Chapter 33 – The Hidden Hand
Qian Xunji had no idea how severe Bibi Dong's injuries were, nor did he dare remain alone with her in the same space. Enduring the pain coursing through his meridians, he quickly turned and headed toward the Pope's Hall.
Bibi Dong stood in silence, her cold eyes fixed on his retreating. She made no move to stop him.
For one, she wasn't certain whether Qian Xunji still had the strength to summon that mysterious Crystal Wall. And secondly, the Rakshasa God's poison she had used would feed on his soul power, evolving into Soul-Devouring Worms.
When that time came, even Qian Xunji, the mighty Pope of Spirit Hall, would be consumed from within.
Her only regret was that she couldn't personally peel the flesh from his bones and end the torment he had inflicted upon her with her own hands.
Wiping the blood from the corner of her lips, Bibi Dong steadied her breathing, then slowly made her way toward the side hall's exit.
Outside the doors, Chrysanthemum Douluo and Ghost Douluo were already waiting, their eyes filled with alert suspicion as they watched her every move.
Bibi Dong didn't even glance at them. The sunlight outside couldn't pierce the shadows shrouding her heart.
"Where are you going?" one of them asked curtly.
The two exchanged glances. As Qian Xunji's most trusted lieutenants, they had received a direct order to capture the Saintess and place her under confinement.
They had expected resistance, perhaps even a fierce battle. But to their surprise, Bibi Dong showed no signs of struggling at all.
"Ah… Saintess, please come with us," Ghost Douluo said, vanishing into the shadows to guard against any sudden outburst, while Yue Guan—Chrysanthemum Douluo—escorted Bibi Dong toward Spirit Hall's prison.
"Saintess," Yue Guan said softly as they walked, unable to contain a sigh. "If you'd just waited a bit longer, Spirit Hall would have been yours in time. Why commit such a grave act of rebellion?"
He had watched her grow up—had admired her talent, her grace, her brilliance. To see her relationship with the Pope collapse into hatred and betrayal… It pained him deeply.
But the fallen Saintess had no interest in his pity. Her silence was cold, unyielding. She merely followed him step by step toward her cage.
After sealing her soul power through special means, Yue Guan sighed again—long and weary—before locking the cell door and leaving in silence.
Bibi Dong's assassination attempt was treated as nothing more than a small, contained incident. The news was deliberately suppressed and never spread through the Spirit Hall.
Even Qian Renxue, Qian Xunji's own daughter, knew nothing of it.
The next morning, as usual, she came to visit her father. Seeing him, she couldn't help but notice that the color which had begun to return to his cheeks over the past few days had faded once more.
"Father, has your injury worsened again?" she asked with concern.
"I'm fine, Xue'er," Qian Xunji replied with forced calm. "My wounds are still healing. It's nothing serious."
"Really?"
The little angel frowned slightly, suspicion flickering in her golden eyes. But since her father seemed determined to hide the truth, she didn't press the matter.
After spending some time with him and confirming that he didn't seem to be deteriorating physically, she finally took her leave, heading back to the Douluo Hall to continue her daily training.
The moment his daughter was gone, Qian Xunji's gentle facade cracked. His expression twisted into a mask of pain and fury as he clenched his fists tight enough to draw blood.
His physical wounds were indeed healing—but ever since his soul power had returned, he had been plagued by waves of unbearable agony, as if something were tearing at the very fabric of his soul.
This had never happened before.
There could be only one explanation—the poison Bibi Dong had used.
It wasn't a simple toxin of the body… it targeted the soul itself.
Days passed. The torment only worsened, gnawing at his mind until he could no longer meditate in peace. Desperate and exhausted, Qian Xunji dragged his injured body to the underground prison.
There, separated by iron bars, master and disciple met once again.
Bibi Dong had clearly expected this visit. A faint, mocking curve tugged at her lips as she watched him approach.
In truth, she now felt no regret for her failed attempt. On the contrary—letting him live, to suffer for a while longer, seemed far more satisfying. Killing him too quickly would have been far too merciful.
"Bibi Dong," Qian Xunji said coldly, his face pale and twisted in pain. "Hand over the antidote. Do that, and I'll let the past go. You can still reclaim your position as the Saintess of Spirit Hall—second only to me."
"Antidote?" she replied with a soft, amused chuckle. "Teacher, your disciple already failed her assassination attempt and now sits here awaiting punishment. I truly don't understand what you're talking about."
She tilted her head slightly, feigning confusion, and added with a faint smirk:
"Have you been overworking yourself lately, Teacher? Perhaps your injuries reached your brain?"
