DD Black White [391-392] (Patreon)

Chapter 391: Ma Xiaotao's Disdain

Ning Tian's words contained both an almost despairing, pessimistic assessment of the current world situation and an unreserved expression of how much she needed Chen Xin, Gu Rong, and indeed the entire core strength of the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Sect.

This was a calculation—utterly cool-headed, rooted in the sect's survival and future interests.

Yet, deep in her heart, there was an even more important goal, one that surpassed even the immediate combat power of Sword and Bone Douluo—Ning Rongrong.

This ancestor who bore the legendary Nine Treasure Glazed Tile Pagoda martial soul was the true jewel that represented the sect's limitless future.

As long as they could bring Ning Rongrong safely back to the Nine Treasure Glazed Tile Sect, passing down the Nine Treasure Glazed Tile Pagoda would no longer be a distant dream, but a reality within reach.

At the thought that the Nine Treasure Glazed Tile Sect might one day possess a stable inheritance of the Nine Treasure Glazed Tile Pagoda, Ning Tian felt her heartbeat involuntarily quicken, a surge of irrepressible excitement pounding in her chest.

The Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Pagoda alone was already the continent's top-tier auxiliary tool-type martial soul, keeping the sect unshaken for ten thousand years—then what of the even higher, nigh-defiant Nine Treasure Glazed Tile Pagoda?
Its future was enough to set one's blood racing—beyond imagination.

She hardly dared contemplate in detail: once they possessed the Nine Treasure Glazed Tile Pagoda inheritance, to what heights would the Nine Treasure Glazed Tile Sect rise?
By then, even the Body Sect—currently so overpowering within the Heaven Dou Empire's borders that many sects could barely breathe—might no longer be an unshakeable colossus.

As the young sect master of the Nine Treasure Glazed Tile Sect, Ning Tian was far more precocious than her peers and saw with clarity the predicament and pressure the sect was facing.

That forced low profile and forbearance—was it not, in part, because the Body Sect was simply too overbearing?

Thus, her greatest ambition on this trip was to bring back two powerhouses—Sword Douluo and Bone Douluo—capable of reshaping the sect's high-end combat strength, as well as Ning Rongrong, a living treasure representing the sect's future ceiling.

The two Titled Douluo would be immediate combat power to solve present woes, while Ning Rongrong would be the sect's future.

To bolster her persuasion and to display the heritage and strength on her side to their ancestors, Ning Tian's thoughts stirred and she called softly, "Jeanne."

At her words, the previously gentle light in the courtyard seemed infused with some holy element; it turned brighter and purer, and the air filled with a warmth that soothed the heart.

The next moment, space rippled faintly. A girl clad in refined silver-blue armor with a cascade of golden hair appeared, her figure condensing slowly as if answering a summons, quietly manifesting at Ning Tian's side.

She was Saint Jeanne.

Those eyes—emerald-blue like a clear sky, and as deep as the darkest lake—were immaculate, containing a will so steadfast it seemed able to pierce all confusion and darkness.

By merely standing there, she naturally emanated a vast aura of sanctity, order, and guardianship. It wasn't aggressive, but like warm sunlight dispelling chill, it instantly eased the taut nerves strung by heavy topics and filled the space.

"It's her!"

Sword Douluo Chen Xin and Bone Douluo Gu Rong uttered low cries almost simultaneously. The eyes of the two veteran Titled Douluo sharpened abruptly, their bodies leaning forward on instinct, entering a guarded state.

They would never mistake her.

Back in Heaven Dou City, under the suffocating godlike pressure pouring down from Qian Renxue, two powerful auras had torn across the sky, intervening by force.

One of those auras was precisely what this girl before them exuded—sacred, vast, brimming with light and an unshakable power of conviction.

It was this power that made the newly ascended Angel God Qian Renxue show a trace of wariness and restraint at the last moment, leading her to stay her hand; only then had their ragtag remnant managed to hack a bloody path out and survive.

