Am I a mutant in soul land?

The Next Day,

"Today, two of the tournament's seeded teams—Martial Soul Hall Academy and Tian Dou Imperial Academy's Emperor Team—will clash in a long-awaited match. Let's find out who truly reigns supreme! Now—let's welcome both teams!"

The host's booming voice rippled through the coliseum, igniting a wave of cheers and roar.

From the Martial Soul Hall stands, Hu Liena, Xue Yue, and the boot licking Yan swaggered confidently into the arena. Their footsteps were light, their expressions smug, and the cheers rained down on them like applause from the heavens.

"Martial Soul Hall will definitely win!"

"It's them—the three top prodigies!"

Fans roared their support as if the outcome had already been decided. In contrast, the Emperor Team entered in silence, their presence drawing polite claps at best.

Tang San and Yu Tianheng walked side by side, silent but sharp-eyed. The rest of their teammates followed behind, their expressions strained—like actors forced into a play they didn't audition for.

Tang San, however, was beaming inside. Finally, a match where he was allowed to fight. In the last round, Yu Xiaogang had benched him, claiming he was their trump card to be used only against "worthy" opponents.

Now was his chance.

Yu Xiaogang stood proudly beside the Emperor Team's bench, chin lifted high like an emperor surveying groveling peasants.

His greasy grin stretched even wider when his eyes landed on the Lanba Team in the stands—especially Flender, who met his gaze with cold, unblinking murderous intention.

Sitting beside Tang Yin, Dugu Bo frowned and muttered, "Little monster, who's that pompous rooster glaring at us like he just laid the golden egg? Want me to break his nose for free?"

Tang Yin smiled inwardly. There you are, Yu Xiaogang. Time to show the continent who you really are—Useless waste.

But outwardly, Tang Yin replied nonchalantly,

"Just an old acquaintance of Lanba—

Yu Xiaogang. Son of Yu Yuanzhen, the sect master of the Blue Lightning Tyrant Dragon Clan. Petty, arrogant, and a complete waste of space. Best to just ignore him."

Dugu Bo nodded slowly, but his sharp eyes didn't leave Yu Xiaogang for a second who was showing off his student—Tang san.

Just then, VIP guests made their appearance.

Ning Fengzhi, Xue Qinghe, and Sword Douluo took their places in the VIP section, composed and observant.

And then came Bibi Dong, Graceful and eye-catching, her mere presence silenced the arena for a heartbeat. she slowly descended like a queen surveying her court. Flanked as always by two Titled Douluo—Yue Guan and Gui Mei.

Her eyes skimmed the stadium—then locked onto Yu Xiaogang.

He was in the middle of pulling an exaggerated expression toward Lanba Team, eyebrows waggling like a circus act. She blinked. At first surprised—then a ghost of a smile curved her cherry lips.

And so it begins, Tang yin thought as he sent a few highly questionable suggestions into Yu Xiaogang's mind via telepathy—ideas that were borderline criminal in nature.

Yu Xiaogang's grin twisted into something darker—almost deranged—as his gaze slid from Flender to Bibi Dong. Then, like a man possessed, he stalked toward Tang San, leaned in close, and whispered in his ear, never once breaking that unnerving, intense eye contact with her.

Bibi Dong's brow twitched in confusion. Watching Yu Xiaogang's antics, she found herself unsettled—he looked less like a grandmaster and more like a madman.

Yu Xiaogang raised his high-pitched voice, sharp enough to slice through the crowd's chatter, as he leaned in to whisper to Tang San. So much for whispering—

"We'll make them eat shit today—especially you, Tang San. Go all out. Blast that slimy mucus right into their smug faces. Cough up every drop of phlegm and spray it straight into their eyes. I want them gagging on regret—let this be the day that haunts them every time they dare look into a mirror!"

The entire stadium froze.

Even Bibi Dong blinked. Had she just heard what she thought she heard?

