On the other side sat a tall, elegant man in azure-blue robes, the faint outline of a great luan bird shimmering behind him like a phantom of the sky.
"Azure Luan Douluo," she continued. "Fourth Worship — unmatched in aerial combat."
Further along, a round, heavyset elder leaned back, eyes half-closed, his massive frame radiating raw, crushing strength.
"Fifteen Ton Douluo — Fifth Worship. A single blow from him will sink a battleship."
The Sixth Worship, Glowing Feather Douluo, sat with calm poise, his white-feathered mantle catching the light like falling snow. Next to him, a lean figure draped in deep crimson robes — the Seventh Worship, Falling Devil Douluo — exuded a faint but palpable killing intent.
Together, their combined aura was suffocating. The air felt heavier with every step Dave took forward.
At last, Qian Daoliu spoke without turning, his deep voice rolling through the hall like the toll of a temple bell.
"You have taken your sweet time before meeting us," he said.
Dave gave a loose shrug. "No need to rush. I'm from your camp anyway."
That earned the faintest nod from Qian Daoliu. The elders exchanged quiet glances, the weight of their combined presence pressing in like an ocean.
Ling Yuan, who had been sent to watch over Dave earlier, stood silently to the side. She had witnessed his strength firsthand — and now, standing among these titans, she could see the truth clearly. Every figure seated in this hall was an Ultimate Douluo, their spirit power at the absolute peak: Level 99.
And it was all thanks to Dave. The tips he had shared, the profound meditation methods he had taught, had pushed each of them past the bottlenecks that had trapped them for decades.
If the other great sects and powers of the continent were to learn of this, they would shudder in fear. One Ultimate Douluo alone could dominate a nation; here, the Spirit Hall held not one, but eight of them under a single banner.
Even Ling Yuan herself, already at an astonishing Level 98, owed her rapid progress to those same cultivation methods.
Qian Daoliu finally turned his gaze toward Dave, his golden eyes sharp yet unreadable. "You have given us much… but you must understand, strength attracts enemies. What you have done has shifted the balance of the entire continent. From this day, the Spirit Hall will not move unnoticed — and neither will you."
The Golden Crocodile Douluo leaned forward slightly, a faint smile curling his lips. "Which means, boy… the storm is coming. Be ready for it."
"Sister Yuan will continue to protect you," he added, "though I suspect that's no longer necessary — she tells us there is now an Ultimate Douluo on your side."
He was referring to Signora.
"Well, as you know, we're from a hidden family," Dave replied casually. "They found out I was here, so they sent her to watch over me in secret. She only revealed herself when I was in danger."
The elders exchanged thoughtful nods.
This was the part Dave had explained before — the lie he spun — that he and his friends came from a hidden family, one with influence far beyond the public eye, and that they had sneaked out to roam the world.
"Hm. Did they not force you to come back?" Qian Daoliu asked, his tone calm but probing.
"No," Dave replied casually. "My progress is satisfactory, so they let us wander around."
Well, it's not like we even have a hidden family to go back to, he thought inwardly, keeping his expression neutral. The others nodded slowly, accepting his words.
"By the way," Qian Daoliu continued, "why are you and the rest even in the Spirit Master competition?"
Dave shrugged lightly. "I wouldn't be particpating in, and the others wouldn't want to either. But it's better this way — we're too strong, after all."
The Grand Worship studied him for a long moment before giving a slight nod, though his eyes still held questions unspoken.
The oppressive air slowly eased as the conversation shifted to lighter matters. The elders asked about the competition's opening matches, the state of the arenas, and even about the food in Spirit City. Dave answered each question with casual ease, steering the talk away from anything too revealing.
Eventually, Qian Daoliu rose from his seat, signaling the end of the audience.
"You may go," he said simply.
Dave inclined his head in acknowledgment and turned to leave. The vast golden doors of the Worship Hall closed heavily behind him.
Waiting just outside was Ghost Douluo, his shadowy form flickering faintly in the torchlight.
"The Pope requests your presence," Ghost Douluo said, his voice like a dry whisper.
Dave gave a small nod. "Lead the way."
The two moved through the grand corridors of Spirit Hall, the faint echo of their footsteps following them. Golden murals lined the walls, depicting the rise of the Hall's founders, the conquest of rival sects, and the rule of the Pope.
Finally, Ghost Douluo stopped before a tall set of intricately carved doors. He pushed them open, revealing a spacious, sunlit chamber.
Seated at the far end, upon the raised throne of the Pope's Hall, was Bibi Dong.
She was dressed in her ceremonial pope's attire — flowing white and gold robes that shimmered faintly in the sunlight streaming from the high windows. The ornate crown atop her head framed her flawless features, but it was the quiet, commanding beauty in her gaze that made Dave pause for half a breath.
She was breathtaking — elegant and regal, yet with an undercurrent of something sharper, like a blade wrapped in silk.
"Dave," she said softly, her voice carrying easily across the hall. "We meet at last."
"Do you know me?" Dave asked, feigning surprise, tilting his head as if he weren't the one who had stepped in to save her life before.
Bibi Dong didn't answer immediately. She simply rose from her throne, her eyes never leaving his. "Everyone else, leave," she commanded.
The attendants and guards bowed and withdrew in silence, the massive doors closing with a muted thud.
Now, only she and Dave remained in the grand hall.
"You may not know me well," she said at last, her voice soft but carrying a weight beneath it, "but I am, in truth… in your debt."
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