Douluo: Becoming a God by Relying on my Enemies

Before Bule could utter a word, he saw Yun Feng's gentle gaze, and he instantly fell silent, not daring to speak further.

Seeing that Bule understood his situation, Yun Feng lifted him and told Xiao Wu and the others, "Give us some space and keep watch. I have some questions for Bule."

The group understood and left the area.

Inside, Bule was panicked, unsure of what Yun Feng intended for him. After everyone left, Yun Feng began his questioning.

Once satisfied with the answers, Yun Feng released Bule. He had obtained the information he needed and decided to let Bule go, not out of kindness, but because Bule still had his uses. It wasn't time to eliminate him yet.

However, Yun Feng wasn't completely unprepared. He placed a soul control seal on Bule. This seal ensured that even if Bule wanted to disclose Yun Feng's identity, the seal would prevent it. Even if he did spill the beans, no one would believe him.

After these precautions, Yun Feng regrouped with the others and continued on their way back.

In the gloomy alley of Soto City, Bule lay trembling on the ground. This was his third time regaining consciousness, each time dragged back into darkness by the intense pain coursing through his body.

He gritted his teeth, trying to open his eyes. The smell of charred flesh assaulted his senses, and the most despairing part was the numbness in his lower body. He knew his life was essentially over.

He attempted to move but could only manage a weak crawl. His limbs were dislocated, even his elbows and knees. At least five ribs were broken, with two neck vertebrae misaligned.

All this damage was despite Xiao Wu's restraint. Had she not held back, his injuries could have been far worse. Though her soul power wasn't potent enough to shatter all his bones without killing him, the full-body dislocation was torture enough. Even with recovery, he would bear hidden injuries.

And then there was Yun Feng, the real demon!

Just then, footsteps approached, drawing nearer.

"The madam at the chicken coop said Bule took a girl this way. Did he find a prize and keep it to himself?" said a voice, rich and magnetic, the kind that could captivate women over thirty.

"This guy insists on working solo, and now we have to fetch him," another voice chimed in, grating and duck-like, its sleaziness evoking a sense of disgust.

Hearing these voices, Bule, half-conscious, perked up. Thankfully, his jaw wasn't dislocated. Mustering his soul power, he called out weakly, "Old Goose, Tianya, I'm here."

The two voices halted abruptly, followed by hurried footsteps. Two figures quickly appeared before Bule.

"Is that you, Bule?" the rich baritone asked incredulously. In the moonlight, the speaker was tall and broad-shouldered, with a wild mane of hair. His most striking feature was his tiny eyes, mere slits that seemed perpetually closed.

"Bule, what happened to you?" The other man crouched beside Bule, his face serious, though his appearance was more grotesque than either Bule's or Old Goose's. He was emaciated, with large, yellowish eyes emitting a sinister gleam and a pair of twitching mouse-like whiskers.

These two, appearing around Bule's age, had dropped their jovial facade, looking solemn.

The scrawny man, Tianya, swiftly examined Bule, muttering curses. His yellow eyes showed a hint of red. "This is brutal—Bule's limbs are dislocated, five ribs broken, and his neck is fractured in three places. It'll take months to heal."

"And worst of all, Bule's... thing is cooked."

"Cooked? Tianya, what do you mean?" Old Goose was shocked.

Tianya sighed, "Can't you smell the roast chicken aroma?"

"Bule's loss is too great. Bones can heal, but... the roast chicken..."

With that, Tianya raised his right hand, a green light flashing as a blade appeared. Five soul rings materialized—one white, two yellow, two purple. Though ordinary in attributes, he was a solid rank fifty-plus Soul King.

The blade was a broken sword, waist-high, with a broad blade and a glowing green hue—a weapon spirit battle soul master. 

"Bule, sorry, but if we don't cut it off, it'll get worse."

Bule understood the severity. Yun Feng's treatment had stopped his injuries from worsening, but hadn't addressed that issue. The vitality was already gone.

Hearing this, Bule nodded tearfully. "Do it!"

The green light flashed, the blade fell, and with a soft thud, something hit the ground. Strangely, Bule made no sound, but tears of humiliation and anger streamed down his face.

"I want revenge. I want them to suffer."

Yet, he excluded Yun Feng from this vendetta, knowing Yun Feng held his life in his hands. As a transmigrator, Bule understood the tropes of web novels. Yun Feng was clearly the protagonist. Provoking him was too dangerous unless absolutely necessary.

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