actually began to move slowly.

They slowly rose up, like two tentatively outstretched hands. One wrapped around Tang Hao's wrist, while the other gently and carefully wrapped around Tang San's fingers.

Tang San's body stiffened slightly.

He didn't pull his hand away; he just squatted there, watching the blade of grass entwine around his finger.

The blades of grass were very thin and soft, so light that they seemed to break at the slightest touch.

But it wrapped around very carefully, one circle, two circles, three circles, and it only stopped after circling around three times. The tips of the leaves were even slightly upturned, as if to confirm whether he was still there.

An extremely gentle mental fluctuation appeared quietly, much stronger than that of ordinary Blue Silver Grass.

There were no specific words or clear images in that fluctuation; only a vague and extremely faint thought was being conveyed.

It conveys the most heartfelt thoughts.

Tang San's fingers curled slightly.

That thought was so gentle that it made his nose suddenly feel a little sore.

Tang San knew that this was a response from the depths of his bloodline, a human instinct, a longing for his mother.

But this desire came too suddenly, too intensely, so intensely that he could barely suppress it.

He took a deep breath, suppressing his surging emotions little by little.

Then, he withdrew his hand.

The blade of grass trembled slightly the moment his fingers loosened, as if trying to hold on, or perhaps feeling disappointed.

But soon it loosened, slowly drooping back onto the mound, returning to its previous quiet state.

Tang San stood up and glanced at Tang Hao, who was still squatting on the ground.

Tang Hao didn't move. The blade of grass was still wrapped around his wrist. His gaze was fixed on the blue silver grass. He remained motionless, as if afraid that it would disappear if he blinked.

Tang San did not disturb him.

He closed his eyes and sensed the blue silver domain within his body.

The field is still operating, but its effects are already negligible.

The blue silver grass stopped growing after it reached two feet.

What does this mean?

This means it's already saturated. At least for now.

Until a more effective method is found, injecting any more soul power is a waste.

Tang San withdrew his Blue Silver Domain, and the blue aura slowly faded, restoring the dim light to the stone chamber.

Only the pale gold gem in Tang Hao's hand was still emitting a soft light, enveloping the Blue Silver Grass in a warm halo.

"Father."

Tang San spoke, his voice not loud, but it made Tang Hao's body tremble slightly.

Tang Hao did not respond immediately. He gently untied the blade of grass from his wrist, carefully placed it back on the mound of earth, and smoothed the slightly curled edges of the blade with his palm before slowly standing up.

"Ah."

His voice was a little hoarse, and his eyes were still red, but his expression had returned to its usual coldness.

Tang San glanced at him but didn't say anything more.

Tang Hao turned around, facing the Blue Silver Grass, and took a deep breath.

"Little sister, do you know why your father was hunted down by the Spirit Hall back then?"

Tang San raised an eyebrow slightly. "You injured Qian Xunji."

“Not only that.” Tang Hao shook his head, his voice low and hoarse. “Qian Xunji led people to besiege your father and mother. It was your father who seriously injured Qian Xunji, and later he died from his injuries.”

Tang San remained silent.

He had already guessed most of these things on his way here.

Tang Hao continued, talking about the retreat of the Haotian Sect and his suffering.

His fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles turned white.

He turned around and looked at Tang San, his cloudy eyes burning with anger that had been suppressed for too long.

“Now that you’ve emerged from the City of Slaughter, your cultivation has reached the Soul Emperor level. Your sister’s cultivation is no less than yours. Your growth has been even faster than I anticipated.”

His voice rose a few decibels, echoing in the silent stone chamber.

"Right now, the Spirit Empire and the Anti-Spirit Alliance are locked in a fierce battle on the continent, and Bibi Dong's attention is tied up on multiple battlefields. This is the perfect opportunity for us to take our revenge!"

Tang San listened quietly without responding.

Tang Hao looked at him, a hint of urgency flashing in his eyes.

"Mistress, don't you want to avenge your mother?"

Tang San remained silent for a moment, and seeing Tang Hao's determined look as he didn't give up until he heard a satisfactory answer, he finally spoke: "I want to."

Tang Hao's eyes lit up.

"But I have a few questions."

Tang San looked at him, his deep eyes devoid of any superfluous emotion, only an extremely calm, deep-pool-like composure.

Who were the people who attacked you and your mother back then?

Tang Hao was stunned for a moment.

He opened his mouth, then closed it again.

His brows were furrowed, as if he were recalling something, or as if he were trying to search for long-forgotten fragments of memory.

"People from the Spirit Hall." That was all he could say in the end.