Golden light shimmered through the vaulted arches of the Pope's Palace, spilling across white jade floors like liquid sun. Yet the atmosphere within was not warm—it was sharp, taut, cold.
Bibi Dong sat high upon the papal throne, her black-gold robes flowing like nightfall, her scepter gleaming with restrained power. Across from her, Qian Renxue stood, her golden hair stirring faintly as her angelic aura leaked unchecked.
For once, the proud young woman's eyes held anxiety. A rare sight.
"But he is worth it," Qian Renxue said, voice soft yet resolute.
"Worth it?" Bibi Dong laughed once, bitter and scornful. "What does that mean? Worth betraying your mission? Worth throwing away Tiandou Palace, even the future of our entire Hall? Nonsense. Go back. Return to the palace. Be the Crown Prince—you will not risk all this for a boy."
Her scepter tapped the ground with thunderous authority. Invisible force pushed out like a wave, shoving Qian Renxue back across the hall.
Yet Renxue's golden wings flared behind her. Feathers of light scattered across the stone, cracks splitting where her heels dug in. Her gaze sharpened with a righteous glare that matched her fiery heart.
"If you forbid me, then I'll act in the name of the Elder Hall itself. Even if it risks my identity being exposed, even if it delays the Spirit Hall's plans to annex Tiandou—so be it! I will not let him fall into the hands of the Blue Lightning Tyrant Dragon Clan unprotected."
Her voice rang like steel.
Bibi Dong's eyes chilled further, fury flickering within them. "You dare threaten me?"
"You think you can rewrite the Hall's priorities for the sake of a boy? Do you realize what folly that is? Your grandfather would never allow such sentiment to jeopardize us."
Renxue's hands curled into trembling fists, but her resolve did not waver. "Grandfather would understand when he saw his talent. He would do everything to keep such a jewel safe."
Her voice softened briefly, yet sharpened when she caught her mother's cool disdain. "And don't call him a man, as if mocking me. He is a boy, younger than me, and yet the most beautiful boy this continent has ever seen. I won't let you insult him, Mother."
For a moment, the hall fell deathly silent.
This proud daughter of angels, usually cold and untouchable, was arguing fiercely for… a child. Her usually aloof poise now burned with passion.
Bibi Dong narrowed her eyes. "…Talent, you say? The greatest talents are already in our Hall. Do you truly think this boy rivals them?"
Renxue bit out the words: "Seven years old. Already level fifteen. His martial soul is extraordinary. He sees through the grand pattern of the world, his insight piercing beyond common sense. And to me—his appearance, his existence, has become the only direction in my life."
The last words carried a tremor of feeling so clear it startled even herself.
Her mother's lips curled faintly at that, but instead of mocking, Bibi Dong's brows furrowed deeper.
Seven years old… level fifteen…
Even with her vast knowledge, even with the countless prodigies she had witnessed rise and fall, such numbers jolted her.
Common children, freshly awakened, usually crawled below level five after a year's struggle. To reach level fifteen at seven demanded either divine martial spirit or a cultivation miracle unseen in centuries.
Was this boy an exception? Or a sign of heaven's whim?
And knowledgeable, Renxue had stressed. Bibi Dong almost scoffed, yet her heart twitched faintly. She remembered another man's voice—one proud and foolish scholar of "theory," estranged and pitiful now in her memory.
Xiaogang…
Her hand tightened on the scepter. She despised Yu Xiaogang's betrayal, yet buried within her remained a thorn she could never extract: her first love. If not for him, perhaps she'd never have unleashed her fury on the Tyrant Dragons, never have slaughtered them to avenge him.
Had fate sent her daughter a boy who mirrored that old wound—but brighter, stronger, unbroken?
Her lips curved bitterly. "Perhaps…" she murmured under her breath.
Qian Renxue seized upon it instantly.
"He is indeed a genius," Bibi Dong admitted at last. Her tone steadied, cold but acknowledging. "If his martial soul carries no fatal flaws, he could reach Titled Douluo, even touch the extreme. Douluo like that are precious. If we could add him and Nana both, Spirit Hall's foundation for the future would be unshakable."
Renxue's eyes sparked with relief—her mother was wavering.
Yet Bibi Dong's voice hardened again. "But for me to personally march to that clan? Absurd. I am the Pope of Spirit Hall. Shall I debase myself at the Blue Lightning Clan's gate for a child? Never. I will dispatch Titled Douluo under my banner to make an 'invitation.' If he agrees, fine. If not, we lose nothing. That is my answer."
Renxue's jaw clenched. "That won't be enough. Yu Yuanzhen himself has taken him by force! Do you not understand? Without you, no one will make that beast let go."
Bibi Dong's eyes sharpened. "…You speak with certainty. It seems you are already too entangled."
Holding very still, Qian Renxue drew out a golden scroll from her ring. "Then see for yourself why I beg."
Wrapped in a layer of angelic light, the parchment floated into Bibi Dong's hand. Her jade fingers flicked, and the portrait unfurled.
The moment her eyes fell, the Pope of Spirit Hall—the woman feared across the continent as ice-cold, untouchable—hesitated.
The scroll revealed a boy reclining lazily under starlit brushstroke skies. His face was divine, features too exquisite to seem mortal, eyes like crescent moons reflecting galaxies. Elegance and helpless charm threaded through every curve of his lips, every tilt of his gaze.
Bibi Dong's breath caught. For an instant her incomparable composure fractured.
Her eyes widened, unable to look away. Slowly she whispered, almost reverent:
"…Beautiful."
"A child like this exists? More radiant than Pan An, more otherworldly than any angel's portrait…"
Her heart fluttered in a way it had never done for any peer. For a boy, she had scoffed at her daughter. Yet seeing even a painted image left her momentarily ensnared, her mind drifting strangely blank.
Qian Renxue's tone was grave. "This is only a portrait. In truth, he is far more dazzling."
Silence filled the hall.
At last, Bibi Dong drew in a slow breath. Her eyes cleared, though reluctance lingered. She closed the scroll.
"Very well." Her voice was low, but final.
"I will go myself."