And just as the host asked both teams to enter the stage, Yu Xiaogang, in a move that defied explanation—grabbed Yu Tianheng by the face and planted a loud, passionate kiss right on his mouth Infront of everyone.

The coliseum collectively held its breath.

Moments later, Grandmaster yanked his own nephew into a bear hug—clinging to him tightly before shouting from the stands like a retarded cheerleader who forgot to take his pills.

Gasps echoed from the crowd.

No one dared comment, not because they accepted it—but because no one knew what the hell they had just witnessed.

Bibi Dong's expression collapsed into something unreadable. Her gaze flicked from Yu Xiaogang… to Yu Tianheng.

She froze.

She knew Tianheng—He was Yu Xiaogang's nephew. She also knew of Yu Xiaogang's love for Liu Erlong. But this? This was... something else entirely.

A storm brewed inside her, twisting fury and disbelief into something close to nausea.

Meanwhile, the host, utterly unfazed, kept going as if nothing had happened as both teams entered the venue.

Everyone cheered for the Martial Soul Hall.

The Emperor Team entered without fanfare. Their first two opponents had forfeited the moment they saw their seeded status, and the third match had been against a weak team that barely put up a fight. No one had seen what they were truly capable of—not yet.

The host tried to liven the mood. "What an electric atmosphere! The cheers for Martial Soul Hall are the loudest we've heard all tournament!"

He continued, hyping the match:

"Martial Soul Hall fields three Spirit Kings and four Spirit Ancestors. In contrast, the Emperor Team brought six Spirit Ancestors and one Spirit Elder."

As the countdown began, both teams tensed and moved into formation, eyes locked, soul power surging in anticipation.

And the moment the host shouted, "Begin!"

Tang San stepped forward—and released his martial soul. Three soul rings slowly hovered around him—White, Yellow, and Dark Yellow—each one glowing faintly with Soul Power.

From his right hand, a slimy, sticky mass began to crawl out, inch by inch—a grotesque, vine-like creature, writhing and twitching like it had been yanked straight from the depths of hell itself.

The moment it appeared, a putrid stench blanketed the arena—like rotting meat left to fester in swamp water. It clung to the air, thick and nauseating—It was Tang San's signature cologne of horror.

For a heartbeat, the crowd fell deathly silent.

Hu Liena's confident smirk snapped off her face as she instinctively covered her nose, eyes narrowing in visible disgust. She closed her eyes as the horrifying creature wasn't very eye friendly—Don't force me to blind myself.

Xue Yue staggered back half a step, his eye twitching like he was fighting back a scream. He gulped in discomfort as he saw the horrific vine splurted mucus— I don't want that thing anywhere near me! Can I quit?

Yan, who had been practically bouncing in excitement moments ago, turned an alarming shade of pale as the smell slammed into him like a hammer to the skull—Uhh! He vomited.

"What... the hell is that?" one of them muttered in horror, their voice died down as they heard the sound of the creature's wet, nauseating squelch.

The creature pulsed wetly in his hand, oozing thick strands of mucus, each drop splattering onto the ground with a sickening squelch—as if even the air itself recoiled in disgust.

The thing writhed violently in his grasp, mucus dripping in thick globs as jagged, pulsing vines twisted and thrashed with teeth-like barbs, as though it were alive… and hungry.

It didn't just look unnatural—it looked wrong, like something that should have stayed buried in a nightmare.

—and the entire coliseum shuddered in fear.

Bibi Dong subtly pinched the bridge of her nose, her expression darkening as the vile stench assaulted her sense of smell.

The creature pulsing in Tang San's hands was unlike anything she had ever seen—and not in a good way. Her brow beaded with sweat, and for a brief moment, Bibi dong genuinely felt the urge to vomit—This is your proud disciple?!

Ning Fengzhi and Sword Douluo, paragons of composure in the VIP stands, recoiled at the sight. The grotesque abomination oozing on the battlefield was so disturbingly unnatural, they had to resist the urge to look away—as if averting eyes might somehow invite a curse.

