Douluo: Manifesting the Black Abyss and White Flower at the Start-Chapter 315 - 314: Tang Wutong's Fury

Tang Wutong may be innocent, but the root of this tragedy and fate lay with her sanctimonious god-king father.
If Tang San hadn't schemed to forcibly fuse a fragment of Tang Wutong's soul with the Auspicious Beast, then the independent consciousness "Wang Qiu'er" would never have emerged, Tang Wutong wouldn't have lived incomplete, and the two wouldn't have been driven to today's death match where only one could remain.
"What nonsense are you spouting?!"
Tang Wutong's mood was a snarl of agitation and chaos.
Staring at that face so like her own yet entirely different, hearing those abrupt, every-word-a-knife accusations, she felt the fury and helplessness of being kept in the dark by those dearest—toyed with in the palm of their hands—surge over her.
Why did it seem everyone knew some earth-shattering secret, while she alone—blindfolded, ears plugged—lived inside a colossal lie?!
"You'll understand soon enough."
Wang Qiu'er stopped wasting breath.
The Golden Dragon Spear hummed low in her hands. At its tip, a piercing, all-cleaving golden light gathered; killing intent locked onto Tang Wutong as if tangible—clear sign she was done holding back and would end this by battle.
Words would never convince Tang Wutong—after all, they condemned her father.
"I don't understand your raving, but I, Tang Wutong, am no pushover."
Even a clay idol has some fire—let alone Tang Wutong, raised in the palm, a god-realm little hellion at heart.
Her face went cold; anger flashed in her eyes.
With a flip of her right hand, an enormous, pitch-black Clear Sky Hammer materialized in her pale palm.
Ancient runes along the haft lit with a deep, gloomy glow as surging soul power flooded in, releasing a mountain-heavy, overwhelming aura.
Anyone ambushed without cause and forced to listen to clouded slander against their father would lose their temper—let alone her.
CLANG—!!!!!
The black Clear Sky Hammer and the radiant Golden Dragon Spear slammed together again.
This time, it wasn't probing—it was an all-out clash.
Blinding gold and condensed black tore at each other like living energies, biting, devouring, annihilating.
The chain of metallic crashes rang like rolling thunder, ripping at eardrums and echoing over the vast ruins without end.
Neither the Golden Dragon-blooded, power-supreme Wang Qiu'er nor the gifted Tang Wutong bearing the Clear Sky Hammer looked the least bit delicate now.
Their slender arms, coiled with terrifying strength, tensed. Each step shook the earth. Each collision of weapons burst shockwaves that hurled broken bricks and shattered beams into the air.
The Clear Sky Hammer was famed as the world's foremost power-type tool spirit. The simulated Golden Dragon martial soul of Wang Qiu'er was called the "ancestor of strength," the very embodiment of raw might.
The two look-alike girls fought in mirror styles—both ferocious, domineering, fearless.
They grew fiercer as they fought. Their auras boiled higher and higher. The turbulent energies of their clashes pressed the air to a whining strain, warping it visibly.
"Little Sect Master!"
Not far away, the Clear Sky Sect disciples—still reeling—saw Tang Wutong attacked by the golden-haired girl. Eyes reddened, they started forward to help.
They had barely taken a few steps—
BOOM!!!!
A deafening blast went off before them without warning.
Flames, incandescent to white, bloomed like red lotuses, swallowing space ahead. A wave of terrible heat shoved the leading disciples off their feet like an invisible giant hand.
"Ugh—!"
Their screams were drowned under the explosion.
They fell like cut kites, smoking, clothes charred and torn, skin branded with horrible burns, hair still sparking. In an instant, they were gravely injured and out of the fight.
As the flames and rolling smoke thinned, a sleek, silver-white mech—lines smooth and dripping future-tech—stood like a silent reaper before them.
The armor gleamed with cold metallic luster. Emerald conduits pulsed at the joints. The thruster nozzles on its back still held a residue of red-hot glow. The whole machine radiated a chilling, keep-your-distance aura of killing.
"Apologies. Command confirmed. You… all must die."
A low, emotionless, vocoder-treated male voice echoed from within the mech, each word tolling like a death knell for the Clear Sky disciples.
"Form up! Together—scrap that tin can!"
The disciples here were all sect elites—none under Soul Emperor level, wills steeled.
After a heartbeat of shock, the remaining dozen-odd exchanged a look. Resolve hardened.
They erupted with soul power in unison.
Hum—!
Hefty Clear Sky Hammers wreathed in black soul force appeared in their hands. The terrifying pressure thickened the air.
Next moment, like moths to flame and with do-or-die resolve, they charged the silver mech from all directions, hammers howling.
Facing simultaneous attacks from multiple angles, the mech burst into near-white orange-red flame.
The heat was so intense the light bent around it. Charred earth underfoot glazed slick and oily in an instant.
The next second—
Whip-crack!
The silver figure moved.
She turned into a blistering streak, meeting the dozen disciples head-on.
Back thrusters roared at full, spitting scarlet fire. She broke past the limits of sight, leaving only blurred afterimages and tearing sonic booms.
BOOM-BOOM-BOOM-BOOM—!!!!
A rapid string of explosions overlapped.
The disciples' heavy strikes hit nothing—couldn't even brush a sleeve.
Instead, it felt like being hit head-on by a supersonic mountain of steel.
"Pfft—!"
A chorus of bone-cracking snaps sounded.
Every disciple who rushed in spewed blood and flew back.
Their blood evaporated midair into a crimson mist under the heat.
Even their famed Clear Sky Hammers, paragons of sturdiness and force, couldn't bear the instant impact. Cracks spiderwebbed the heads, then—snap—shattered to dust.
Their bodies, like broken rag dolls, slammed into distant rubble and went still after a few rolls. No struggle, no breath—their lives snuffed in an instant.
Firefly stood silently, silver mech gleaming cold in the dancing light, like a freshly completed sculpture of slaughter.
Primary objective complete: she had cleared the small fry who might interfere with Wang Qiu'er and Tang Wutong's duel.
Her part seemed done, yet behind the visor, her gaze still drifted toward Lu Jingming and Wang Qiu'er. The frame micro-adjusted, ready to move and support at any time.
"Bastards—damn you all!!!"
Elsewhere, Tai Tan, fending off Lu Jingming's black spear, felt the familiar auras of sect disciples wink out one by one like candles in the wind.
The fire and grief pent in his chest erupted like a volcano.
He loosed a sky-rending bellow. His already massive muscles swelled like bellows, black hair bristling into steel needles. His skin shone with a rocklike sheen.
In a heartbeat, with an earth-shaking roar, he became a Giant Ape over a hundred meters tall—a moving mountain.
His enormous foot slammed down, making the ruins quake and split.
His lantern-sized eyes, burning with furious flame, locked onto Lu Jingming below—filled with primal savagery and killing intent.
Tai Tan's temper was volcanic at the best of times. Being ambushed by Lu Jingming had already enraged him.
Now, the enemy had butchered so many Clear Sky disciples before his eyes.
That atrocity finally lit the beast's full ferocity.
"ROAR—!!!"
The Giant Ape howled to the heavens. The shockwave spread like substance, rippling the air.
His mountain bulk surged forward. Each step made the earth heave. With the rawest, wildest momentum, he charged the small yet deadly figure below—Lu Jingming.