"This is Jeanne—my dearest friend whom I can entrust with life and death, and my most important partner."

Ning Tian introduced at the right moment, her tone full of trust.

"During the breakout in Heaven Dou City, it was she and another companion, Lady Aglaea, who together released their auras to overawe Qian Renxue, winning us precious time and chance."

Hearing this, Ning Fengzhi felt a surge of joy.

Anyone who could make a newly risen deity hesitate—such a being's power had absolutely surpassed the scope of ordinary Titled Douluo. Even if she had not truly stepped into the divine realm, she could not be far from it, possessing some method to contend with divine might.

With such a powerful existence standing beside Ning Tian, it greatly increased the credibility and weight of everything she said, and proved more directly that they indeed held power beyond this world's norms, with the capability to execute that astonishing cross-world migration plan.

"What Ning Tian says is not false."

Jeanne's clear, penetrating voice sounded. Her blue eyes swept calmly across Ning Fengzhi and the others.

"That Angel God—her power is pure and mighty. Moreover, she is still in a period of rapid ascent while fusing with the god seat, far from her peak or limit. If you remain in this world and face her head-on, unless you choose to kneel and submit under the rule of the Spirit Empire… with the power you currently possess, it will be very hard to find a true path to survival."

She had promised Ning Tian to help persuade them, but she did not exaggerate; she spoke from factual judgment.

Even when facing an angel from another world, she would not choose direct conflict unless necessary.

If Ning Fengzhi and the others could be persuaded to leave peacefully, that would be the best outcome for now.

As for Shrek Academy and Xuan Zi, Jeanne could faintly sense that while they had designs on this world's divine inheritances, their core goal remained to find a way back to their own spacetime.

After all, none of them could predict what earthshaking changes might occur in their original world during their absence.

Ning Fengzhi fell into a long silence. His brows knit and his fingers unconsciously rubbed the fine wood grain of the chair's armrest.

Abandon the Douluo Continent, cultivated and lived upon for generations, and move the whole sect to a completely unfamiliar world, known only from Ning Tian and Jeanne's descriptions as ten thousand years in the future?

The variables, risks, and uncertainties were simply too many.

Would that world truly have room for the sect's development, as they claimed? Could thousands of disciples and their families adapt to an utterly different environment and rules?

Would this be out of the wolf's den and into another unknown tiger's maw? Besides… home is hard to leave.

This attachment to the homeland, rooted in blood and steeped in the soul, and the instinctive fear of an unknown future—these could not be easily offset or erased by simple interest-balancing.

He slowly lifted his head, his gaze complex as it fell upon the earnest and resolute Ning Tian and the holy-auraed Jeanne by her side. His voice carried a trace of hoarseness and heaviness born of inner turmoil.

"Xiao Tian, Miss Jeanne… The information and proposal you bring are truly… astonishing, concerning the lives and futures of thousands in my Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Sect. Such a momentous decision—forgive me, Fengzhi cannot decide rashly at this moment. I need time. I must gather all core elders and stewards to consult with them. After all… it is hard to leave one's homeland, and the road ahead is a vast unknown."

Ning Tian fully understood Ning Fengzhi's concerns and struggle. She nodded solemnly.

"I understand. This concerns the sect's survival and rise and fall. Ancestor should of course be extremely prudent and ponder it carefully."

As she spoke, she took out a delicately shaped communication soul tool glimmering with faint soul-guide runes and offered it with both hands.

"This is a communication soul tool I carry. If Ancestor has any questions or reaches a decision, you can contact me at any time. I will answer everything I know and conceal nothing."

Seeing this, Ning Fengzhi also took out the communication soul tool he usually used for sect affairs, purchased from Jade Chamber.

When the two soul tools—originating from different times—successfully exchanged communication codes and showed they could establish a stable link, the eyes of Ning Fengzhi, Chen Xin, and Gu Rong all sharpened at once.

This indirectly confirmed a shocking fact—the mysterious Jade Chamber's technology and creations truly came from the same world as Ning Tian and her companions.

