Volume One, Chapter Eight: The Starry Forest Has Spiraled Out of Control!

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Fang Yuan, clad in the black robe of the Spirit Hall, stepped into the nearest town, disguising himself as a Spirit Hall soul master who had just escaped from the Star Dou Great Forest.

Along the streets, the shouts of vendors intertwined with the quarrels of passersby. The closer one got to the Star Dou Great Forest, the harsher the residents’ temperaments became. Most people who managed to scrape a living here possessed some measure of soul power; only with it could one survive. Then there were those like Fang Yuan, wearing the black robe symbolizing the Spirit Hall, who could swagger openly through the streets.

Even the most arrogant bully soul masters in town would respectfully avoid and give way to anyone wearing the Spirit Hall’s attire.

As the most influential force across the entire Douluo Continent, the Spirit Hall’s strength was deeply ingrained in the hearts of every soul master. Especially with the monthly soul master subsidies, they had secured the loyalty of most soul masters. Without Tang San—the hypocrite who stirred trouble—the Spirit Hall Empire established by Bibi Dong would truly be the heart’s desire of all soul masters.

The town Fang Yuan was in also had a Spirit Hall branch, but he neither intended nor dared to go there; going now would be like walking into a trap.

Instead, Fang Yuan turned toward a tavern bustling with all kinds of people. It was an old tradition for Spirit Hall soul masters to visit taverns for a few drinks, so his behavior was very common. In fact, the tavern in this town served as an intelligence hub, a gathering place for many Spirit Hall soul masters.

Upon entering, dim lamps flickered, casting shadows over wooden tables scattered with empty wine jugs. Several soul masters in black Spirit Hall robes spoke in low voices, while voluptuous courtesans attended to a few drunken soul masters, their pale skin exposed. Those with weak willpower could hardly avert their gaze. The air was thick with the scent of alcohol and a faint hint of blood.

Fang Yuan found a corner seat and casually pulled the hood of his black robe low to cover half his face.

Seeing a Spirit Hall soul master enter, the barkeep immediately put on a broad smile and respectfully handed him a foaming mug of barley beer. “Honored soul master, please enjoy.”

The barkeep’s servile demeanor was like that of a lapdog—ready to vanish or appear at a whim. Spirit Hall soul masters were typically not charged here, which explained why they loved gathering in this place. Of course, there was an advantage: wherever a Spirit Hall soul master was present, no one dared cause trouble.

Fang Yuan took a sip of his beer, his eyes scanning the surroundings. The Spirit Hall robe he wore was undoubtedly his strongest shield in this chaotic environment. Even a drunkard wouldn’t dare provoke a Spirit Hall soul master.

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As Fang Yuan observed attentively, ready to gather useful intelligence, a burly, rough-faced soul master strolled over and plopped down in the empty seat beside him, acting somewhat familiar.

This man, too, wore a black Spirit Hall robe, though the hem was worn and frayed, showing signs of many years. He slammed his hand on the table, causing the wine jug to tremble, then grinned, revealing a set of uneven yellow teeth. “Hey, brother, you’re new here, huh? Don’t recognize your face. Which branch are you from?”

He lifted his jug and gulped down a large mouthful, letting the liquid spill down his chin onto his robe. Unbothered, he casually wiped it off with his sleeve. His eyes gleamed with a wild and unrestrained spirit. On the surface, he showed no suspicion of Fang Yuan’s identity—after all, no ordinary person would dare wander around wearing the Spirit Hall robe; that was a capital offense.

Typically, soul masters only needed to reach the soul warrior level to join the Spirit Hall. The threshold was relatively low, but the benefits and treatment were excellent. Aside from the top three sects and two great empires, most soul masters seeking a powerful backing chose the Spirit Hall.

Therefore, the burly man had no reason to doubt Fang Yuan’s disguise. Genuine soul masters had long since joined the Spirit Hall—why would anyone bother pretending? That would be foolish.

“I just came back from the Star Dou Great Forest,” Fang Yuan replied succinctly, projecting an aura that discouraged further questions, his tone cold and distant.

The burly man’s eyes brightened at this, and he lowered his voice. “The Star Dou Great Forest? I heard from our bishop that no one is allowed to enter or leave today. It must be our Spirit Hall launching a hunt for the hundred-thousand-year soul beasts. They say even the titled Douluo will be there. Could you be one of them?”

Fang Yuan was briefly taken aback; he hadn’t expected the burly man to guess the soul-hunting operation. But on second thought, it made sense.

Just as Fang Yuan prepared to concoct a story, the tavern door suddenly burst open. A cold wind swept in, carrying the town’s winter snowflakes. A bloodied, tattered soul master staggered inside, still wearing the exclusive black robe of the Spirit Hall, shouting, “Run! The soul-hunting mission failed! Three titled Douluo died! The Star Dou Great Forest is out of control!”

The tavern’s patrons froze, their gazes all fixed on the bloodied soul master.

Fang Yuan exchanged a glance with the burly man; shock flickered in both their eyes.

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What surprised Fang Yuan most was that the others had only just escaped from the Star Dou Great Forest. The surrounding towns were surely about to descend into chaos. But what worried him most was the possibility of being recognized by the Spirit Hall personnel—then trouble would be inevitable.

At that moment, hurried footsteps sounded outside. A red-robed bishop led a group of Spirit Hall soul masters clad in armor, their faces grave.

The bishop swept his gaze around and immediately declared, “The Holy Maiden has commanded all Spirit Hall personnel to evacuate the town immediately. No delays are allowed!”

With that, the bishop waved his hand, signaling his subordinates to take away the bloodied soul master.

Soon the bishop and his group departed, leaving the tavern in a deathly silence. A palpable aura of doom settled on everyone’s hearts. Even the previously drunken soul masters sobered quickly. The bloodied soul master’s words were true—the Star Dou Great Forest was out of control!

Suddenly, panic erupted among the soul masters in the tavern. Tables and chairs overturned, wine jugs shattered, and spilled liquor mingled with the muddy floor, creating a nauseating stench. Broken ceramic shards tore into the feet of those with worn shoes, drawing blood. Groans, screams, and prayers rose in a chaotic chorus.

Only Fang Yuan and the burly man remained unmoved, still seated calmly as if the very mountains were collapsing before them.

In truth, Fang Yuan did want to escape amidst the chaos, but with everyone gripped by fear and acting unpredictably, any reckless attack could spell his doom. His body was only as strong as an ordinary man’s.

Weighing the risks, Fang Yuan decided staying in the tavern was safer for now. As for why the burly man stayed, Fang Yuan neither knew nor cared to find out.

He slowly lifted his cup, gently swirling the remaining wine inside, as if the turmoil beyond had nothing to do with him. Yet in reality, Fang Yuan was the architect of this entire calamity!