Dusk settled over Spirit City like a gauzy veil.
Dai Chengfeng and Zhu Zhuqing walked side by side on their way back to the Spirit Hall, paper bags in hand—filled with little trinkets bought during their afternoon stroll.
Soul-guided lanterns along the street flickered to life one by one, casting warm, golden halos onto the stone pavement.
The evening breeze carried a hint of chill, tousling the strands of hair at Zhu Zhuqing's forehead. She turned her head slightly, glancing at Dai Chengfeng beside her.
"Tired?"
He noticed her gaze and turned, taking the bags from her hands.
Zhu Zhuqing shook her head gently—and leaned closer, their arms nearly brushing.
"Not tired. It's just… been a long time since I've walked like this."
"There'll be many more days like this," he said softly.
Zhu Zhuqing didn't reply. Instead, she rested her head on his shoulder, breathing in his familiar, comforting scent.
The unpleasant encounter with Dai Mubai in the alley had long since faded from her mind.
They strolled slowly, unhurried, unconcerned with time.
Occasional passersby glanced their way—drawn by Zhu Zhuqing's cool beauty and Dai Chengfeng's striking presence—but seeing their obvious closeness, they'd simply smile knowingly and walk on.
"Hungry?"
Dai Chengfeng asked, nodding toward a small shop ahead. "There's a place up front. Their food's good."
Zhu Zhuqing looked up. At the street corner, steam curled from a modest eatery, its lantern swaying gently in the night breeze.
"Alright."
The shop was small—only five or six tables inside. The dinner rush had passed; only two were occupied.
An elderly owner greeted them warmly, ushering them to a seat.
Their simple meal lasted nearly half an hour.
As they left, the smiling proprietor called out, "Come again soon!"
Dai Chengfeng tipped him five extra copper soul coins. "The soup was excellent."
Night deepened. Fewer pedestrians wandered the streets.
Hand in hand, they walked in comfortable silence, savoring the quiet.
The towering silhouette of the Spirit Hall gradually emerged ahead—its illuminated halls glowing like a mountain of light against the dark sky.
By the time they reached their quarters, it was well past the third watch of Hai Hour.
"I'll heat some water," Dai Chengfeng set down their bags and turned toward the kitchen.
But Zhu Zhuqing caught his sleeve. "Together."
The bathroom was small—but spacious enough for two.
Steam soon filled the air, fogging the mirror and softening their outlines.
Dai Chengfeng washed her hair, fingers massaging her scalp with gentle pressure.
Zhu Zhuqing closed her eyes, melting into the warmth of his touch.
Afterward, he wrapped her in a large towel and carried her bridal-style into the bedroom.
He laid her on the bed, then joined her, pulling her into his arms.
Zhu Zhuqing nestled against him naturally—head on his arm, one hand resting on his waist.
Night was still. Only distant crickets broke the silence.
Moonlight spilled through the window, dappling their bodies with shifting patterns.
Dai Chengfeng's hand traced slow circles on her bare back, fingertips gliding along the dip of her spine, savoring the silkiness of her skin.
Zhu Zhuqing shivered faintly—but didn't pull away. Instead, she burrowed deeper into his chest.
"Tomorrow's arena match…"
She spoke suddenly, breaking the quiet.
Dai Chengfeng didn't pause. "Hmm?"
"Are you confident?"
She lifted her eyes to his.
He smiled, dipping his head to kiss her lips lightly. "Do you think I'll lose?"
Zhu Zhuqing shook her head—but her brow furrowed. "I know you're far stronger than them—even if you suppress your soul power to Level 30. But…"
She hesitated. "I heard Tang San has… unusual methods. Something called 'hidden weapons.'"
"They say it's a special weapon that doesn't require soul power to operate—impossible to guard against."
Dai Chengfeng stilled, eyes sharpening with thought.
Worry tinged Zhu Zhuqing's voice. "Those weapons are treacherous."
"And Tang San himself… His soul power is clearly low, yet he fights far beyond his rank. His combat style is completely different from ours."
Dai Chengfeng nodded, fingers idly tracing circles on her shoulder.
"The only real threat tomorrow is Tang San's hidden weapons."
"Dai Mubai's White Tiger martial soul is domineering, but worthless against me. Ma Hongjun's Evil Fire Phoenix has flaws. Oscar's support role is negligible. Only Tang San…"
He paused. "His combat awareness and those strange techniques… they're worth watching."
"How will you counter them?" Zhu Zhuqing asked.
Dai Chengfeng considered. "Hidden weapons are dangerous only because they're unexpected."
"But if you're prepared, their threat vanishes."
"So tomorrow… I won't give him the chance."
Zhu Zhuqing nodded, tension easing—but her brow remained slightly furrowed.
"Still… be careful. I feel Tang San isn't that simple."
"Mm."
Dai Chengfeng pulled her closer, chin resting on her hair. "Against absolute strength, tricks are meaningless."
Zhu Zhuqing lifted her head, found his lips in the dark, and kissed him.
After a long moment, she pulled back slightly. "Sleep now. We rise early tomorrow."
"Alright."
He adjusted her position, settling her more comfortably.
Zhu Zhuqing drifted off quickly, breaths deepening into an even rhythm.
Dai Chengfeng stayed awake, watching her sleep, fingertips tracing her brows and cheeks—heart full of tenderness.
But just as drowsiness claimed him, he sensed something.
His brow twitched almost imperceptibly.
Carefully, he slid his arm from under her head, rose soundlessly, tucked the quilt around her, kissed her forehead—and slipped out, closing the door behind him.
His own room was nearby. Pushing the door open, he froze—then his eyes flickered with understanding… and faint amusement.
Inside, someone sat in the chair by the window.
Moonlight poured through, silvering her silhouette.
She wore a deep violet gown, its hem pooling on the floor, outlining her graceful curves.
Her long hair cascaded like a waterfall, gleaming with dark purple luster in the moonlight. She gazed out the window—her profile so exquisite it seemed unreal, yet radiating untouchable nobility.
At the sound of the door, she turned.
Her face was breathtaking—brows like inked brushstrokes, lips crimson as pomegranate seeds. But it was her eyes that captivated most.
Deep violet orbs—seeming to draw one's very soul into their depths.
Now, they held a faint, knowing smile… yet brimmed with unapproachable authority.
The visitor was none other than Bibi Dong, Pope of the Spirit Hall.
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