Ning Tian knew the most important seed had been sown. Next, she had to give this wise, steady ancestor enough time and space to digest this ocean of information and weigh the two ends of the scale bearing the sect's fate.

And the powerful strength and special mode of existence Jeanne had displayed—enough to make a deity wary—undoubtedly added a heavy weight to the migration side of that scale.

"There is one more matter that may be worth noting."

Seeing that Ning Tian had basically achieved her main purpose, Jeanne spoke again, offering new information that drew Ning Fengzhi and the others' inquisitive gazes.

"Recently, Lady Aglaea and I joined hands to clear a medium-sized filth point nearby. During the purification, we clearly felt our own power grow and condense significantly. This confirms Lady Aglaea's earlier conjecture—the energy essence within these filth points is likely of the same origin as our existence as Servants."

"Servants?"

Ning Fengzhi keenly seized upon the unfamiliar term, doubt showing in his eyes.

Seeing their confusion, Ning Tian judged there was no need to hide this and succinctly explained the concept of the Holy Grail War and Servants as special existences condensed from negative energy.

Learning that Jeanne was actually a Servant from another world—constructed from special energy and not a flesh-and-blood being in the traditional sense—Ning Fengzhi, Chen Xin, and Gu Rong all looked at one another, unable to conceal their shock.

This completely overturned their understanding of lifeforms.

"Father."

At this moment, Ning Rongrong blinked her big eyes and tugged at Ning Fengzhi's sleeve, her pretty face full of wonder.

"Don't you think… Miss Jeanne's existence sounds… kind of familiar?"

Reminded by his daughter, inspiration flashed in Ning Fengzhi's mind, and his face instantly grew grave.

"Indeed. The energy-construct Miss Jeanne described is remarkably similar in essence to those negative-energy entities born from filth points that know only destruction and devouring. It's just that… those negative-energy bodies are chaotic and feral, with no reason or intellect—like beasts. While Miss Jeanne possesses complete wisdom, clear will, and noble character."

"On that point, we do have preliminary conclusions."

Jeanne affirmed their observation, a glint of comprehension flashing in her blue eyes.

"Based on our investigation and analysis, Lady Aglaea and I believe that we and the beings born from filth points do indeed share the same foundational power source."

"If we call beings like us—with complete consciousness and form—'Servants,' then those could perhaps be called 'Shadow Servants.'"

Jeanne elaborated.

"And precisely because of this shared origin, when we purify those Shadow Servants and the filth points they occupy, the refined, homogenous energy that disperses can be safely absorbed and converted by us into nourishment to strengthen ourselves—and for now, this strengthening appears to show no obvious upper limit."

Hearing this, Ning Fengzhi and the others fell silent again, exchanging shocked and complicated looks.

Two seemingly separate anomalies—the Holy Grail War and the filth points—pointed at the same incomprehensible power as their root?

The truth behind this, when pondered, was terrifying, and it made them even more curious—tinged with an ineffable dread—regarding the world ten thousand years hence from which Ning Tian hailed.

…

The temporary quarters arranged by the Star Luo Empire for Xuan Zi's group were simpler and more utilitarian than the carefully appointed guest courtyard of the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Sect, yet they happened to isolate outside disturbances, forming a quiet world of their own.

In a room already set with a simple sound-proofing soul-guide barrier, Ma Xiaotao, Han Ruoruo, and Aglaea—whose ethereal form and star-deep aura made her seem mysterious as the night sky—sat around a plain wooden table.

The mood here was entirely different from Ning Tian's solemn scene—more leisurely.

Han Ruoruo's slender fingers flipped through a book of continental geography, though her gaze wasn't fully on the page.

She spoke lightly: "You must have felt Elder Xuan's stance too, Xiaotao. God seat inheritances… In our era where no deities have appeared for ten thousand years, we both know what that means. Elder Xuan and the others likely won't let this chance slip. We… also need to make preparations early."

