: The Unhealable and Bizarre Wound

The terrifying scene at Notting Academy was still deeply etched in Tang San's heart.

Just a few days after enrolling, he was attacked by members of the Spirit Hall.

If it weren't for the fact that his Tang Clan's unique skills from his previous life had already penetrated his very bones, and that his physical body and reflexes far surpassed those of ordinary people, coupled with his father Tang Hao's timely appearance and the powerful enemy being repelled with a single blow, he would have already lost his life in that academy.

Since then, the father and son have stayed away from the townspeople and hidden themselves in a remote and secluded forest, living in a makeshift wooden hut.

Tang Hao was no longer the drunken, taciturn man he used to be. He gave Tang San a cultivation manual from this world and told him to cultivate diligently.

But after silently comparing them, Tang San couldn't help but shake his head inwardly.

The Tang Clan's Mysterious Heaven Skill is profound and extensive, a top-tier internal skill that cultivates both internal and external strength and is endlessly regenerating, far surpassing this skill that only focuses on soul power transfer and has a shallow foundation.

He did not refuse outright, but quietly put the manual aside and continued to practice the Xuan Tian Gong day and night, never daring to relax for a moment.

·············

At dawn, the first rays of pale golden light appeared on the horizon, piercing through the thin mist in the forest and falling on the open space in front of the wooden house.

Tang San sat cross-legged, his eyes slightly closed, spiritual energy slowly circulating at his fingertips. The next instant, his eyes snapped open, a sharp, sword-like purple light flashing within them, disappearing in an instant—the Purple Demon Eye.

This Tang Clan eye technique cannot be mastered overnight; it requires daily, painstaking practice to gradually see through illusions and gain profound insight. Even with his comprehension and foundation, he could only proceed step by step, daring not to be impatient in the slightest.

With his cultivation session coming to an end, Tang San stood up and looked towards the path deep in the forest where his father had left, his brows furrowing slightly.

"Why hasn't Father come back yet...?"

A hint of worry, difficult to conceal, lingered deep in his eyes.

More than half a month has passed since Tang Hao left with the words "I have something to do outside" and turned to leave.

During this period, the man who had always been depressed and silent finally opened up to him a part of his long-buried past.

His mother, Ah Yin, was no ordinary Soul Master, but a rare 100,000-year-old Soul Beast in human form. She sacrificed herself to protect him and Tang Hao, and the culprit behind it all was the powerful and influential Spirit Hall. Furthermore, the Clear Sky Sect, because of what happened back then, suffered immense pressure from the Spirit Hall and ultimately chose to close its gates and live in seclusion…

Each and every incident was etched into Tang San's memory.

He hates the Spirit Hall.

He hated them for driving his mother to her death, for hunting down his father, for their absolute power and disregard for human life. The fire of revenge in his heart had never been extinguished since he learned the truth; it burned fiercely.

But Tang San was very clear-headed.

He understood better than anyone that the Spirit Hall was now a behemoth in the world of spirit masters, with countless experts and influence throughout the continent. Not to mention him, a child who had just awakened his spirit, even his father, who had once dominated the world, was now seriously injured and retired, and his condition was far from what it used to be. He was no match for the Spirit Hall.

Revenge can only be sought gradually.

But now, Tang Hao has been gone for more than half a month without any news.

The wind howled through the forest, and the leaves rustled, each sound like a pounding on Tang San's taut heartstrings. He forced himself to calmly cultivate, but the more he suppressed it, the more intense his unease became.

Just then—

"boom--!"

A dull thud of something heavy hitting the ground suddenly rang out outside the wooden house.

Tang San's expression changed drastically. Almost instinctively, he leaped out, unleashing his Xuan Tian Gong at full power, his movements as swift as a ghost.

The next second, his pupils shrank sharply.

A familiar yet disheveled figure crashed heavily to the ground, raising a cloud of dust.

It's Tang Hao.

But the man before her had long lost the domineering aura that once lingered in his bones, even when he was drunk.

He was covered in blood, his clothes torn to shreds, and deep, bone-revealing wounds crisscrossed his body. His once rugged face was as pale as paper, and his breath was extremely weak.

Tang Haofei flew back—using his last bit of strength, he forced his way back into the dense forest to return to his son's side.

Tang Hao couldn't even utter a complete sentence. His lips trembled slightly, his gaze fell laboriously on Tang San, and then he closed his eyes and fainted.

"Father!"

Tang San cried out in alarm, rushed forward, and reached out to support Tang Hao's body. His hand touched something warm and sticky, covered in blood.

He is a disciple of the Tang Clan.

He was skilled in both poisons and medicine. Medicine and poisons were originally from the same source and were never separated. In his previous life in the Tang Clan, pharmacology, medical skills, and first aid were compulsory courses for him.

Tang San quickly and steadily placed his fingertips on Tang Hao's pulse, probing it, while his eyes carefully scanned every wound on his father's body.

He had numerous external wounds, with skin and flesh torn open, a horrifying sight, yet none were fatal. He also had many old wounds and lingering ailments, clearly hidden dangers accumulated from the great battles and past illnesses.

With his medical skills, as long as there are medicinal herbs and time, it is not difficult for him to slowly treat and save the patient.

But when his gaze fell on Tang Hao's arm, Tang San's brows furrowed tightly, and his heart sank.

It was a horrific wound, deep enough to expose the bone, dripping with blood, and with the flesh torn open—a truly shocking sight.

Tang San immediately took out some simple herbs he carried with him, crushed them, applied them to the wound, and then used Tang Sect techniques to press and stop the bleeding, circulating his internal energy to regulate his blood and qi. But no matter how hard he tried, the wound continued to bleed profusely, and he couldn't stop it at all. What was even more terrifying was that the edges of the wound were slowly widening, as if some strange force was constantly eroding and tearing at the flesh.

This condition is never seen in ordinary external injuries.

Tang San felt a chill in his heart.

"Is this... a special effect of a soul skill?"

Having lived in this world for a long time, he had long understood the unpredictable and mysterious nature of soul power and soul skills.

He activated his Purple Demon Eye, focusing intently on the wound, trying to see through its hidden depths. However, his eye technique had not yet reached its peak, unable to penetrate damage at the soul level, and he couldn't discern the true root of the wound.

The only thing that can be confirmed is that this injury was not inflicted by an ordinary Soul Master.

As expected of father and son, Tang San's first thought was also—

Spirit Hall!

Suppressing his hatred, Tang Sanqiang carefully carried the heavily injured and unconscious Tang Hao into the wooden house, placed him on the simple wooden bed, treated his other wounds, covered him with a thin blanket, and then lit a bonfire in the house. The warm and dry atmosphere slightly dispelled the cold.

Tang San stayed by the fire, not daring to leave for a moment. Finally, unable to hold on any longer, he leaned against the bed and slowly fell asleep.

I slept very lightly.

When Tang Hao opened his eyes again, it was already bright daylight; it was the next morning.

The first thing Tang Hao felt was the excruciating pain in his right arm; to be precise, he was actually awakened by the pain.

Even though a night had passed, the injury on my right hand not only did not improve, but became more serious and more painful, as if it had penetrated to the bone marrow, no... to the soul.

The pain felt as if my very soul was being torn apart.

"Aaaaaah!!!" Tang Hao's first sound upon waking was a scream.

"My hand, what happened..." Tang Hao now understood that Bibi Dong's soul skill back then was not simple.

However, he only thought it was some kind of powerful toxin, and that it could be resolved by finding a healing soul master.

Even if all else fails, Yang Wudi, the patriarch of the Po clan under the Haotian Sect, was famous for his alchemy and medicine making, and he could use that to detoxify the poison.