When Tang San saw the ten figures before him, his expression instantly darkened. Shock and disbelief filled his voice as he asked,
"You… how did you all come here?"
Yu Tianheng stepped forward, placed a hand on Tang San's shoulder, and said,
"Ah San, we were invited as guests—to help you complete your final God Trial."
Dai Mubai also patted Tang San on the shoulder and added,
"Your ninth Asura God Trial requires us brothers to assist you in breaking through. You should be thanking us."
Tang San's face turned livid. He roared,
"What did you just say? My divine trial needs the help of you lot? Get out of my sight!"
Ma Hongjun threw an arm around Tang San's shoulder with a grin.
"Now, now, Ah San, don't be so sure. What if the contents of your God Trial come down later and you do end up needing us? What'll you do then, huh?"
Tang San glared hatefully at the ten of them, his tone dripping with contempt.
"Dai Mubai, Ma Hongjun, Oscar—without me, none of you would have achieved anything in your past lives! And as for you, Yu Tianheng, Dai Weisi, Feng Xiaotian… don't even start. Xue Beng, if not for me, you'd never have become Emperor of the Heaven Dou Empire!
Er Ming—your greatest contribution to me was offering up your spirit ring and bone through sacrifice.
Tai Long—what are you? You're nothing but a dog of the Tang family! Since when does a dog get to climb up and bark at its master?
And Bu Le, what noble bloodline or title do you think you have? You're just trash—how dare you stand before me?"
As he spoke, Tang San's voice grew darker and more venomous. His hateful gaze swept across all ten.
"I am the chosen child of destiny! The one selected by the Asura God himself! I was born to become a god—why would I ever need your help?"
After being viciously insulted, Dai Mubai and the others didn't grow angry. Instead, faint, knowing smiles spread across their faces.
"Oh my, oh my—our dear Ah San sure talks big," Yu Tianheng said playfully. "So you're confident you can finish your Asura God Trial without any of our help, huh?"
Tai Long cracked his knuckles and said,
"You're right, young master. The Power Clan has always been dogs of the Tang family… but this dog's changed its breed. I've become a wolf—a white-eyed wolf. Didn't you notice my body's a bit different now?"
Hearing that, Tang San finally noticed—Tai Long's once-broken arms had been fully restored.
"You—!"
"All thanks to you, young master," Tai Long said smugly. "If it weren't for you, I wouldn't have been made whole again."
"Thanks to me?" Tang San asked, confused.
Then rage overtook him. He clenched his fists, his long arms swinging like an ape's, pounding his chest as he roared like an enraged baboon,
"I'll kill you!"
He drew the Asura Divine Sword and thrust it straight toward Tai Long—
—but the blade pierced through the air as if Tai Long were made of mist.
Tang San froze. He withdrew the sword and stabbed again and again—each time, the sword passed through nothing.
He stood there, dumbfounded.
Suddenly, Tai Long's fist shot forward, slamming square into Tang San's face, sending him flying backward.
Defense broken!
Tang San was stunned. That lowly servant he had always looked down upon actually possessed Ultimate Duoluo-level strength!
Before Tang San could recover from the shock, Bu Le spoke up mockingly,
"Oh, our dear Ah San, I was never any noble. Just a street rat, a drifter. Not like you—the son of a top sect heir, Tang Hao of the Clear Sky Clan, and a mother with the exalted bloodline of the 100,000-year Blue Silver Emperor.
But tell me, Ah San—are you sure you don't need help from trash like me? What if you actually do?"
Tang San clutched his bruised face and snarled,
"There's no 'what if'! Even if I die, I'll never ask for your help! When I become a god, I'll make every one of you pay for this!"
"Good. Very good," Er Ming said coldly, clapping his hands. "You've got spine. Since you don't need our help, then we'll leave. I'll be waiting for the day you come crawling to me."
With that, Xiao Wu's male friends turned and walked away.
Xiao Wu hurried over, helping Tang San up anxiously.
"Ah San-gege, your divine trial is about to begin! I begged them to come help you—why did you drive them off?"