At that, the red eyes of Ma Xiaotao—like flames—flashed with unhidden defiance.

She lazily folded her arms and leaned back, relaxed, her tone frank and even tinged with scorn:

"Sister Ruoruo, no 'feeling' needed. It's obvious."

The corner of her mouth quirked in a faintly mocking arc.

"So-called ancestors are just counterparts in this parallel world who happen to have similar names and martial souls. Just because they bear the titles recorded in our historical texts, are we supposed to present, with both hands, a godhood opportunity that's within reach and can change fate, and willingly play supporting roles?"

Ma Xiaotao truly held those so-called ancestors in contempt.

That fatty named Ma Hongjun was far from the wise and valiant ancestor she'd imagined; his strength disappointed her—shockingly weak.

Chapter 392: Calculations on All Sides

The legends passed down within Shrek Academy painted the first-generation Shrek Seven Devils as peerlessly gifted—monsters among monsters.

But seeing them with her own eyes, her fantasy shattered completely.

Whether it was Tang San, the most renowned, or Ma Hongjun, her nominal ancestor—perhaps their talents were decent, but nowhere near the monstrous level she had imagined.

In her view, people like Lu Jingming, Firefly, and Robin were the true monsters.

Compared to them, the first-generation Seven Devils were so mediocre as to be hardly worth mentioning.

Forget existences as out-of-spec as Lu Jingming—compared even to the Shrek inner court of their own time, people like Bei Bei and Xu Sanshi, at the same age, might not have been weaker and could even be stronger.

Though some of this might be due to era and resources, asking the proud Ma Xiaotao to feel genuine reverence for a group of weaklings was truly forcing the issue.

Back in the Star Luo throne room, she had merely maintained basic decorum for the sake of the occasion.

Now, in private with her sister-like Han Ruoruo, she had no need to pretend. Her true thoughts showed instantly.

Ma Xiaotao snorted, her tone growing sharper: "Even taking ten thousand steps back—if the ones before me were our actual ancestors famed in our own history, faced with a god-seat chance to defy fate, am I supposed to drop to my knees and voluntarily give up my right to compete? I, Ma Xiaotao—can't do it!"

Her gaze turned razor-sharp, as if two phoenix flames were blazing within.

"I'll fight for it—openly and fairly, on ability alone. If this ancestor isn't strong enough and loses to me in fair contention, that only proves he doesn't deserve it—that he's too weak. This world, the soul master world, is ultimately ruled by strength. The weak are meat for the strong."

Thinking of her martial soul, Ma Xiaotao's tone took on a long-suppressed bitterness and chill—resentment born of prolonged torment.

"As for the Evil Fire Phoenix inheritance? What it brought me was never some damn honor or gratitude. Before I met Senior Jingliu and gained complete control over this flame, that evil fire clung like a bone-burrowing parasite, burning my heart day and night. That life-worse-than-death agony—who among you can truly understand? And you want me to thank this so-called ancestral bloodline that brought me endless pain?"

Her voice turned cool.

"Besides, I've never really had a family. As far as I know, the Evil Fire Phoenix line, by my generation, probably has only me left—a lone sprout. I was found outside by my teacher and brought back to Shrek to be raised. Shrek Academy is my only home."

She looked firmly at Han Ruoruo and Aglaea, her tone peremptory and beyond dispute.

"The title of ancestor deserves a place of honor in Shrek's hall of fame to receive the respect of later generations. But some things are not to be surrendered unconditionally and without principle just because of a respectable name. The god seat—I will fight for it. No one will stop me."

Ma Xiaotao's words were the rawest, purest logic of power and survival.

She desired godhood far more than most—not only to surpass herself, but more deeply because she had watched Lu Jingming grow stronger at an astonishing rate, leaving her far behind.

She was happy for him, but in her heart was even more unwillingness.

She refused to be a mere admirer forever, a foil; she refused to let the distance between them grow until it was unreachable.

That unwillingness had become a blazing thirst for power.