And then there was Qian Renxue—her composure hanging by a thread as She nearly yelped, her thoughts laced with disbelief:

"What the hell is wrong with this tournament?! First, two guys start making out on the arena, and now this? This is the most disgusting thing I've ever seen! Eww!"

Thankfully, Tang Yin had warned the girls in advance to shut their eyes at the beginning.

(They'd seen this abomination before—and that had been traumatic enough. No need to deepen their emotional scars by witnessing it again in all its mucus-dripping glory.)

The rest of the Emperor Team sprang into action—though none of them were particularly thrilled about Grandmaster's underhanded tactics or having Tang San as a teammate.

Tang San's first soul ring glowed as he dashed in the middle of the arena with a smug smile.

"First Soul Skill—Mucus Spit!"

Tang san launched a sticky blob to make the arena slimy and slippery which managed to make the Spirit Team embarrass themselves by slipping and sliding continuously as they fumbled to steady themselves.

"Third Soul Skill—Caecilian Pheromones!"

The vines emitted a noxious, shit-smelling cologne that filled the arena. Some viewers even vomited from disgust. The Spirit Team suffered the most, their eyes watering from the foul smell. It destroyed their sense of smell.

Immediately, Tang Yin provided masks through his soul tools to the Lanba girls and the others—Huo Wu, Shui Bing'er, and Yue'er—which earned him resentment from the others.

Back to the match,

The Emperor Team targeted the remaining Soul Ancestors from the Martial Soul Hall team—those who could be taken down quickly—and struck with ruthless efficiency.

They deliberately avoided the infamous trio, knowing they had no chance of defeating any of them in a single blow and wouldn't survive a prolonged exchange.

Bibi Dong's expression darkened as she watched the Emperor Team fall, one after another. Four out of the seven were already on the brink of defeat—all brought down by those despicable, underhanded tactics.

Beside her, Yue Guan and Gui Mei clenched their jaws in unison, eyes locked on the venue. "Such underhanded tactics… that damn Yu Xiaogang!" Yue Guan hissed.

Bibi Dong's gaze locked onto Hu Liena, who had taken the noxious stench full force at point-blank range. Her disciple wavered on her feet, clearly struggling—eyes watering, face contorted in discomfort.

Yu Xiaogang cheered loudly at their progress, even going so far as to taunt Bibi Dong along with Gui Mei and Yue Guan, who sat beside her. He turned and smacked his butt at them provocatively.

Bibi Dong's fists tightened in her lap. She gritted her teeth, eyes burning with disbelief.

How could Yu Xiaogang stoop this low? So petty. So shameless.

Her image of Yu Xiaogang as a perfect gentleman—caring, intelligent, dedicated, and scholarly—began to crack as the match wore on. With Hu Liena as her disciple, only one true emotional anchor remained for her from now.

"How underhanded!!!" the audience shouted in outrage, protesting the disgusting tactics used to defeat their opponents.

Other teams joined in, voicing their anger on behalf of the Martial Soul Hall Team, harshly reprimanding the Emperor Team.

Some even went as far as to insult Yu Xiaogang's mother, sparking a chain reaction. Everyone knew these dirty tricks were his doing, and soon the scorn spread to his entire generation.

Yu Xiaogang snorted loudly, his voice sharp and high-pitched as he retorted,

"What? Why do I only hear the cries of losers? If you're a loser, shut your stinky mouths. Only winning matters. What do I care if these fools lose? Why should I care if it's underhanded? Even if it is, what can you do to me?"

The losing team grew even more agitated by Yu Xiaogang's brazen rebuttal, hurling stones and sticks at him. He dodged frantically, then loudly blamed Martial Soul Hall for cheating.

