Douluo; Zhongli Adventures in Mortal World with Paimon

The city of Spirit Hall was in an uproar.

The Douluo Continent was undoubtedly a place that revered martial strength, but when faced with such beautiful poetry, they found themselves completely defenseless.

It was precisely because of this reverence for martial prowess that their cultural and artistic expressions were somewhat lacking.

Even thirty thousand years later, a song by Tang Wulin could still move people's hearts, which spoke volumes…

But compared to the poetry of an immortal poet, Tang Wulin's songs were nothing, not even in the same league.

With the emergence of this poem, it was destined to be passed down through the ages.

Inside the Papal Palace, Bibi Dong held a piece of paper in her hand, her eyes shimmering with emotion as if lost in thought.

After a long pause, she let out a sigh.

Her past was filled with pain and regrets, her life had been ruined half by Yu Xiaogang and the other half by Qian Xunji. Truly, a lamentable fate.

"If only you had appeared thirty years earlier, things wouldn't have come to this."

Of course, Bibi Dong had no romantic feelings for Zhongli, and her words did not carry any undertones of love.

It was just that, after witnessing a truly extraordinary person, how could she have ever fallen for someone like Yu Xiaogang?

Did Yu Xiaogang possess such talent?

If she had never fallen for Yu Xiaogang, none of the subsequent tragedies would have happened.

That was why she spoke such strange words.

"Was this poem written for Xue'er?"

Only her daughter, Qian Renxue, was worthy of such verses.

It seemed that, despite their strained relationship, mother and daughter still shared a similar train of thought.

After a moment, Bibi Dong seemed to think of something, a faint smile appearing on her lips, though she said nothing more.

If Zhongli truly admired Xue'er, then someone like him would be a perfect match for Qian Renxue.

Though she did not love her daughter, she still wished for her happiness.

Meanwhile, at the hotel where the Shrek Academy group was staying, everyone was also savoring this poem.

Even Liu Erlong's expression was strange.

The impression they had of Zhongli was that he was overwhelmingly powerful, terrifyingly so.

He did possess some scholarly knowledge, but it was always in an unorthodox, eccentric way.

Especially his so-called "philosophical sayings," which were nothing but twisted reasoning and absurd rhetoric.

But now, with this poem, even Tang San couldn't find a single flaw in it. This unsettled him greatly.

As an "assassin," most of the knowledge he had learned was related to killing techniques, or the redundant nonsense from the Mysterious Heaven Treasure Record.

At the same time, he did have some familiarity with classical texts, but only at a superficial level. And in this case, his "superficial knowledge" was truly just that, superficial.

From the structure to the imagery, this poem was beyond anything Tang San could ever hope to achieve.

Clenching his fists, Tang San felt as if he had just punched a ball of cotton, his efforts were completely ineffective, leaving him fuming with frustration.

"How can he write such a poem?!"

"How is that even possible?!"

He could accept that Zhongli was more powerful, that he cultivated longer, had stronger martial souls, and had better opportunities. Tang San could begrudgingly acknowledge all that.

But poetry had nothing to do with any of those things!

Just because someone lived longer didn't mean they could compose poetry!

Jealousy twisted his face.

Right now, Tang San was the embodiment of that emotion.

"Brother San, you're the smartest among us. Why don't you write a poem to criticize this Martial God Douluo?"

Ma Hongjun, his face filled with indignation, glared at the paper in his hands as he spoke to Tang San.

Hearing this, the others instinctively turned to look at Tang San, eager to hear his response.

Tang San: "…"

Anyone who didn't know better might think Ma Hongjun was a spy sent by the enemy!

Wasn't this deliberately making things difficult for him?

He knew his own limits.

Write a poem to criticize Zhongli?

If Tang San was capable of that, would he be seething with frustration right now?

"Poetry is just a minor art!"

"We are soul masters. We should focus on cultivating our soul power. Let's concentrate on our training and not waste time on such trivial matters."

Tang San spoke with a straight face, though inside, his heart was bleeding.

If he could compose poetry, he would. But he simply couldn't!

"Brother San, what's wrong?"

"Why are you shaking?"

Xiao Wu, standing behind Tang San, noticed his slight tremble and asked curiously.

Everyone: "…"

Tang San: "o.0"

At first, they were inclined to believe that Tang San had a point.

But seeing his reaction, it was clear, he simply couldn't compose poetry. He was just throwing a fit out of frustration and pretending not to care.

Everyone exchanged knowing glances but chose not to expose him since he was one of their own.

"Brother San is right. As soul masters, we should focus on cultivating our soul power!"

Ma Hongjun declared firmly, his tone unwavering. However, deep in his eyes, there was a flicker of disdain.

Even a literary illiterate like him could tell that Zhongli's poem was truly exquisite.

He might not understand why, but he knew it was extraordinary!

Yet Tang San dismissed it as "just a minor art"? That was quite something…

Zhongli had reached the pinnacle of human cultivation. Was he not allowed to study poetry and music in his free time?

Then, as if struck by a revelation, Ma Hongjun's eyes widened.

"Oh, I see!"

"Zhongli reached the peak of humanity, which is why he spends his days enjoying poetry and music!"

"This is the life I dream of!"

Maybe… maybe he shouldn't cultivate anymore?

Zhongli only indulged in such pleasures after reaching Rank 99, possibly even touching the boundary of Rank 100.

But Ma Hongjun was only in his forties…

If he started indulging now, wouldn't he be skipping decades of effort?

Wouldn't he be saving himself from a lifetime of struggle?

Just as this thought surfaced, Ma Hongjun immediately dismissed it.

His teacher's vengeance was yet to be avenged. How could he abandon cultivation so easily?

At the very least, he had to take revenge for his teacher before thinking about anything else!

But to take revenge, he had to defeat Yu Yuanzhen…

Yet Yu Yuanzhen was Liu Erlong's uncle…

And Liu Erlong was the person his teacher loved most…

This was such a mess!

Ma Hongjun fell into deep contemplation.

"Brother San is right. As soul masters, we should focus on our training!"

Dai Mubai nodded in agreement.

But deep in his eyes, there was a trace of unease, proof that he wasn't entirely convinced by his own words.

In the finals, they would likely face that man.

If that happened, what should they do?

"What must I do to survive?"

Dai Mubai was also lost in thought.

Tang San and Ma Hongjun had promised to help him, but without a Zhu family partner, he could never unleash the full potential of the Hell White Tiger.

Dai Mubai knew all too well how powerful the Hell White Tiger was.

It was only natural for him to doubt Tang San and Ma Hongjun's ability to compensate for that missing strength.

After all, he was a prince of the Star Luo Empire, raised with a different kind of education.

To him, the Hell White Tiger was one of the strongest forces in the world.

Liu Erlong glanced at the paper in her hands, then at Tang San, but said nothing in the end.

Instead, she tucked the paper away, returned to her room, and began cultivating.

"What's wrong with Teacher Erlong?"

The group was puzzled by Liu Erlong's strange behavior.