Chrysanthemum Douluo held the small flowerpot containing the enlightenment tea tree seedling, rolling his eyes with dramatic flair.
"What do you know?"
"This is called… a sense of participation."
Ghost Douluo paused, half a skewer of grilled pork loin hanging from his mouth.
He swallowed, nodded seriously, and mumbled through full cheeks:
"Ohhh… a sense of participation…"
Not far away, Posey—who was experiencing "Spirit Hall's after-work culture" for the first time—felt her worldview collapse, rebuild itself, and collapse again.
She watched Ghost Leopard Douluo and Devil Bear Douluo wrestling over the last grilled leek skewer, veins bulging as if they were fighting for a divine artifact.
Then she looked at the woman in the center—sometimes holy and serene, sometimes wicked and flirtatious—bickering with herself over who had the right to the last grilled sausage.
Posey's mental dignity fell to the floor, rolled three times, and died without a grave.
So…
This was the daily life of Spirit Hall's upper echelon?
So simple.
So crude.
So utterly beneath her comprehension.
She subconsciously took another bite of the skewer Qian Daoliu forcibly shoved into her hand.
…Mm.
Delicious.
Blue Lightning Tyrant Dragon Sect
Inside the Sect's deliberation hall, the atmosphere was so heavy it could squeeze water from stone.
Elders sat on either side with expressions so sour they looked like they'd swallowed a thunderbolt.
At the center of the black obsidian table lay a single letter—
A messenger letter from Spirit City.
"OUTRAGEOUS! Absolutely outrageous!"
One hot-tempered Elder slammed the table so hard the teacups rattled, eyes blazing with fury.
"Blatantly accusing us of assassinating the Supreme Pontiff?! Does Spirit Hall think we're idiots?!"
"With that useless Yu Xiaogang—cough—with his level 29 trash spirit power, forget assassinating Bibi Dong, he couldn't even assassinate the Palace's doorman!"
Another Elder slammed his palm down, beard trembling.
"This isn't questioning guilt—this is straight-up robbery! Extortion! Blackmail!"
"'Make appropriate compensation'? WHAT compensation? What, is Spirit Hall's face cast from dragon hide—how can it be this thick?!"
"They're obviously looking for an excuse to pick a fight!"
"Hmph! If it's war, then it's war! The Blue Lightning Tyrant Dragon Sect has never feared anyone!"
The hall erupted into a thunderstorm of shouting.
Some cursed Spirit Hall for shamelessness.
Some demanded an alliance with the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile School and Heaven Dou Empire.
Some wanted to sue Spirit Hall for emotional damages.
No one cared about Yu Xiaogang.
They were mad at the insult.
It wasn't that Spirit Hall insulted Yu Xiaogang.
It was that Spirit Hall insulted their intelligence.
Just as the noise reached its peak—
A deep, steady voice cut through everything.
"Enough."
The sound wasn't loud.
But every Elder fell silent instantly.
All eyes turned toward the main seat.
There sat a burly middle-aged man, features carved like stone, aura like a coiled thunder dragon.
The current Sect Master of the Blue Lightning Tyrant Dragon Sect.
Level 95 Attack-type Titled Douluo—
Yu Yuanzhen.
He didn't need to speak to command authority; his mere presence suppressed the room.
Yu Yuanzhen's calm gaze swept across the Elders.
One by one, their anger evaporated into cold sweat.
Only after everyone quieted did he lower his gaze to the letter.
He tapped it lightly.
"Spirit Hall…"
A thin, mocking smile tugged at his lips.
"They just want to save face."
The Elders froze.
"Sect Master… you mean—?"
Yu Yuanzhen leisurely lifted his teacup, blew on it, and took a slow sip.
Then he spoke lightly:
"Issue the order. Pretend we never received this letter."
Silence.
"What?!"
"Sect Master, this—this is impossible!"
"If we ignore it, Spirit Hall will think we're guilty! Weak! Then—"
Before the Elder could finish, Yu Yuanzhen cast him a single glance.
Like a thunderbolt.
Words died in his throat.
He sat down instantly, wiping cold sweat from his forehead.
Yu Yuanzhen leaned back casually.
"Do you really think Bibi Dong dares lay a finger on Yu Xiaogang?"
His tone was calm, confident, even amused.
In his view, this wasn't a political maneuver.
It wasn't a prelude to war.
It was—
A woman throwing a tantrum.
Who was Bibi Dong?
A woman who had once nearly betrayed the entire Spirit Hall for Yu Xiaogang.
Even if she was now Supreme Pontiff.
Even if she hated Yu Xiaogang for being useless, disappointing, spineless.
Even then—
That emotion etched into bone? It didn't disappear.
Yu Yuanzhen scoffed inwardly.
This wasn't a punishment.
This was Bibi Dong trying to regain dignity after being embarrassed.
Publicly bringing up the issue?
All for face.
Once she vented enough, things would naturally die down.
Yu Xiaogang might get beaten.
Locked up.
Humiliated.
But killed?
Bibi Dong didn't have that kind of guts.
Besides—
Yu Yuanzhen's expression darkened—
That disappointing son of his had already been dumped once.
To crawl back on his knees to that woman was embarrassing enough.
Looking at Yu Yuanzhen's composed expression, radiating confidence like a man who had seen through the universe itself, the Elders could only swallow their doubts.
The Sect Master had always been accurate.
"You may all leave," Yu Yuanzhen said lazily.
"Yes, Sect Master."
The Elders bowed deeply and exited.
Soon, the hall was empty.
Yu Yuanzhen picked up the letter, flicked his fingers lightly.
The paper instantly turned to ash.
He looked toward the distant horizon, gaze cold and proud, as if seeing directly into Spirit City.
"Bibi Dong, oh Bibi Dong…"
"The so-called iron-blooded Supreme Pontiff is, in the end, just an emotional woman."