Tang San frowned. "Xiao Wu, what does my God Trial have to do with them?"
"But…"
"No buts," Tang San interrupted sharply. He glanced sideways at her. He could understand that she had done foolish things in her thirst for revenge against his biological father, but that man was already dead. Tang San had already avenged her mother.
Now, he felt it was time to reassert his authority as a husband.
"Xiao Wu, you are my wife. I hope you remember that. I won't hold the past against you."
"Alright, I'll listen to you, Ah San-gege," Xiao Wu said softly. "But… what if you do end up needing their help?"
"There's no way! Absolutely not! Do I look like that kind of man?" Tang San snapped, his face flushed purple with anger.
He got to his feet and continued walking deeper into the divine space.
Ever since he had killed his biological father, Tang San could feel Xiao Wu's attitude toward him shifting—becoming more like the Xiao Wu from his memories. But how could he ever truly accept her past?
Possessiveness gnawed at his heart. He couldn't stand that Xiao Wu had once been someone else's. Yet he loved her deeply.
And so, he made a decision—
Once he became a god, he would edit Xiao Wu's memories, reshape her body, and sever their martial soul fusion.
He would make her once again the pure, spotless Xiao Wu—
—the one whose eyes and heart held only him.
Two flowers bloom on separate branches — meanwhile, far across the sea, in the Slave Paradise…
The Gate of Rakshasa opened once again. Out of it stepped a man clad in dark violet armor, his skin jet-black, his limbs short and thick, and a crown made of feathers thrust into his hair. His face was smeared with ochre paint like a tribal chieftain from ancient times.
At this moment, his aura was unfathomable — the very essence of his being had long since transcended the realm of mortal soul masters. He had ascended to the level of a god.
"This… this is the power of divinity!" Tang Xiao murmured, reveling in the vast ocean of divine energy surging through his body.
Before entering the Rakshasa Gate, he had already been a Ultimate Duoluo, his strength surpassing even that of his grandfather, Tang Chen.
But only after becoming a god did he truly understand the difference between a mortal and a deity. In the eyes of gods, an Ultimate Duoluo was nothing more than a slightly larger ant — something that could be crushed between two fingers.
Standing atop the highest spire of the Slave Temple, Tang Xiao looked down at the countless "Slaves" laboring like tireless workers below. He raised his hands and declared proudly:
"Slaves! For your master, for your great chieftain Tang Xiao — who has ascended to godhood — shout your praises! Long live your god!"
At once, the countless Slaves below erupted in thunderous cries of "Long live!"
Tang Xiao then announced, "Next, I shall lead you all to the continent! We will conquer that land and turn this world into Tang Xiao's Slave Paradise!"
After his apotheosis, the Slaves chopped down every tree on the former Sea God Island, mined all its resources, forged warships and weapons, and assembled a million-strong Slave army.
The vast armada was now preparing to march upon the Douluo Continent.
The flagship stretched over a hundred meters long, and its sails bore an emblem — a fierce, ape-like image of Tang Xiao wielding the Rakshasa Scythe.
Holding that scythe, Tang Xiao led his high-ranking Slave warriors aboard. Behind him followed one such elite, Tang Tian, who dragged a long iron chain. At the other end of that chain was a crippled Slave — none other than Tang Hao.
Tang Hao was forced to crawl on the deck, his neck bound by an iron collar as Tang Tian pulled him forward, dragging him before the Rakshasa God, Chieftain Tang Xiao.
"Chieftain, your chain," Tang Tian said respectfully, handing one end of it to Tang Xiao.
Tang Xiao seized the chain and yanked Tang Hao close, sneering proudly:
"Mouse, do you see this? I am now the exalted Rakshasa God — and you? You're nothing but a broken-spined dog."
Tang Hao's eyes burned with jealousy. In his past life, the greatest he'd ever achieved was a second-class godhood, that of a mere plane ruler. True, at full strength he could fight a first-class god — but Tang Xiao was a first-class god.