"Ahh! So this is the oh-so-great Martial Soul Hall? If you can't defeat our team, you come after me? Pathetic! Sore losers led by an incompetent pope—who's a woman! Hahaha…"

That word was the last straw for Bibi Dong that broke her last shred of hope. She couldn't believe how she hadn't seen through this hypocritical bastard sooner—

After seeing Yu Xiaogang kiss his nephew, she knew he never loved her—just a hypocritical, child molester, and a sore loser.

Bibi dong had always thought that, despite his cowardice, he genuinely cared for her. But now, seeing through the mask, she realized he had only used her to gain resources, fame and knowledge from Martial Soul Hall. He had fooled her when she was young and naive.

A single tear slipped down her cheek as her aura turned icy cold. Her eyes locked on Yu Xiaogang with murderous intent, the influence of the Rakshasha God stirring within her.

But she quickly forced herself to calm down—she had almost killed him just now.

Tang Yin's lips curled into a dark smile as he caught Bibi Dong's cold, murderous gaze.

'Oh, Yu Xiaogang… you and your entire clan are so done for.'

Back to the match,

Lastly, only the trio remained who had finally regained some mental clarity as they steadied themselves. The six members of the Emperor Team weren't that easy to deal with but still they were repelled by the three who slowly turned the tide as the match went on.

Yan's defense helped block all the attack and finally he was also defeated by Yu Tianheng and combo from Shi Mo and Shi Mó. Only Hu Leina and her brother were keft. Tang san continued disgusting Hu Leina but as the match went on her spiritual wuhun gained back rationality.

Suddenly, Xue Yue appeared at Hu Liena's side. Their breathing synced in perfect rhythm, eyes sharp and unflinching. The rest of their team had already fallen—but these two stood motionless, like the calm before a storm.

"Nana…" Xue Yue whispered, the crimson mark on his cheek glowing brighter with an ominous glow.

He glanced at his sister, now composed—her expression serene, calm like still water before a storm. He inhaled the cool air, then turned toward the Emperor Team with a cold grin.

"Time for a sweet revenge."

"Let's show them the elegance of despair,"

Hu Liena said with a small, haunting smile, her expression hardening as she silently vowed to exact a hundredfold revenge.

They clasped hands.

A surge of soul power erupted between them, crushing the pressure in the arena like a dying star collapsing. Two soul forces intertwined—silver moonlight weaving seamlessly with pink-gold charm energy.

From their union emerged a single armored figure, wielding a pair of elegant yet razor-sharp curved blades that shimmered coldly.

"Martial Soul Fusion: Genie Mesmerize!"

This fusion was a terrifying blend of seductive charm and haunting illusions—an ethereal force capable of trapping opponents beyond the reach of any ordinary technique. It merged Hu Liena's soul-affecting charm with Xue Yue's moonlit illusions and spiritual suppression.

The fusion shattered foes' wills, leaving them exposed and vulnerable. It ensnared enemies in twisting illusions while dominating the battlefield, overwhelming minds and hearts with irresistible allure and crushing mental pressure.

Tang Yin's gaze sharpened as he felt a familiar tug in his spirit. The same sensation he'd experienced with Qian Renxue—undeniable strong pull from the arena.

Hmm? Could my spiritual martial soul be compatible with Hu Liena's? Talk about luck…

The fusion of Hu Liena and Xue Yue was a force nearly comparable to the power of a Soul Saint. There was no way the Emperor Team could withstand it—they were utterly crushed.

The moment the fusion activated, the arena warped, reality twisting at the seams. In an instant, the battlefield dissolved—replaced by a never-ending, blood-filled ocean.

Tang San blinked—but the arena was gone. Instead, he stood alone stuck in bloody ocean.

Tang San stood waist-deep in the grotesque, blood-red ocean. The thick liquid clung to him like rot, dragging at his limbs, chilling his bone.

Then the sea roared.

From the crimson horizon rose a massive, blood-soaked metallic figure, armored and hollow-eyed. With a soundless pull, the ocean surged toward it—and Tang San was caught in the whirlpool, screaming as he was dragged in.

