Gold Crocodile Douluo's furious question echoed through the Hall of Worship—
—but Bibi Dong didn't even spare him a glance.
Her crimson eyes—deep, oppressive, as if containing a mountain of corpses—swept calmly across her six subordinates.
Their auras had completely transformed.
But inside her mind?
A storm had already erupted.
On her way here, her mental force had blanketed the entire Hall of Worship.
And she had seen everything.
She saw Yue Guan's spirit power—vast, domineering, steady—no weaker than a true level-96 Super Douluo.
A realm he should have needed decades to reach.
She saw Ghost Douluo's perfect, demonic visage, and the deathly silence of the robe he wore—an eerie abyss that devoured light itself.
And most unbelievable of all—
Six auras combined had actually forced Gold Crocodile Douluo back.
Forced. Him. Back.
The man who stood just one step away from level 99.
In that instant…
The "betrayal" she had prepared to purge quietly extinguished.
This was not betrayal.
This was evolution.
An evolution she could neither predict nor control.
And its source…
The existence they reverently addressed as "Senior."
A mere restaurant owner?
Lin Feng.
Bibi Dong's lips curled—cold, sharp, yet tinged with a hunger that was almost feral.
The hunger of a conqueror glimpsing an unexplored world.
An existence capable of reshaping the destiny of Titled Douluo in a single day—
Such power belonged in her hands.
And only in her hands.
At last, she raised her eyelids, her gaze landing on Gold Crocodile Douluo.
Her voice was ice.
"Noisy."
Before the word even faded—
A purple-black divine thought pierced directly into Gold Crocodile Douluo's mind like the spear of the Rakshasa God.
Bibi Dong's spirit power erupted.
"—!!"
Gold Crocodile Douluo felt his soul quiver.
His Golden Crocodile Spirit let out a pained roar, blood surging violently.
He staggered back several more steps.
And Bibi Dong?
She dusted her fingers as if brushing away an insect.
Then she turned back to the six transformed Douluo—
a strange, knowing smile flickering on her lips.
"Very good."
Her voice was calm, yet contained undeniable dominance.
"I have been in seclusion for a month."
"You six have given me… quite an unexpected surprise."
She didn't ask for explanations.
She didn't ask what happened.
She simply turned.
"Follow me."
"Yes, Your Holiness!"
Chrysanthemum Douluo and the others' hearts tightened instantly; their response was sharp, unanimous.
They rose without hesitation.
As he turned to leave, Yue Guan paused.
He looked back.
Pity.
Fanaticism.
Enlightenment.
These complex emotions swirled in his gaze as he regarded the stunned Elders of the Hall of Worship.
His tone carried no respect for this sacred place.
Only the gentle pity of a believer toward the ignorant.
"Fellow Elders."
"A miracle has descended upon Spirit City."
He smiled.
Warm, fanatical, terrifying.
"I advise you… do not miss the only chance in your life to touch 'God,' simply because of your own insignificance."
When he finished speaking, he no longer lingered.
Together with Ghost Douluo and the others, he transformed into streaks of light, following Bibi Dong's solitary figure deep into the Hall of Worship.
Dead Silence
The Elders of the Hall of Worship stood frozen, their worldviews collapsing, their souls trembling.
Demon Subduing Douluo's mind replayed Yue Guan's final words like a divine judgment:
"Do not miss the only chance in this life to touch 'God.'"
God…
His voice trembled.
"So… he wasn't lying…
Feng Ran Pavilion…"
Titled Douluo undergoing complete transformations in just two days?
Unless the intervention of a god…
What other explanation could there be?
His shock twisted into a blazing, uncontrollable greed.
A hunger that swallowed reason whole.
"A miracle…"
"That shop…"
"I—I want to go too!!!"
He became a streak of light, rushing out of the hall like a madman.
"Seventh Elder!"
Gold Crocodile Douluo instinctively reached out—
—but his hand stopped mid-air.
Because—
A sigh.
A sigh ancient as time itself echoed through the hall.
Light, soft…
Yet its weight crushed every aura present into stillness.
"Second Worship Elder."
The voice carried boundless age and unquestionable authority.
"Let him go."
Gold Crocodile Douluo trembled violently.
He slowly withdrew his hand, turning to bow respectfully toward the deepest shadows of the Hall.
"But… Big Brother…"
There was only one person in Spirit Hall whom Gold Crocodile addressed this way.
The High Priest.
Qian Daoliu.
A living legend.
But before he could continue—
"That is not all."
The ancient voice echoed again, colder than the abyss.
"You will go as well."
"Take half of the Hall of Worship's forces."
"Go. See for yourself."
"What exactly is hidden in that place."
Emotionless.
Absolutely emotionless.
Qian Daoliu's life belonged to the Angel God.
His faith was absolute.
But now—
Under the radiance of the Angel God's domain,
something dared to shake the faith of his followers.
A blasphemer.
A defiler.
A false god inspiring madness in Spirit Hall's Titled Douluo.
This was no longer a threat.
It was sacrilege.
In the deepest darkness, two golden eyes slowly opened.
Cold.
Silent.
Utterly merciless.
"Investigate thoroughly."
"And anything unclean… that dares usurp the name of God—"
"Must be purified."
Supreme Pontiff Palace
Bibi Dong sat atop the throne of absolute power.
Below her stood the six familiar figures—
yet they no longer felt familiar at all.
Gone were the terror, reverence, and obedience etched into their bones.
What she saw now in their eyes—
Fanaticism.
Pity.
And an unsettling hint of superiority.
As if they were no longer Spirit Hall's Titled Douluo…
But six apostles of a higher-dimensional truth,
gazing down at her—
the "mortal" who had not yet witnessed the divine.
The pressure in the hall plummeted.
"Very good."
Her voice was terrifyingly calm,
yet the temperature dropped several degrees instantly.
"I want an explanation."
"An explanation for why you dared invade the Hall of Worship—"
"And force Gold Crocodile Douluo back."
Purple-black Rakshasa force surged from her, turning into visible ripples that hammered down on the six, cracking the ornate floor tiles beneath them.
But the six?
They merely trembled—
—and endured it.
The six exchanged glances.
No fear.
Only a solemn, unified understanding.
Finally, all eyes turned to Ghost Douluo.
The most "devout" among them.
The one who understood the Senior most deeply.
He stepped forward.
He raised his head.
His face calm, pious, almost compassionate.
"Your Holiness."
His voice had shed all former gloom—
becoming solemn, sacred, purified.
"As for your question… we cannot explain it."
"Not because we refuse to."
"But because the might of God cannot be described by words—
nor can it be comprehended by mortals."
He bowed slightly.
Respectful.
But that respect was not directed at her.
"If Your Holiness wishes to know the truth…"
"You must witness it yourself."
_____________________
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