Xiao Tianyang stepped onto the stage next.
But the bizarre, unstoppable momentum of Edward's victories—overcoming every obstacle in his path—had already intimidated many of the smaller academies, silencing their earlier schemes.
Even Godwind Academy had failed to halt his advance, yet today, he was being challenged by an academy that had lost nine out of ten battles.
It was strange, to say the least.
Yet, despite the oddity, the opposing team had accepted the challenge. Xiao Tianyang had no reason to refuse.
The real reason he had taken the stage himself, however, was a nagging suspicion—something about this didn't feel right.
'How could a team with an average soul power of level 37 possibly have the confidence to challenge me?' Even as he stood on the stage, Xiao Tianyang couldn't shake the unease.
One thing was certain: this team wasn't here to compete.
Their legs trembled slightly—fear. Their eyes darted away, refusing to meet his gaze—evasion.
With such a mentality, how could they possibly fight?
Xiao Tianyang didn't believe it for a second.
But no one answered his silent questions.
Instead, at the referee's signal, the opposing team charged at him—recklessly, without any strategy.
No feints, no tactics. Just a full-frontal assault.
Xiao Tianyang was baffled.
But then, as they closed in, he caught a flicker of emotion in the opposing captain's eyes.
It was fear.
Not the fear of defeat—but the fear of death.
"No… Someone's setting me up!" Realization struck like lightning. Xiao Tianyang's expression darkened.
In an instant, his body exploded backward as Cong Yunqie slammed into the ground with devastating force.
"BOOM!"
A shockwave erupted, scattering like a tsunami, crashing into the five charging opponents and sending them flying.
Yet—they were unharmed. Only their hair whipped wildly as their bodies were flung back.
But then, something even more chilling happened.
The five of them—their eyes burned with resolve.
Xiao Tianyang sensed it immediately—their soul power was reversing.
'They're committing suicide!'
"PFFT!"
Blood sprayed from their mouths simultaneously as they collapsed.
The two auxiliary-type soul masters, who had remained motionless the entire time, immediately cried out: "We admit defeat!"
The referee wasted no time. "Winner—the Whitebeard Team, Edward!"
Victory.
Yet beneath his mask, Xiao Tianyang's face was grim. There was no triumph—only cold fury.
The referee, sensing the tension, glanced back—only to find the five opponents still motionless on the ground.
"They are dead!"
One of the auxiliary soul masters shrieked, pointing an accusing finger at Xiao Tianyang.
"You killed them!"
Alarmed, the referee rushed forward, pressing a hand to one of the fallen fighters. His face paled.
Soul energy pulsed from his fingertips as he checked the bodies—confirming the worst.
"They're really dead…" The referee was stunned.
He had been right there. He had seen everything.
Xiao Tianyang's strike had been controlled—non-lethal.
So why were they dead?
Xiao Tianyang exhaled sharply, his mind racing.
'Someone can't wait anymore to make their move.'
'But why sacrifice five lives?'
'Five young souls, full of potential.'
He was no stranger to killing—but he never killed without reason. His creed was simple: "If others do not provoke me, I will not provoke them. If they strike first, I strike back."
Yet these five had nothing to do with him.
They were pawns. Sacrificed by unseen hands to frame him.
He wasn't a saint—but this was despicable.
"Referee," Xiao Tianyang stepped forward, voice low. "What was the cause of death?"
"Their soul power was in chaos—it was reversed."
Xiao Tianyang nodded. "Exactly as I thought."
The referee met his gaze, then looked back at the bodies. "But they died after fighting you…"
His tone was heavy—a silent warning.
"You've been set up." Xiao Tianyang understood.
"Thank you," he murmured.
Then, with a flick of his windbreaker, he turned and walked away.
…
The audience had seen everything.
Some were confused—any fool could tell Xiao Tianyang had held back.
Others were smug—those who feared his rise, who dreaded another power upsetting the balance of the Douluo Continent.
And then there were those whose faces darkened with fury.
Among them—Ning Fengzhi and Gu Rong in the VIP seats.
And in the competitor's area—Tang San, Huo Wu, and the others.
"This was planned," Tang San muttered, fists clenched. "The moment they attacked, Edward knew something was wrong. He retreated—but they rushed him, forcing his hand."
"Then how did they die?" Ma Hongjun asked, uneasy. "They couldn't have taken poison before the match—that's forbidden."
Oscar shook his head. "No poison. That would've been detected."
Yu Xiaogang's voice was grim. "It was soul power reversal. Instant death."
"Xiao Tianyang's in trouble." At the edge of the group, Saber remained expressionless. Quietly, she slipped away.
Zhu Zhuqing's breath hitched. "How do we help him?"
In her worry, she'd forgotten to hide her connection to Xiao Tianyang.
Flender cut in sharply. "We can't. And not directly for sure."
His gaze was steely. "But don't underestimate Edward's backing. Whoever's behind this will regret it."
Liu Erlong's temper flared. "Stay calm. Right now, you represent Shrek Academy. Any reckless moves will only make things worse."
The three teachers exchanged glances.
They knew the truth—Edward was Xiao Tianyang.
And behind him stood Miao Zhenshan, the Tyrant Body Douluo.
His life wasn't in danger.
But his identity—and his chance to continue the tournament—was at risk.
This was a trap set up by others.
One designed to force him out of the competition… Or to break him.
…
If you'd like to support me and gain access to advanced chapters, you can follow the link:
patreon.com/DarkLord621