Qian Xunji's fists tightened, his fury reaching its breaking point.
For the sake of one useless man—that trash—his own personally trained disciple had chosen to strike him with the cruelest blow imaginable.
With a cold snort, he turned sharply on his heel and left the prison cell, his cloak sweeping through the air.
Even now, even after everything, he still harbored a faint, pitiful hope that Bibi Dong might one day reconcile with him—for the sake of Qian Renxue, if nothing else.
He failed to realize that in Bibi Dong's heart, there was no longer room for forgiveness—only hatred.
A few days later, the pain in Qian Xunji's soul became unbearable. With no alternative, he dragged his weakened body to the Douluo Hall to seek help from Qian Daoliu.
Though there was distance between father and son, blood still bound them, and Qian Daoliu could not bring himself to stand idly by.
But no matter how deeply he probed, even his near-divine perception could not discern what was wrong with Qian Xunji.
"According to what you've described," Qian Daoliu said, frowning, "a single bowl of medicine shouldn't cause injury to your soul. And yet, the pain you describe clearly exists. What exactly happened?"
"I don't know," Qian Xunji replied through gritted teeth. "Bibi Dong refuses to say anything."
Qian Daoliu sighed heavily. "Karma… If it's only pain, then consider it a punishment you deserve. But I fear this may not end with pain alone."
Though a Rank 99 Ultimate Douluo—unmatched across the continent—Qian Daoliu still could not perceive the power of gods.
The Soul-Devouring Worms planted by the Rakshasa God were beyond his detection.
"Damn it!" Qian Xunji cursed, trembling with rage. "If this torment doesn't cease soon, I'll forget all notions of mercy. That ungrateful beast will regret ever calling me teacher!"
Unable to find relief for his pain or his pride, Qian Xunji stormed out of the hall.
As he passed through the gardens, he caught sight of Qian Renxue and Lin Beiya—his daughter smiling brightly at the young man's side.
Suppressing his turmoil, he forced a stiff nod and offered a few perfunctory words of encouragement before quickly leaving.
The little angel's cheerful expression dimmed.
She had thought her father had come to the Douluo Hall to see her—she had even stopped her training and rushed over when she heard he was there.
Beside her, Lin Beiya's gaze lingered on Qian Xunji's departing figure, unease stirring in his chest.
Something about the man's aura felt… wrong. Even with the Aries Gold Cloth enhancing his recovery, Qian Xunji's eyes carried a shadow of death.
By all rights, if Bibi Dong's assassination had failed, he shouldn't look so drained.
"Xue'er," Lin Beiya asked quietly, "why would the Pope come to the Douluo Hall in his condition? Shouldn't he be resting?"
"I don't know," Qian Renxue said, shaking her head. "But his complexion keeps getting worse. That's strange… when he first wore the Gold Cloth, his recovery was obvious."
"I see…"
Lin Beiya frowned. The more he thought about it, the less it made sense. But since he had already done all he could, there was little else he could do now.
---
As the Soul-Devouring Worms continued to grow, Qian Xunji's condition rapidly deteriorated.
The tearing agony in his soul worsened day by day.
Often, he would awaken in the dead of night, screaming, clutching his head as waves of pain wracked his entire being.
Finally, having lost all patience and reason, he stormed toward the Spirit Hall's underground prison at dawn—bringing Chrysanthemum Douluo and Ghost Douluo with him.
"Bibi Dong!" he roared, his voice hoarse with madness. "Hand over the antidote! This is your last chance! Refuse me again, and today will be your death day!"
Sitting cross-legged on the cold floor, Bibi Dong slowly opened her eyes.
The sight of her teacher—his face pale and twisted in agony—filled her with a rush of dark satisfaction.
"Teacher," she said softly, a mocking smile curving her lips, "your disciple truly doesn't know what you're talking about."
"That day, didn't I already confess my sins? I admitted my mistakes, and now I'm here, repenting quietly in prison."
Her tone dripped with venom. "Please, take care of your health, Teacher. You don't look very well these days."
Qian Xunji trembled, his fury boiling over.
"You think I can't make you talk?" he snarled. "Fine! Watch me have that useless man—your precious 'master'—cut into pieces and fed to the dogs!"
"You dare!"
At that, Bibi Dong's calm shattered. Her eyes widened in shock and fury, her composure crumbling for the first time.
The mere mention of him—that man she had once loved and lost—stabbed straight through the icy armor around her heart.
—
End of Chapter