Han Ruoruo listened quietly to this unvarnished declaration. She showed no surprise. She knew Ma Xiaotao's fierce nature and unique experience too well.

She nodded lightly, agreeing:

"My thoughts are the same as yours, Xiaotao. Elder Xuan likely plans the same. Our accidental drift into this world is a crisis, but even more a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. If we can obtain god seats here, not only would we transcend as individuals, it would be an unparalleled boost to the Academy's future and to the challenges our world may face."

She paused, analyzing Xuan Zi's layout coolly:

"The reason Elder Xuan chose to lay bare information about the future in the Star Luo throne room was probably to borrow external strength to counter external strength."

"Otherwise, relying on us outsiders alone—unfamiliar with people and places—trying to find the ethereal Sea God Island on the vast ocean would be like looking for a needle in a haystack. And our ultimate goal is to find a stable spacetime channel and return to our world. That also requires local forces' information and resources. Publicly trading part of our intel for their full assistance is a risky move—but it's the most effective strategy at present."

Aglaea had remained quiet, listening. Her eyes were calm as still water.

She had long grown used to the schemes and struggles born of mortal desire and power; her long life made it hard for her to take great interest.

To cross spacetime to a new world and personally observe and experience a different civilization and its rules—that was already a great satisfaction and harvest for her.

Han Ruoruo was her contracted Master. Until the contract ended and this otherworldly journey concluded, she would uphold the spirit of the pact, using her power and wisdom to help the other achieve her goals.

Between the three, an unspoken tacit understanding had formed.

In this parallel world full of peril and opportunity, they would join hands for a common goal—power and the path home—examining all with cool heads and seizing every possible chance decisively.

The halo of ancestors, before real interests and the pursuit of power, seemed pale and weak.

…

In another quiet courtyard provided by the Star Luo Empire, lamplight flickered, stretching shadows long upon the walls, weaving a tense pattern.

Yu Xiaogang, Liu Erlong, Flender, Tang San, Xiao Wu, Oscar, Dai Mubai, Zhu Zhuqing, Ma Hongjun, and the poison master Dugu Bo—whom Tang San viewed as crucial support—had gathered.

Compared to the throne room's daytime mélange of factions, each with their own designs, the atmosphere here was more private—yet even heavier for the future choices at stake.

Yu Xiaogang's brows furrowed into a deep ravine. His finger traced the rough tabletop over and over, as if deducing an invisible game of chess.

He broke the stifling silence first, his voice low and hoarse, dense with worry:
"What Elder Xuan said today carried an enormous load of information—especially regarding the god-seat inheritances. It has indeed given us direction, but…"

His tone turned abruptly. Those eyes—made especially deep by years of theoretical study—swept sharply across each familiar face, filled with warning.

"Think carefully, everyone. He laid out such earth-shattering information—enough to shake the entire continent—in front of the Star Luo Emperor, sect masters, and many with ulterior motives. Isn't this generosity… a bit too uncharacteristic and even… dangerous?"

Flender pushed his trademark, polished crystal glasses up his nose. Behind the lenses, there was no longer a merchant's slyness but worldly shrewdness and gravity.

He took the thread at once, his voice carrying his usual mercantile analysis, yet striking the heart of the matter:
"Xiaogang's concern is exactly mine. In business terms—no pies fall from the sky. Elder Xuan and the others being from Shrek ten thousand years in the future—that connection is real. We also remember the favor of their rescue."

"But the word god seat is far too heavy. Tossing such bait openly instantly puts us on the very tip of the spear—the succulent prey in every schemer's eyes."

"We… may become not only the target of all, but also the chess pieces he uses to draw fire, both overt and covert."

After all, in the original course of history, it was Shrek Academy's seven students who gained the god seats.

Knowing this, no one would ignore them; they would become the focus for anyone with designs.

"Enough."

Liu Erlong's fiery temper ignited. She slammed a palm on the table. The hard wood groaned under the blow; teacups clattered.

