The silence hung heavy in the hall.
Qian Renxue shook her head lightly, dispelling her brooding. She rose to her feet in a single, graceful motion, her robe whispering softly against the polished floor.
“Now is not the ti to obsess over that path. The story of Douluo Dalu 1… is about to begin.”
Her purple eyes glimred, sharp and cold.
“Tang San’s birth should be drawing near. Tang Hao and Ah Yin had gone to hiding roughly 9 months ago, now Ah Yin must be in labour. And Qian Xunji will soon move personally, to hunt the Blue Silver Emperor as the news of their location reaches him.”
She stepped out of the prayer hall, the sound of her footsteps echoing faintly against the stone corridors. The golden light receded behind her, replaced by the dimness of the hallway where candle flas flickered against the walls.
Turning a corner, she suddenly slowed.
Another figure approached from the opposite end, tall and imposing in black-gold robes embroidered with the sigil of Spirit Hall. His eyes were sharp as blades, his aura oppressive, yet not unrestrained. The person was Qian Xunji, the present Pope of Spirit Hall, a Level 95 Super Douluo.
Father and daughter crossed paths in the silent corridor.
For a heartbeat, their gazes brushed against one another—two predators. One pair of eyes carried the weight of ambition and paranoia, the other concealed sches beneath layers of calm.
No words were exchanged.
They rely nodded, like familiar strangers, acknowledging each other’s existence but never bridging the abyss between them.
Then, they passed by.
Qian Renxue did not turn her head. Neither did Qian Xunji. But behind their impassive facades, both were already calculating.
----
Qian Xunji’s boots echoed against the marble floor as he walked through the corridor, his hands clasped behind his back, his papal robe flowing like the wings of a dark bird. Outwardly, his posture was calm, composed, every inch the supre leader of Spirit Hall. But inside, ripples of thoughts and emotions surged like an untad sea.
“Renxue… my daughter.”
He replayed the mont their gazes had crossed. That fleeting instant where her purple eyes looked into his—calm, calculating, and utterly unreadable.
‘You are the most unfathomable genius I have ever seen. A child of nine, already at Soul Elder. Of course, that is the blood of the Angel Ancestor. Our direct line has never lacked brilliance. Even the weakest were born with innate full soul power of ten. But you… you were born with twenty.’
(Author Note : Soul Elder (Level 30 ), Qian Renxue’s actual level is known only to a very few people who has earned her trust)
But cultivation talent alone was not what unsettled him. No, what disturbed, and secretly thrilled him, was her mind.
‘That Order you birthed in silence… the Hermit Order.’
He narrowed his eyes, rembering the trail of whispers he had painstakingly pieced together. The strange movents of obscure soul masters, vanishing into the dark, yet resurfacing with odd influence inside the Spirit Hall itself. It had taken his own secret web of informants to connect the fragnts, and even then, what he found only frustrated him further.
‘It is… shapeless. No hierarchy, no visible chain of command, no weak point to exploit. A net without strands. If I hadn’t been ruthless in seizing the lives of certain key individuals, I would never have even confird its existence. Even now, I know nothing of its true scale.’
He paused in his steps, expression tightening.
‘Father must still be blind to this. If he knew, What would he do? Hmph. No matter. I will keep it from him, for now.’
His lips curved, but there was no warmth in the gesture.
And then, his thoughts shifted like a knife sliding across flesh, to another figure.
“I am waiting for the day Bibi Dong cos for . When her hatred boils over, when she no longer restrains herself… when she finally kills .”
There was no fear in this thought. Instead, a strange anticipation. Perhaps even… relief.
“Bibi Dong has already reached Title Douluo… level 90. The perfect storm is gathering. And now, of all tis, news arrives—Tang Hao’s hiding place exposed. The Blue Silver Emperor, Ah Yin… a hundred-thousand-year soul beast. God himself must favour Spirit Hall. How else could such perfect opportunities line themselves before ?”
His breath quickened slightly. His pupils contracted.
‘This world is filthy. Humans wallow in weakness, selfishness, decay. No one can cleanse it. Not kings, not empires, Only gods. Only a god’s will can burn away the rot. If it costs my soul, my blood, even my life, then so be it. I will do anything—anything—to see a god descend on this continent.’
And as that final conviction echoed in his heart, sothing inside him twisted.
If anyone had seen him then, the sight would have frozen their blood. The Pope’s usual serene smile was gone. Instead, his lips curled into a crooked grin, wide and unhinged. His eyes glimred not with holy light, but with the dark fire of obsession, a hunger to raze the world and rebuild it in his vision.
It was the mask of a lunatic, a zealot who would see the world burn if it ant his dream could be fulfilled.
The corridor’s shadows stretched across his face, and for a brief instant, it seed that even the divine radiance of Spirit Hall recoiled from him.
-----
( Author notes: While not ntioned in the original story, I am creating hypothetical past of Qian Xunji for his motives. I am not white washing his cris, he is very much responsible for the cri he did. )
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