Douluo: Seven Asuras

Yu Tianlong was a 34th-level Soul Elder, possessing a mutated, fire-element Blue Lightning Tyrant Dragon spirit—an elite among top-tier martial spirits.

His three opponents, the triplet brothers, were each around level 32.

At first glance, the level difference didn't seem drastic. But factoring in spirit quality and soul ring age, Yu Tianlong stood head and shoulders above them. It was a complete one-sided suppression.

The triplet brothers could only struggle to endure. In such a cramped steel cage, even trying to dodge was an extreme challenge.

"Yu Tianlong! Yu Tianlong!"

From the audience stands, waves of cheers erupted each time Yu Tianlong gained the upper hand, drawing blood with every strike.

Pisi Nuo City was just a small border town in the Heaven Dou Empire. Though it wasn't short of wealthy individuals, most of them rarely had the chance to witness a Blue Lightning Tyrant Dragon in action.

And that was exactly why this underground soul arena was thriving.

Ever since Yu Tianlong joined, spectators had come flocking from far and wide. Every time he beat his opponents to a bloody pulp, wealthy patrons would shower him with generous tips.

He quickly became the Soul Arena's star attraction, boasting an almost perfect win rate. For every match, 90% of the bets were placed on him.

But today...

Yu Tianlong, tall and powerfully built, sent one of the triplets flying with a single whip-like kick, blood spraying from the man's mouth.

From his private booth, Chen Feng noticed that throughout the battle, Yu Tianlong hadn't used his right arm once.

"Looks like the injury he suffered back in the clan was serious... he can't even channel spirit power through that arm."

And yet, even handicapped, the might of a top-tier beast spirit was undeniable. Not even three opponents attacking in unison could gain the upper hand.

Yu Tianlong had once been one of the most outstanding talents of the Blue Lightning Tyrant Dragon clan, equal in potential to Yu Tianheng and Yu Tianxin.

Now, his brutal combat style had the crowd howling. Blood sprayed with each strike, and he looked every bit the savage, unstoppable berserker.

Just then, a light flashed.

Yu Tianlong, ever alert, caught sight of three red lights flashing from the direction of the referee's booth—a pre-agreed signal from the soul arena's owner.

For the sake of profits, this match was meant to be a loss.

A wave of humiliation surged through Yu Tianlong's chest.

Once a prodigy of his clan, now reduced to this?

The gap between past and present was so massive it nearly broke him. But he could only grit his teeth and endure.

After being expelled from the clan, it was this soul arena that had taken him in. Though it was all for business, he couldn't deny they gave him a way to survive.

Clenching his right arm, Yu Tianlong halted his offensive.

From an outsider's perspective, it looked like his old injury had flared up again, forcing him to retreat.

At that exact moment, a vicious claw slashed through the air—splat!—a bloody gash appeared across Yu Tianlong's chest.

He grunted in pain and staggered back.

The triplets wasted no time, once again activating Bloodlust, their claws raining down in a frenzy.

Slash! Slash!

Yu Tianlong's upper clothes were instantly shredded to tatters, and crimson lacerations quickly covered his torso.

In under thirty seconds, Yu Tianlong was knocked back into the iron cage, then slumped to the ground.

Ding-ling-ling!

The referee's bell rang immediately. The match was over.

Just like that—it ended with a whimper.

The arena fell silent.

And then came the tidal wave of outrage.

"The hell? Why did Yu Tianlong suddenly lose?!"

"He was thrashing those guys a second ago—and now he's getting bodied? That's so fake!"

"My money! I bet everything I had on him! Now I'm ruined!"

"Damn it, I can't believe Yu Tianlong would throw the match like this. Refund our money!"

"…"

Furious spectators shouted and roared. Trash rained down—banana peels, melon rinds—thrown at the cage as angry demands for refunds filled the air.

Yu Tianlong's body hung limp like a noodle, supported on both sides by staff as he was carried offstage.

His head hung low, hair disheveled, expression unreadable.

More garbage struck him as the crowd flipped him off, cursing. This once-proud direct-line descendant of the Blue Lightning Tyrant Dragon clan remained silent.

At the first corner beyond public view, the moment he was out of sight, Yu Tianlong's "severely injured body" suddenly snapped upright.

His massive frame loomed a full head above the staff members beside him.

"Outta my way!"

With a low growl, he shoved them aside and stumbled toward the lounge.

In the VIP booth, Chen Feng had watched the whole thing unfold in silence.

Back in the arena, the host was forced to face the music.

He braced himself and walked back onto the stage, declaring:

"Ladies and gentlemen, in the ten years since this soul arena was founded, there has never been a fixed match—not in the past, not now, and never in the future!"

"Yu Tianlong is known to be injured. If not for that, why would a man with the world's strongest beast spirit be fighting in a backwater town like ours?"

"Placing bets is a personal choice. Win or lose, we ask that everyone remain rational. Now, let's all congratulate our new champions—the Balato Triplet Brothers!"

…

Chen Feng didn't bother watching any further.

From this single match, he had gained a much deeper understanding of Yu Tianlong.

Life after exile had not been kind to this former prodigy.

"It's time to go meet him."

—

Backstage Lounge

Using the power of cold, hard cash, Chen Feng easily bribed the staff and located Yu Tianlong's private room.

After all, money was the one thing the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Sect had in abundance. As an honorary elder of the sect, Chen Feng never traveled light.

Creak—

Chen Feng pushed open the lounge door.

The room was simple: a few sofas and a tea table. Yu Tianlong sat on a sofa, quietly applying ointment to his wounds.

"Leave the medicine on the table."

Hearing someone enter, Yu Tianlong didn't even look up.

A calm voice came from beneath Chen Feng's cloak:

"Is this really how you plan to spend your life?

A Blue Lightning Tyrant Dragon spirit—reduced to a jobber in a soul arena.

Aren't you tired of this?"

Yu Tianlong froze. He looked up, eyes filled with alertness.

"Who are you?"

"The man who's going to change your fate," Chen Feng replied.

"Hmph."

Yu Tianlong frowned in irritation.

"Spare me the theatrics. I don't care who you are—please leave my room."

Chen Feng smiled faintly and raised his hand, pulling back the oversized hood.

A clear, youthful face was revealed—black hair cascading down, lips pressed together, still carrying a trace of boyish softness.

Yu Tianlong stared, stunned.

A teenager?