The Pope's Hall of Spirit Hall stood in silent majesty. Its golden pillars glimmered like dawn, the air thrumming faintly with sacred power.
Into this solemn space stepped a girl clad in flowing golden silk. The palace dress lacked unnecessary ornamentation, elegant through simplicity alone. A high collar circled her snow-pale neck, framing a face as delicate as it was proud. Long golden hair cascaded down her back, while above her brows glimmered faintly the sigil of a six-winged angel.
Qian Renxue moved forward, every step echoing against marble. Her youthful beauty was enough to dazzle nations—yet opposite her stood a woman who rivaled her effortlessly.
On a high dais sat a striking figure robed in black and gold. A purple-gold crown crowned her head, and in her slender hands rested a long papal scepter studded with gems that shimmered like stars. Her flawless skin glowed under the hall's faint light, and the noble curves of her figure radiated authority.
Her aura—mature, dignified, intoxicating—made the young Saint seem yet a step below.
This was Bibi Dong, the supreme Pope. The woman hailed as the strongest below heaven. And to Qian Renxue, she was also something far more conflicting—her own mother.
The Pope's cold gaze swept down upon her. Her voice rang strong, laden with authority.
"Your breath is chaotic. It has been a long time since I've seen you lose composure so. Did I not tell you? Unless absolutely necessary, do not come here. You are not Qian Renxue of the Hall now. You are Crown Prince Xue Qinghe of Tiandou."
The gemmed scepter tapped the ground once. Its sound rumbled like a thunderclap.
Qian Renxue's steps slowed. For a moment, her heart quaked. Yet she raised her chin, the angel mark upon her brows shimmering faintly. "If this were trivial, do you think I would humble myself to stand here?"
Bibi Dong's pale fingers curled around her scepter. Her eyes, colder than polished obsidian, narrowed. "Then speak."
The tension between them was as ancient as it was sharp. Mother and daughter they were, but closeness had never warmed between them.
Bibi Dong—haunted by hatred toward Chihiro Ji, the loathsome man who had stained her past—could not look at the child she bore without bitterness.
Qian Renxue, raised devoid of a mother's love, had only the stern care of her grandfather Qian Daoliu. It was under his angelic shade that she grew into steel. Independence, ruthlessness, composure—traits honed by necessity, not nurture.
Thus now, when they stood face-to-face, the air rippled with contradiction. Love and loathing entwined.
"I…" Qian Renxue began, her lips trembling. Then she steadied herself, resolve burning beneath fragile grace. She took another step forward. "I have a request."
The Pope tilted her head faintly, surprise flickering behind the icy mask. "Request?"
Her daughter, proud to her marrow, almost never uttered such a word. Even in childhood, she had glared and resisted, never bowed. That Qian Renxue would come here and beg piqued her suspicion.
"What I can grant, Qian Daoliu can grant. He is stronger than I in some respects. He raised you—is he not whom you trust above me?"
Her tone cut deep, but beneath its sharpness was something else… perhaps the faintest curl of hurt.
Qian Renxue's brows furrowed. "Grandfather has withdrawn from worldly matters long ago. You know this. He guards only the Angel Temple. Unless the sky itself collapses, he will not stir."
Her words rang true. In Douluo Continent's age, three peerless extremes shone: Bo Saixi in the ocean, Tang Chen upon land, and her own grandfather Qian Daoliu beneath the heavens.
All three touched the realm of Limit Douluo, surpassing all others. But though his power was peerless, Qian Daoliu's hands no longer reached into the game of thrones.
"And this matter," Renxue continued steadily, "is not one I can entrust to him. Only you, Pope Bibi Dong, can intervene."
The Pope's eyes narrowed, sharp amusement sliding across her exquisite face. "So tell me then… has your cover been pierced by Snow Night? Has Haotian Sect descended its mountain? Or perhaps…" She leaned forward slightly, voice like silk lined with daggers. "Did you uncover secrets of the soul beasts?"
Renxue stiffened. "The… soul beast change?"
Bibi Dong's eyes flickered faintly with disappointment. "So you've not heard. Then listen: more than a month ago, Ghost and Chrysanthemum Douluo witnessed something unimaginable. The Titan Giant Ape appeared at the forest's edge. A 100,000-year King Beast. The very king of the forest."
Her voice was serene, yet the weight of her words could crush.
That monster's presence alone stirred tectonic ripples. For countless years such kings had never been glimpsed outside the innermost depths. To emerge at the periphery begged omen.
"I had planned to hunt it myself. A hundred-thousand-year ring, a soul bone—enough to accelerate our Hall's might to heights unseen. It may yet reshape the world."
Renxue murmured, stunned. Yes, she had heard whispers, brushed them aside as rumor. To hear her mother utter it with certainty chilled her.
But she shook her head. "Whatever the forest hides, it is not why I came."
Golden fire blazed in her eyes.
"I came to ask you to intervene with the Blue Lightning Tyrant Dragon clan. To demand a person from them."
The Pope's smile vanished. Her scepter struck the floor. The deep voice of authority cracked through the hall: "A person?"
Her lashes lowered, concealing thoughts beneath dark silk. "…Do you mean… a boy?"
At her age, for Qian Renxue to show such urgency over "a boy" was too telling. And this "boy" came from the Blue Lightning sect—the very clan she held in contempt above all.
The memory tasted bitter. Bibi Dong's beloved man, Yu Xiaogang, had been mocked, spat on, abandoned by that very family as worthless waste. When years later she unleashed Spirit Hall's wrath to annihilate the clan, it was not for strategy. It was vengeance, fury on behalf of her love.
And now her daughter of all people stood before her, asking her to intercede with that same clan—for some child.
She scoffed coldly, a sound like ice breaking. "Qian Renxue. For a boy, you would face the Tyrannosaurus sect? This is unlike you. You've grown too sentimental."
Renxue's gaze did not flinch. Her lips trembled but steadied into a razor smile. "Yes. For a boy. Not just any boy. He is… different."
Bibi Dong's scepter gleamed, soul power rippling faintly. "Different enough to risk dragging our Hall into confrontation too soon? Explain yourself. Or I shall take this as childish folly."
Renxue stepped forward, golden hair swaying, the mark of the angel flickering like firelight.
And with a voice thick with hidden longing she dared not name, she whispered:
"His name… is Subei."
The Pope's eyes widened—not at the name itself, but at the storm that swirled behind her proud daughter's gaze.
A boy… strong enough, dazzling enough, that even her daughter had come down from the clouds to beg.
Bibi Dong's heart sank with a strange unease.