Yet when he thought about the fact that Tang Xiao's divinity came from the Rakshasa God, Tang Hao's envy lessened somewhat.
He growled, "Tang Xiao, your pride will be short-lived. The Rakshasa God's position is only a first-tier seat. Once my son Tang San ascends to godhood and returns, it will be your turn to stand trial."
"Still so defiant?" Tang Tian snapped, cracking his whip down onto Tang Hao's back.
Tang Hao gritted his teeth, refusing to make a sound.
Tang Xiao waved his hand — he'd lost interest in simple torture. What he wanted most was to humiliate Tang Hao in front of Tang San — to destroy father and son both, body and spirit.
"Mouse, we'll see soon enough who judges whom. I'll show you despair deeper than the abyss itself. Now—on board!"
The Slave army boarded, and the fleet began its thunderous journey toward the continent.
Dark miasma poured endlessly from Tang Xiao's body, and wherever the ships passed, the skies grew black with storm clouds for hundreds of miles.
Sitting on his throne, chain in hand, Tang Xiao listened with perverse delight to Tang Hao's hoarse, trembling cries.
Suddenly, Tang Xiao lifted his head sharply, eyes narrowing.
He had sensed a foreign divine presence — a gate of light forming across space, the power of a god descending through a dimensional rift.
Tang Xiao tightened his grip on the Rakshasa Scythe, muttering:
"Could it be that brat Tang San, that beast's son, has become a god already? Hmph. I haven't even gone looking for him yet, and he dares to come to me first? Perfect — saves me the trouble."
But moments later, he dismissed that thought.
The divine energy was… complex — far too complex to belong to Shura.
It contained light and darkness, scorching fire and piercing frost, judgment and sin.
Six opposing forces, perfectly balanced — not Shura, but an unfamiliar deity.
Then, in the sky before the fleet, light condensed into form — a radiant temporal gate.
From it stepped a figure of breathtaking beauty — a twelve-winged angel, glowing like the sun piercing through storm clouds.
She appeared before the fleet, facing the endless sea, her back to the distant land.
Qian Renxue, the Angel God, descended.
She wore divine, ornate armor; six brilliant wings spread from her back, and behind her floated a radiant halo etched with sacred patterns — a halo of light bearing six more wings.
Her left wings shone in gold-white holy light; her right wings were veiled in a black aura of sin.
Conversely, the six wings on her halo were reversed — left black, right white. Twelve wings total, intertwined in a harmony of light and shadow, holiness and sin — the perfect duality of opposites.
When she emerged, the temporal gate behind her closed. Holy light interwove at her back, forming a floating divine throne.
She seated herself upon it, crossing her legs gracefully, divine power restrained, gazing down upon the vast Slave fleet below with serene majesty.
"The Angel God, Qian Renxue…" Tang Hao whispered, instantly recognizing her.
Lowering his head, he muttered, "So… she's ascended already too…"
"Qian Renxue, huh?" Tang Xiao smirked. So the little angel brat has become a god too.
He grinned savagely. "Fine then. Before I crush that nephew of mine, I'll devour her first — gain her divinity — and then deal with the Shura God."
"Bring the ship closer," he ordered.
The helmsman obeyed at once, steering the flagship toward the radiant figure.
As they neared, Tang Xiao leapt into the sky, Rakshasa Scythe in hand, rising to face Qian Renxue at a thousand-meter distance.
Below, Tang Tian held the chain now, forcing Tang Hao to kneel on deck. Tang Hao looked up at the two gods clashing in the heavens, heart racing with excitement.
"The Angel and the Rakshasa… ha! Yes, fight! Tear each other apart! The more you destroy one another, the smoother my son Tang San's path to godhood becomes!"
In the sky, Tang Xiao studied Qian Renxue — and she studied him in return.
When she finally saw his bizarre tribal appearance, even the composed Angel God nearly burst out laughing.
She'd seen the Rakshasa God before — fierce, demonic, terrifying in a dignified way. But this?
The so-called Rakshasa God before her looked like some primitive jungle chieftain who had stumbled out of an ancient tribe wearing a feather crown.