His Holiness the Pope's "Miracle Nikki" Moment

The heavy carved wooden door boomed shut behind her.

Deep within the Pope's imperial bedchamber, the air wasn't filled with the expected肅殺 (sù shā -肅殺 and oppression) she had imagined. Instead, it carried a scent of... expensive incense.

Zhu Zhuqing stood in the center of the hall, instinctively shielding her chest with her hands, her body tense.

She had expected her special training to involve being attacked by ten ten thousand year soul beasts, or being thrown into a death zone where only killing could ensure survival. After all, her adoptive mother's teaching style was known for its "if it doesn't kill you, train you to death" approach.

"Take off your clothes."

Bibi Dong's voice came from behind layers of gauze curtains, lazy and unquestionable.

Zhu Zhuqing's pupils constricted.

Was this really going to be strike resistance training? Or some kind of medicinal bath tempering that required her to be naked?

She bit her lower lip, her fingers trembling as she unfastened her leather clothes. To become stronger, to keep up with that person, this bit of shame was nothing.

A jade hand lifted the gauze curtain.

When Zhu Zhuqing saw the scene before her, she froze in place, her unfastening hand awkwardly suspended in mid-air.

This was no torture chamber.

This was clearly the ultimate dream of every woman on the continent—a super walk-in closet large enough to fit half of the Star Luo Imperial Palace.

Hundreds of crystal display cabinets lined the walls, the warm soul guide light shining on the iridescent fabrics, refracting into dazzling halos.

To the left was the elegant high-fashion palace dress section, to the right was the playful short skirt section, and in the middle were even a few pieces with very little fabric, but inlaid with diamonds... peculiar garments.

"What are you standing around for?"

Bibi Dong held a measuring tape in her hand, her eyes as fervent as a mad scientist about to dissect a rare soul beast.

She circled Zhu Zhuqing twice, making clicking sounds.

"Nine years old... this development speed is simply unreasonable."

The measuring tape in Bibi Dong's hand coiled around Zhu Zhuqing's waist like a snake, then slid upwards.

"Bust increased by three inches? All the previous molds have to be thrown out!"

Bibi Dong frowned, as if encountering an academic problem, "The waist-to-hip ratio is too exaggerated. Ready-made clothes on the market won't show off the effect, they'll look bulky."

Zhu Zhuqing's face was flushed red, her hands tightly covering her chest, her voice as thin as a thread: "Adop... adoptive mother, aren't we supposed to be special training?"

"This is special training!"

Bibi Dong straightened up, and the scepter in her hand had, at some point, been replaced by a thick fashion magazine (Martial Soul Hall Internal Special Edition).

She had a serious expression, as if discussing the Martial Soul Core Competitiveness.

"As the face of the Martial Soul Hall, the Holy Son's future... cough, partner, your aesthetic must be on point! Wearing those ugly clothes all day, there's no sense of beauty at all!"

"But... those clothes are convenient for fighting..." Zhu Zhuqing weakly retorted.

"Shut up."

Bibi Dong waved her hand grandly, exuding an aura of dominance, "True powerhouses can crush the skull of a Titled Douluo even while wearing High Heels! Come here, try this one first!"

For the next hour.

Zhu Zhuqing experienced torment more terrifying than hellish training.

She was like an emotionless dress-up doll.

"This pink Puffy Skirt won't do, it's too sweet, it covers up your cool and aloof aura, making you look like a naive airhead."

"This red one? Also won't do, it's too gaudy, you're a cat, not a vixen."

"This one..."

Bibi Dong held a Lace See-through Outfit with very little fabric and held it up against Zhu Zhuqing.

Zhu Zhuqing was so scared she retreated three steps, her back hitting the wall, shaking her head desperately, "This is absolutely not okay! I'd rather die than wear it!"

Bibi Dong sighed regretfully and casually tossed aside the outfit that could make a Titled Douluo bleed from the nose.

"You clueless little girl, this is called 'Pure Desire', understand?"

She walked to the deepest part of the wardrobe.

There was a separate Crystal Display Cabinet, inside which floated a moon-white long dress.

No complicated lace, no exaggerated skirt.

The entire dress was woven from ten-thousand-year Ice Silkworm Silk blended with Brocade, flowing with water-like textures under the light.

Simple, yet luxurious to the bone.

"Go, put it on." Bibi Dong's eyes were as gentle as if she were looking at her first love, "I designed this when I was young, unfortunately... at that time, I wasn't worthy of this purity."

Outside the Papal Palace.

On the steps.

Qian Mo had a Blue Silver Grass in his mouth, idly counting the ants on the ground.

"One, two, three..."

Beside them.

"Screech--screech--"

A tooth-grinding friction sound echoed rhythmically.

Qian Renxue sat cross-legged on the ground, holding an extremely high-grade whetstone, madly sharpening her Angel Holy Sword.

Golden sparks flew.

Her exquisite face was etched with "I'm very annoyed, don't mess with me."

"Sister." Qian Mo spat out a Blue Silver Grass. "That's a divine artifact. If you keep sharpening it, it'll become a needle for embroidery."

"What do you know."

Qian Renxue didn't look up, her eyes filled with murderous intent. "That woman took your wife... took your little follower in there for so long. She definitely has ill intentions! What if she makes her wear some indecent clothes and seduce you?"

"Screech!"

She fiercely ground the sword's edge. "If she dares to let you see anything you shouldn't, I'll tear down this damned palace!"

Qian Mo's mouth twitched.

Sister, you're not worried about me, you're being territorial, aren't you?

And... indecent?

Certain indescribable scenes involuntarily surfaced in Qian Mo's mind, and his Adam's apple subconsciously bobbed.

If that's the case... tearing down the palace can be done a little later.

Just then.

The heavy palace doors rumbled with a muffled sound and slowly slid open to both sides.

A clear, cold fragrance, mixed with the unique scent of high-grade fabric, wafted out through the gap.

"Mo'er."

Bibi Dong's voice carried a hint of teasing and a hint of pride. "Come in, and accept your 'gift'."

Qian Mo stood up and brushed the dust off his pants.

Qian Renxue leaped up with a "whoosh," Angel Holy Sword held horizontally in front of her, looking as if she were facing a formidable enemy.

Both of them looked towards the entrance simultaneously.