When dawn fully bathed the courtyard, Dai Chengfeng reined in his aura.
A night of insight and experimentation had brought him to an unprecedented peak.
Though his soul power was depleted from two Ring Detonations, the essence of the rings now fused within him had tempered his foundation like refined steel.
He'd sacrificed quantity—but his quality had leapt forward.
He changed into clean black training attire and adjusted his appearance before the courtyard's water basin, checking his reflection.
The youth in the mirror had star-bright eyes and a faint smile—but behind that smile lay a secret only he knew.
The secret of Ring Detonation.
For now, he wouldn't tell anyone—not even Bibi Dong.
Not out of distrust, but because it raised too many questions.
How could he, without guidance, grasp the Hao Tian Sect's forbidden secret technique?
Too much of his truth remained unspoken.
"Some secrets must stay mine alone," Dai Chengfeng murmured, stepping out the door.
The air in the Supreme Pontiff's Palace was crisp at dawn. Night dew still glistened on the bluestone path.
Temple Knights on patrol bowed as he passed. Dai Chengfeng nodded politely, striding straight toward the palace's inner sanctum.
He knew Bibi Dong's routine—after handling urgent morning affairs, she'd retreat for solitude, usually in the small hall beside her chambers.
She disliked disturbances then—but Dai Chengfeng was the exception.
Passing through layered corridors, he reached the secluded courtyard at the palace's heart.
Two red-robed archbishops stood guard. One bowed slightly. "Master Dai, Her Holiness has instructed you may enter directly."
Dai Chengfeng's heart stirred—Bibi Dong was waiting.
He pushed open the heavy oak door.
Inside, the courtyard defied the palace's usual solemnity—more private residence than papal domain.
A pebble path wound through manicured gardens. Late-blooming cherry blossoms shed pink-white petals in the morning breeze.
At its heart stood an elegant white pavilion.
Dai Chengfeng walked to the door and knocked lightly.
"Enter." Bibi Dong's voice floated out—calm, tinged with languor.
He stepped inside.
The room carried her signature lavender-and-sandalwood incense—but today, a hint of post-bath freshness lingered.
Dai Chengfeng's breath caught.
Bibi Dong stood by the window, back turned, wrapped in a loose violet silk robe. Her damp purple hair cascaded over her shoulders—clearly fresh from bathing.
Morning light haloed her silhouette, the thin fabric revealing glimpses of her perfect curves.
Hearing his steps, she turned slowly.
Post-bath, her usual authority softened into lazy grace.
Her bare face glowed with faint pink; her eyes were gentler than usual.
She smiled faintly. "Earlier than I expected."
Dai Chengfeng composed himself, approaching. "There's something I wanted to share with you first."
"Oh?"
Bibi Dong glided to a small round table, seating herself with elegance.
As Dai Chengfeng suspected, a bottle of opened red wine sat there. Two crystal glasses shimmered amber in the dawn light.
"About yesterday's victory?"
Dai Chengfeng sat opposite her, warmth blooming in his chest at the sight.
Bibi Dong rarely drank at dawn—this wine was for him, a celebration.
"Yes… and no."
He accepted the glass she offered, swirling the liquid gently. "Defeating Tang San fulfilled your expectations—that's worth celebrating. But more importantly…"
He paused, choosing words carefully. "More importantly, that battle clarified many things for me."
Bibi Dong sipped her wine, eyes probing. "Such as?"
"The essence of power."
Dai Chengfeng spoke slowly—half-truth, half-lie. He was pondering power, but the mechanics of Ring Detonation, not what she assumed.
"How to maximize every drop of soul power's potential…"
Bibi Dong listened quietly, her violet eyes reflecting his earnest face.
After a long moment, she sighed softly. "You always think of such strange things, Dai Chengfeng."
She rose, stepping behind him, hands resting lightly on his shoulders.
He felt her fingertips' warmth, smelled her post-bath fragrance.
"You know," her voice brushed his ear, soft as wind, "Yu Xiaogang's theories once convinced me utterly."
"The 'soul ring age determines a soul master's ceiling'—I believed it was irrefutable… until you appeared."
Her fingers pressed slightly. "You broke that chain—absorbing over the limit soul rings again and again."
She returned to her seat, raising her glass. "To yesterday's victory."
Their glasses clinked—a clear, delicate sound.
The wine unfolded on his tongue—fruity depth, subtle tannins.
Dai Chengfeng set down his glass. "What do you think Yu Xiaogang made of yesterday's battle?"
Bibi Dong's eyes chilled for an instant—then softened. "He'll be shocked. Confused. He'll try explaining it with his theories."
"But he can't. Your very existence negates his doctrine."
Her tone held faint mockery, yet Dai Chengfeng heard deeper currents—lingering obsession, disappointment in one once trusted, perhaps a hidden ache.
"And are you satisfied?"
Dai Chengfeng held her gaze. "Seeing his theories shattered? His disciple crushed by me?"
Bibi Dong fell silent.
Birdsong drifted through the window—bright, clear.
Sunlight shifted, catching her damp hair, making it gleam.
"Satisfied."
Her voice was soft but firm. "But what satisfies me more is that you didn't stop at victory."
She raised her glass again, saying nothing—just watching him.
Dai Chengfeng lifted his in return. They drank in comfortable silence, understanding flowing wordlessly between them.
After three rounds, warmth flushed Dai Chengfeng's cheeks.
He set down his glass, stood, and walked to her side.
"What is it?"
Bibi Dong looked up, morning light dancing in her violet eyes.
Dai Chengfeng didn't answer. Instead, he gently pulled her into his arms.
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