He fought, thrashed, begged—but it was useless. The armored giant opened its maw, and Tang San was swallowed with the sea, vanishing into the abyss.

In the real world, he twitched on the ground, eyes rolled back, frothing at the mouth—suffering spiritual attack.

Tang san once again stood alone in an endless corridor of mirrors. Each one reflected not his strength, but his weakness: himself, bloodied, kneeling, weeping… failing. He turned, but the mirrors closed in. The air thickened with seductive whispers and haunting illusions.

"What talent? You're weak! You're ugly!"

"You're weaker than your untalented brother!"

"Your teacher made you weak! It's his fault?"

"Your father left you because of your teacher!"

The voices were everywhere—Hu Liena's charm weaving through his spiritual sea, Xue Yue's illusions slicing into his subconscious. Tang yin tried to release his Blue Silver Grass and his Haotian Hammer… but his hands were vines—rotting, tangled, useless.

In the real world, his body flailed weakly, mouth foaming, tears leaking from unfocused eyes. His skin turned pale blue from the spiritual pressure. Blood dribbled from his nose as the Genie Mesmerize fusion overwhelmed him.

Then came the final strike. The fused form raised its twin blades—one blade of moonlight, one of flame—and slashed in an X across Tang San's chest, not killing him, but shattering his spiritual defense.

The fusion's assault was moments away from shattering Tang San's spiritual sea—when, from the shadows of his mind, stepped Tang Yin, eyes calm and eerily pitying.

"Do you hate your Big Brother sooo much? Uwuwuwu…"

Before Tang San could react, the illusion collapsed—only to reform again. Again and again, he fell into new layers of nightmare, each more twisted than the last. His mind frayed at the edges, teetering on collapse.

Oddly, every time he nearly broke, Tang Yin reappeared, dragging him out just long enough to keep his sanity. Is my annoying brothee my spiritual support?....I thought it'd be Dad.…

Tang San screamed and struck forward, but his fists passed through mirage after mirage.

A thousand reflections of himself laughed at his struggle. And then, finally, the illusion lifted.

Yes—Tang Yin had been interfering, shielding his brother just enough from Hu Liena's brutal psychic barrage. Otherwise, with Tang San's meager mental power he would've been left drooling in a corner like an idiot by now.

The Martial Soul Fusion faded, and Hu Liena and Xue Yue separated, sweat glistening on their brows.

But Hu Liena wasn't done. The moment she spotted the weakened Tang San still twitching in the arena, she stormed over and began beating the poor boy without hesitation.

Tang San's body was already weakened—exhausted from months of sleepless nights forging hidden weapons under Tang Yin's slavery. Nine straight months of forced labor, with barely any rest, had left his constitution fragile. He wasn't built for endurance anymore—and it showed.

Tang San lay battered and broken, his body swollen and bruised like a pig's head. Black and blue from the relentless onslaught, he finally collapsed, twitching on the ground.

Hu Liena was exhausted too—drained from the intense mental and physical effort of torturing Tang San.

Seizing the moment, Tang Yin immediately influenced the host to announce the victory before Tang Hao could intervene.

"Victory—Martial Soul Hall Academy!"

The crowd erupted in thunderous cheers, rival teams joining in with rare unity—bound by the shared satisfaction that justice was served.

Yu Xiaogang's face darkened, his pride shattered as the audience hurled insults, branding him a loser. Some even threw eggs—eggs? Who brings eggs to a tournament? Regardless, the humiliation was complete.

The Emperor Team's crushing defeat, paired with the scandal of their underhanded tactics, sent shockwaves through the empire—sure to reach Xue Xing, the very one who appointed Yu Xiaogang as instructor as compensation for the Imperial Academy's past disrespect.

........…..............

"Tang Yin's spiritual martial soul is his brain, if you're wondering—that's where his telepathy and telekinesis come from. It's called the Spirit Brain, to be exact, and he can attempt a second awakening for it, just like he is trying with his Spirit Body."