"To hell with plots and schemes. Since we know god seats exist and that they're clearly your opportunities, Xiao San, then we go fight for them—snatch them. Whoever dares block our path and reach their claws out—I'll burn them to cinders with my Red Dragon True Fire."

Her words were rough with anger, but they hit the core—faced with a chance to defy fate, there could be no retreat. Only all-out struggle.

Seated beside Xiao Wu, Tang San had listened in silence like a deep pool. Now he slowly raised his head.

In those blue eyes—his mother's legacy—there was none of a youth's hot-blooded impulse, only a coolness and depth honed by hardship—almost cold.

"Teacher, Dean, Teacher Erlong—what you worry about is exactly what I've been weighing."

His voice was extraordinarily steady, betraying little emotion, yet carrying a firm resolve—as if some decision had been made.

"Elder Xuan may not harbor malice. But in the face of god seats—the ultimate temptation surpassing the mundane—the trial of human nature will exceed imagination. We cannot, and dare not, pin our fate and our hope for vengeance entirely on others' goodwill and promises. We must have our own plan, our own hole cards—power enough to handle any turn."

His gaze swept over each companion, silently reaffirming their shared belief. He continued, his voice decisive.

"The Sea God's seat, since it once belonged to me in history—then this time as well, no matter how hard the road or how many coveters there are, I, Tang San, will claim it. Not only to pursue greater strength, but to exact blood-debt from the Spirit Empire, for the Douluo Continent, and… to protect everyone important to me—never to lose them again."

The weight of his resolve and responsibility moved everyone present.

"Before we formally set out for Sea God Island, I will race against time and use every material we can gather to forge as many as possible of the most powerful and deterrent Tang Sect mechanism hidden weapons."

Tang San's eyes turned laser-focused, as if he could already see those exquisitely crafted instruments of death.

"For example, the Buddha's Fury Tang Lotus—extreme in area devastation; the Rainstorm Pear Blossom Needles—unstoppable in single-target penetration; and the Peacock Plume—bizarre and unpredictable, impossible to defend against. With them at hand, when facing encirclement by the Spirit Empire—or if some seemingly friendly ally turns on us—we'll have stronger means of self-preservation and the power to reverse a battle."

Dai Mubai's tiger eyes flared. He stood abruptly, his tall frame radiating dominance and decision.

"Xiao San is absolutely right. In this chaotic age, only the power clutched in our own hands is eternal truth. Rest assured—I'll report to my royal father immediately and mobilize the Star Luo royal resources to procure every rare metal you need to craft these weapons, at any cost. These god seats must be ours—and only ours."

It was not only brotherhood he displayed, but the mettle of a royal prince.

Oscar rubbed his hands. Though his face still showed some nerves at the unknown, there was more forced optimism and resolve:

"Heh, the God of Food… that really sounds like my flavor. No need to do the killing and fighting to become a god—great! Don't worry, Third Brother—my Mirror Sausage replication has improved in soul power control lately—longer-lasting and more stable. It'll be clutch when it counts. Since when have the Shrek Seven ever chickened out? When brothers work as one, they break metal."

Ma Hongjun scratched his fiery red short hair, grumbling:

"Phoenix God… sounds impressive and domineering, but that Ma Xiaotao seems way stronger than me by more than a little. Her flame is so pure… sigh!"

He sighed, then his eyes sharpened, looking at Tang San. His round face showed loyal righteousness.

"Whatever. Third Brother, I'm with you. Future generations, past generations—none of that matters more than brothers fighting side by side. Whoever wants to steal what's ours can first ask if this phoenix flame agrees."

In his heart, Tang San stood far above some suddenly appearing stranger who might be his descendant.

At this point, Ma Hongjun seemed to remember something. Rubbing his hands, his face turned a mix of shyness, curiosity, and urgency. He lowered his voice:

"By the way—wrong occasion earlier, so I didn't dare ask… So, um, my future wife… who is she? Which family's girl? She actually left me a bloodline…"