"Uncle She Long, Bishop Robert will be arriving soon. As the Bishop of Spirit Hall here, let him handle it."
The voice was calm, almost lazy, yet it carried a subtle majesty that froze She Long’s movents mid-step.
He and Ci Xue both turned sharply, their gazes drawn to the backyard of the branch. Their expressions shifted from confusion to shock.
Leaning casually against the carriage, Qian Renxue stood there as if she had been there the entire ti, her golden hair catching the morning light. Her eyes were half-closed, as though none of this noisy chaos outside mattered in the slightest.
The two Titled Douluo trembled inwardly.
‘The carriage… it’s only fifteen ters away. How could we not sense her at all?!’
They exchanged a quick glance, and in each other’s eyes was the sa storm of disbelief. For them, Titled Douluo, to completely miss the presence of soone so close… it was inconceivable.
She Long quickly steadied his expression, hiding the shock deep inside. He stepped forward, his voice like a ringing gong that carried over the unrest of the crowd.
"Wait! Bishop Robert will soon co with your explanation."
The sudden firmness in his tone cut across the angry chants. The crowd, already restless, grew quieter. The thought of angering a mysterious powerhouse of Spirit Hall was not sothing most dared to risk.
Tai Tan snorted loudly, his fat body shaking with the sound. But his eyes glinted with mischief as he smiled inwardly.
‘Fine, let’s see how you talk your way out of this. You Spirit Hall dogs can’t shake off the truth so easily.’
Monts later, the heavy doors of the Spirit Hall branch creaked open. Bishop Robert erged, robes straightened, his expression calm though a sheen of sweat dampened his brow. In his hands he carried a long scroll, sealed with Spirit Hall’s insignia.
The murmuring of the crowd stilled as he stepped into the open space, his presence commanding attention.
He stopped just behind She Long and Ci Xue, then unfurled the scroll with a deliberate motion. The crisp sound of parchnt echoed in the silence.
"This," Bishop Robert declared, his voice amplified with spirit power, "is the official proof of receipt, signed by both parties. Spirit Hall has already paid the full amount for this order to the Blacksmith Association of Gengxin City."
A ripple of confusion spread through the crowd. The murmurs rose again, but this ti uncertain, wavering.
Robert continued smoothly, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
"Since the Blacksmith Association accepted the commission, they are responsible for paying their blacksmiths. Spirit Hall has no obligation to distribute wages directly. That is the Association’s duty."
He let his gaze sweep across the restless faces before him. His tone shifted slightly, becoming lighter, even tinged with warmth:
"It seems our order was too grand, too famous. Perhaps in your eagerness, you assud Spirit Hall itself would pay you. But in truth, the Association you serve holds your paynt. You should not mistake our na for their negligence."
The words struck the crowd like cold water. The blacksmiths who had shouted angrily earlier now looked at one another, hesitant.
An old man frowned deeply, muttering, "Could it… be the money will be given with the wages at the end of the month?"
Another grumbled, "Did anyone get clarified about it at the association?"
The chants dwindled into silence, replaced by confusion and doubt.
For the mont, the fire Tai Tan had fanned into flas was smothered by Robert’s scroll and smooth tongue.
However, Tai Tan’s face was flushed red, his eyes bloodshot as if reason itself had slipped from his grasp. He lurched forward, his heavy steps shaking the stone tiles beneath him, and snatched the scroll of receipt from Bishop Robert’s hands with force.
"This is impossible!" he roared, the veins on his neck bulging. His voice cracked like thunder, sharp and ugly, resounding across the square.
The blacksmiths he had incited earlier looked at him in shock. So exchanged uneasy glances, was the Patriarch of the Strength Clan truly unaware of how commissions worked?
Because in reality, unlike many of the past disputes Tai Tan exploited, this order had indeed been accepted and processed through the Blacksmith Association, leaving them responsible for the distribution of wages.
Could it be that Tai Tan, once hailed as one of the Divine Blacksmiths of his generation, was truly foolish enough to overlook such an obvious point? Or perhaps… in his obsession with humiliating Spirit Hall, he had deliberately blinded himself to the truth.
From the side, Qian Renxue’s half-lidded purple eyes flickered, reflecting Tai Tan’s large figure. Her lips curved slightly, the faintest glimr of mockery hidden in her indifference.
"Martial Soul: Vigorous Orangutan!"
With a thunderous cry, Tai Tan’s body expanded grotesquely.
His back hunched as thick cords of muscle erupted, tearing the fabric of his robe apart. His arms ballooned in size, covered in dense, bristling brown fur. The air shook as he pounded his chest, the sound like war drums echoing over the square. His jaw jutted forward, fangs bared, and his bloodshot eyes glared with savage fury.
Behind him, eight soul rings rose up in sequence: Two yellow, Three purple,Three black, oppressive soul rings. A chorus of gasps rippled through the crowd.
"Eight rings… he’s a Soul Douluo!"
"As expected of the Patriarch of the Strength Clan…"
Tai Tan roared and raised a colossal fist, his killing intent bearing down like an avalanche.
But before his strike could descend, a cold weight pressed down on his shoulder.
----
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