Douluo: Transforming Xiao Wu into a Zerg Queen Was Just the Beginning-Chapter 99 - 100: Old Jack’s Death! Tang Hao’s Collapse

Creak—!

The decrepit wooden door was slowly pushed open, letting out a jarring screech that grated on the ears.

The latch atop the door had long since rotted away, covered in layers of sticky moss.

Yet the middle-aged man didn't seem to notice at all. He grabbed the latch and shoved the door open with force.

Inside, an old man with a hunched back and snow-white hair sat on a small wooden bed, his back turned to the visitor. His hands fiddled with something in his lap.

The cramped room was shrouded in darkness.

The walls were coated with patches of slimy, purple-black moss, eerily similar to the strange dark grass that covered the path outside of Saint Spirit Village.

The air was thick with dampness and shadow.

A pungent metallic stench, like rusted iron, permeated the room and assaulted the man's nostrils.

He frowned instinctively.

Staring at the hunched figure on the bed, the man's hands beneath his cloak clenched into trembling fists.

"...Old Jack."

His voice was low and hesitant as he called out to the old man on the bed.

Crack—!

A sharp sound suddenly rang out within the room.

Old Jack's hands froze mid-motion. Slowly—unnaturally—his head began to turn.

The vertebrae in his neck cracked like firecrackers, popping one after another as he twisted his head around.

But his body didn't move an inch. It remained seated, unmoving, still facing away from the visitor.

Bit by bit, inch by inch, Old Jack's head rotated back...

Until it reached a grotesque angle—crack!—with one final wrench, his head spun fully around.

A complete 180 degrees.

His eyes were bloodshot, riddled with ruptured veins, glaring directly at the man.

And yet, his body still faced away—rigidly seated on the bed.

His skin was pale and dried like shriveled bark, lacking any trace of life or color.

From his eye sockets, writhing, fleshy tendrils pulsed out, twitching and slithering around his eyeballs like parasite feelers.

Then, a voice croaked from his blood-colored lips:

"...Ah. Tang Hao."

Old Jack's mouth twisted into a grotesque smile, halfway between mockery and agony.

His voice was hoarse and grating—like stone scraping violently across metal—harsh enough to pierce one's skull.

"It's been so long... Tang Hao... Why did you only come back now?! Why only now?!"

His eyes bulged grotesquely, blood pouring from his mouth, drenching the front of his tattered robes in crimson.

His voice rose to a shrill, brain-piercing screech that clawed at Tang Hao's mind.

Seeing this horrific sight, Tang Hao remained silent.

The last fragile hope he clung to was utterly shattered. Beneath his cloak, his broad shoulders trembled.

A sorrowful aura emanated from his body.

He stared at Old Jack and finally spoke, voice low and heavy. "Old Jack... what happened to the village? Why did you... become like this?"

But Old Jack didn't seem to hear him.

Instead, he began to crawl toward Tang Hao, limbs dragging awkwardly across the floor.

His withered lips still shouted:

"Tang Hao! Tang Hao! You're finally back!"

Creak... creak...

As he moved, the object Old Jack had been fiddling with fell from the bed.

It was... an arm.

A young, delicate arm.

Tattered scraps of red cloth still clung to it.

Blackened bite marks were visible on the flesh, and dozens of holes had been stitched together with dark thread—like a ritual pattern.

Thick purple-black blood oozed from the pinholes, staining the wooden bed with an eerie red glow.

Tang Hao stood frozen, staring. The last ember of hope in his heart crumbled to ash.

Seeing Old Jack lunging toward him, a wave of nausea surged in his chest.

It was a deep, repulsive disgust—one that made him want to vomit uncontrollably.

A feeling that rivaled that day...

His eyes began to glow faintly crimson.

"Get back! Get the hell away!!"

His roar rumbled like thunder.

Blood-red soul power erupted around his body, surging forth like a violent storm aimed directly at Old Jack.

Creak—!

Old Jack's withered form was swept up like a brittle leaf in a hurricane of soul power, tossed back and forth.

Finally—

His lower body couldn't withstand the pressure. It was torn apart and flung against the wall with a sickening crunch.

Yet his dried-out hands still clung tightly to Tang Hao's arm.

Even with his back still facing him, Old Jack's blood-red eyes locked with Tang Hao's. His pale face was on the brink of death.

In that instant, Tang Hao saw something in his gaze.

A flicker of resistance.

A sliver of the old man's familiar warmth and care.

Tang Hao's heart shuddered.

"...Tang Hao. Don't blame me."

"...Tang Hao... I know. Run. Now—Run!"

With the last of his strength, Old Jack shoved Tang Hao away.

"Old Jack!!"

Tang Hao choked up, reaching out to embrace what was left of the man's broken body.

Gurgle... gurgle—!

Suddenly, a strange sound came from within Old Jack's chest.

It was like water trickling—or something alive crawling through tunnels.

Old Jack's eyes clamped shut, and his breath stopped completely.

But his body convulsed violently.

Hiss—! Screech!

A blood-red inch-long worm emerged slowly from his corpse.

It squirmed, attempting to burrow into the floor.

Without hesitation, Tang Hao slammed his soul power down upon it.

Screech! Screech!

The worm thrashed violently, but when it failed to break free—it suddenly burst.

Pop!

Blood sprayed across the floor, bubbling as it hissed on contact.

The liquid was corrosive.

The house fell into silence once more.

Tang Hao stared, stunned, at what had just happened—then looked back at Old Jack's corpse.

Moments later, he bolted out of the house like a madman.

He stood alone on the street of Saint Spirit Village.

Looking down the path he'd walked before.

All the villagers he had fought—slain.

Now they all lay collapsed on the ground, withered and drained.

But without exception, every single one had a massive hole torn through their chest.

Not too large. Not too small.

Just enough... for a worm to crawl out.

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