Spirit Hall – Saint's Room
The scent of incense hung heavy in the air — but it did nothing to calm her.
Bibi Dong paced like a predator in a cage, robes snapping behind her like dark silk wings. The Saint's Room, once her sanctuary, now pressed in on her like a suffocating womb.
She had done it.
Qian Xunji was dead.
Her revenge — completed.
But there was no peace.
Only the festering whisper of power left unclaimed… and bloodlines left unbroken.
"It should not end with him."
That voice again. Her own, or something darker — it didn't matter.
"The Qian bloodline… should be erased. All of it."
Her fists clenched, nails biting into her palm. She had thought the death of Xunji would silence that voice, but it had only made it hungrier.
She paused, gaze flicking to the golden drapes at the altar.
A different thought bloomed now. A sharper one. Clearer.
The throne was empty.
Daoliu, old and burdened, could not take it.
Qian Renxue — her daughter, the girl who wore Xunji's face— was still too young, too raw.
"But I… I am strong. I endured."
"I bled for Spirit Hall. I was used by its Pope. And I gave birth to its future."
Her eyes flared.
"I am owed. A debt paid in power."
Suddenly, she turned. Her decision was made.
Spirit Hall – Inner Sanctum
She stormed through the white-veined corridors until the towering obsidian doors of the High Altar loomed ahead.
Just as she reached for the bronze ring, the doors opened.
A man emerged, cloaked head to toe in travel wraps. His face hidden. His presence ghostly.
She paused — something about him unsettled her. A scent of sea and silence lingered in his wake.
She turned to look, but he was already gone.
Strange.
But no matter.
She stepped inside.
Twelve robed figures sat around the dais. The air was colder here. Still. Watching.
At the center, high above, sat the Grand Worshipper, Qian Daoliu.
His eyes, half-lidded, regarded her with neither warmth nor hatred.
"What do you want?"
His voice filled the chamber, flat as a blade laid on stone.
Bibi Dong inhaled — then spoke.
"I come to claim the mantle of Supreme Pontiff."
"With the death of Qian Xunji, a vacuum stands over the soul world. You know I speak true."
"I have served Spirit Hall longer than any living soul master. I have bled for its banner. I have endured humiliation… pain…" Her voice dipped. "Rape."
Some Worshippers stirred. Others looked away.
"I am also the mother of Qian Renxue — the rightful heir. But she is still a child."
"Until she can ascend… I will lead in her stead."
Her voice rang with iron certainty.
Then silence.
Thick. Cold.
She waited.
And then—
"No."
The word struck like a hammer.
She stepped forward, anger sparking. "Why not? Who else has claim? Who else has the right—?!"
Daoliu did not blink.
"There is one who is qualified."
"And he is coming."
Her breath caught.
"Who?"
But he did not answer.
Only silence.
Only shadow.
Only the echo of footsteps that had already left the chamber…
…and the storm that walked with them.