Chapter 57 – The Divine Song and the Sage's Shame
Rakshasa's Dimension.
In a dimension of the Divine Realm where the sky is the color of bruised purple and the air tastes of oxidized iron, the Rakshasa God sat upon a throne of obsidian thorns. To a mortal, years had passed since the "incident" in the Supreme Pontiff's Palace, but in the higher dimensions of the God Realm, time flowed like thick honey. One day in the heavens is one year in the mortal world. To Rakshasa, it had only been a few days since her connection to Bibi Dong was nearly severed by a golden, ancient script she didn't recognize.
She had intended to abandon Bibi Dong, to strip her of the god-succession for allowing a mortal boy to "purify" her. But she had been stopped.
A rift had opened in her sanctuary, and from it stepped... Herself. A future version of the Rakshasa God, her armor cracked and her eyes filled with a terror that shouldn't belong to a Fourth-Dimensional being.
"Do not strip her of her status as your succecor", the Future Rakshasa had warned, her voice trembling. "The boy, Lakan... he is the key. If you stay connected to Bibi Dong, you stay connected to Him. It is the only way to survive what comes."
"Survive?" the present Rakshasa sneered. "I am a God. I can traverse any 3D space and time as easily as a mortal walks through a door. Even the God Kings, those 5D entities who peer into infinite parallel timelines, cannot simply erase a God of my standing."
Suddenly, the conversation died. The very fabric of the Divine Realm vibrated.
A Song. It was ethereal, majestic, and carried the weight of a billion suns. It was the Divine Chant of the Adarna, but amplified to a cosmic scale. Following the song came a Voice, resonant, male, and so powerful it made the purple stars of the Rakshasa dimension flicker out in fear.
"You have trespassed against the River of Time without a permit, Rakshasa of the Future."
The Future Rakshasa didn't even have time to scream. Another wave of music—a beautiful, terrifying resonance—hit her. She didn't just die; she ceased to exist. She vanished from the past, the present, and the future as if the universe had simply edited her out of the script.
The present Rakshasa fell from her throne, gasping, her divine form shivering. The presence remained for a moment—a watchful, solar gaze that felt like it was looking through her soul. Then, it vanished.
Back in the present, Rakshasa clutched her chest. "He is watching," she whispered, her eyes wide with a new, submissive fear. "Bibi Dong... you lucky, wretched woman. You've found a master even the Heavens fear."
•••••••••••
The heavy doors of the Supreme Pontiff's Hall creaked open. Yu Scumgang walked in, his back straight, trying to project the image of the "Grandmaster." He expected to see a lonely, longing Bibi Dong.
Instead, he saw a scene that made his stomach turn with a jealous, confused heat.
Bibi Dong sat on her high throne, more beautiful and radiant than he had ever seen her. Standing beside her, his hand resting casually on the arm of her throne, was Lakan.
"Xiaogang," Bibi Dong said, her voice devoid of the warmth he expected. "You've traveled a long way to see a woman you abandoned for twenty years. What could possibly be so important?"
"Dong-... we need to talk. Privately," Scumgang said, his eyes darting to Lakan.
"There are no secrets between the Holy Son and I," she replied coldly.
Lakan's hand moved. Beneath the line of the throne's armrest, hidden from Scumgang's view, his fingers brushed against Bibi Dong's silk-clad thigh, slowly moving upward. Bibi Dong's breath hitched almost imperceptibly. Her face flushed a faint, deep rose, her eyes clouding with a mixture of shame and an addictive, secret thrill. Her own hand dropped to Lakan's waist, her fingers tracing slow, firm strokes along his side.
The Supreme Pontiff of the Martial Soul Hall was being "naughty" in front of the man who claimed to love her, and Scumgang was too blind to see it.
"I've come for Tang San," Scumgang said, his voice pleading. "He's a twin-soul master. He's suffering. For the sake of our past affection, Dong'er... tell me how you survived the twin-soul cultivation. Don't let his talent go to waste."
Lakan let out a sharp, mocking laugh that echoed through the hall.
"Talent?" Lakan stepped forward, his eyes flashing silver. "You talk of talent, Yu Xiaogang? You, who spent twenty years in our library 'researching' only to produce a list of Plagiarism? Your 'Ten Core Competencies' are nothing more than common knowledge from ancient scrolls that you slapped your name on."
"That's not true! I organized them! I proved-----"
"You proved nothing," Lakan interrupted, his voice cutting like a blade. "Your theory: 'There are no useless martial souls, only useless masters.' Look at yourself, Scumgang. Your Luo Sanpao was meant to be the Golden Holy Dragon, a pinnacle of light. But because you are 'trash'—not in power, but in spirit—it mutated into a flatulent pig-dog. You are the living contradiction of your own theory."
Bibi Dong leaned back, her body leaning into Lakan's touch, a small, cruel smile on her lips. "He is right, Xiaogang. You come here begging for the secrets of the Twin Souls, yet you've already stolen the Distraction Heart Control from the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Sect. You use a young girl's loyalty to Ning Rongrong to strip her family of their legacy. You and your disciple are exactly the same: Thieves."
"I did it for the greater good!" Scumgang shouted, his face turning a humiliated purple.
"The 'Greater Good' is just the name you give your own greed," Lakan sneered. "You stole your theories from the Hall. Tang San stole his techniques from a world that doesn't exist. You are two parasites huddling together for warmth."
Bibi Dong stood up, her aura as a Titled Douluo,now purified and vastly more powerful, descending on Scumgang like a physical weight.
"You want the secret of the Twin Souls?" she asked. "Here is the secret: It requires a soul that isn't rotted by cowardice. It requires a heart that doesn't run away when things get difficult."
She looked at Lakan, her eyes softening in a way that made Scumgang's heart shatter. "Lakan is my Holy Son. He is the future. You, Xiaogang... you are a footnote in a book I've already burned."
"Dong'er... please..."
"Don't call me that. Kneel," she commanded.
"What?"
"Kneel before the Holy Son," Bibi Dong said, her voice echoing with the authority of the Rakshasa and the Sovereign combined. "Acknowledge the true 'Grandmaster' of this era, and perhaps I'll let you leave this city alive."
Scumgang looked at the 14-year-old boy. He looked at the girl he had once "loved" who was now looking at him with nothing but pity. Slowly, his knees hit the cold marble floor.
Lakan looked down at him, his hand still lingering on Bibi Dong's waist. "Go back to your Shrek shack, Scumgang. Tell Tang San to enjoy his 'stolen' hammer. We'll be waiting in the Finals. And remind him... a thief can never truly own the sky."
As Scumgang was dragged out of the hall by the guards, sobbing and broken, Bibi Dong leaned her head against Lakan's shoulder, her face still flushed.
"That was... remarkably degrading," she whispered, her voice trembling with the excitement she had tried to hide.
Lakan smiled, his eyes reflecting the silver light of the Sovereign. "Only the beginning, Mommy Dong'er. Only the beginning."