At dusk, Spirit City was covered with a thin layer of gold leaf.
The Angel God Statue cast a long, narrow shadow in the setting sun, stretching across the city's central axis.
Like a giant sundial indicator, it silently marks a countdown.
Chen Jieqi stood by the window, watching the shadow climb inch by inch over the distant rooftops.
The door was tightly shut behind me, cutting off the intermittent laughter and chatter of my teammates downstairs.
The healing-type Soul Master has already arrived and announced that everyone will be fully recovered after another treatment tomorrow.
But he didn't join; he was thinking about something else.
He wasn't thinking about how to win; he was thinking about what would happen after he won.
The thing inside Tang San's body, the thing he had forced out piece by piece with his sword, finally "raised its head" this afternoon.
That nod wasn't a declaration of war; it was a sign.
But Chen Jieqi knew better than anyone that the mark wasn't aimed at him.
It's aimed at "light".
"You're thinking about that rabbit."
Suddenly, Sheng Hui's voice rang out from within the Soul Ring.
Chen Jieqi did not deny it.
"If he fully awakens the Asura, Xiao Wu will be a ready-made sacrifice. Hundred-Thousand-Year Soul Beast is exactly what he lacks most."
"You know this isn't a guess," Sheng Hui said.
"But this isn't the original script."
Chen Jieqi turned around, walked to the table, and wrote a few words on a piece of paper.
First, on the left: Tang San.
Then on the right: a variable that is rapidly spiraling out of control.
Another line: Xiao Wu, the only brake that was still in time to be applied.
He stared at the line of text, and lightly touched it with the tip of his pen.
"I'm protecting her, but not for her sake."
He looked up and gazed out the window toward the Shrek rest area, where the lights were sparse, like a few embers about to go out.
"If Xiao Wu dies now, or sacrifices herself later, ' Tang San ' will be gone forever."
He'll become a pure, hammer-wielding ' Asura,' which will be a hundred times more troublesome than it is now."
Sheng Hui remained silent for a moment.
"So what you need to do is not protect her, but make her realize that she cannot be exposed."
"Yes." Chen Jieqi stood up.
"Moreover, if she herself is delusional and thinks that a sacrifice can bring him to his senses, that would be the worst outcome."
He needs to talk to those fearful eyes.
As a fellow traveler also gazing into the abyss.
Tell her: Don't be foolish. If you die, he will truly lose.
Outside the window, the shadow of the Angel God Statue had been completely swallowed by the night.
The light in the window of the Shrek rest area in the distance was already off.
But he knew that behind that window, two pairs of eyes were open.
A pair of eyes were surveying him; that was Tang San.
The other pair of eyes, too afraid to close, belonged to Xiao Wu.
As long as she is still afraid, as long as she doesn't want to die, there is still room for discussion.
Shrek's lounge was much quieter than the Huangdou area.
It wasn't that no one was speaking, but rather that everyone unconsciously lowered their voices when they did.
It was as if something in this room made them subconsciously suppress their desire to celebrate.
Xiao Wu sat in the corner, her gaze never leaving Tang San's back.
He sat cross-legged by the window, eyes closed in meditation, his back to everyone.
She had seen that position a thousand times, and each time it gave her a sense of security.
But this time, it's different.
The scene in the audience was like a residual image branded on my retina: Bibi Dong sat on her throne, her deep purple eyes sweeping across the entire venue.
At that moment, the instincts of the Hundred-Thousand-Year Soul Beast within Xiao Wu suddenly awakened.
It's her, it's definitely her.
She would never mistake that scent.
More than ten years ago, on that blood-soaked night in the Star Dou Great Forest, when my mother collapsed, the air was filled with this very scent.
Cold, deep purple, with an aura of majesty that crushes and devours all life.
Then, her instincts caught the second one.
From Tang San.
It's very light.
It was so subtle that she wouldn't have noticed it at all if she hadn't deliberately pushed her senses to the limit to confirm Bibi Dong.
Deep inside him, something was breathing quietly.
The texture of that thing was different from, yet similar to, the aura emanating from Bibi Dong.
It's like the same ink spreading on different papers.
Xiao Wu's fingertips dug into her palm.
"Brother," she said, her voice much calmer than expected.
Tang San opened his eyes, without turning around. "Hmm?"
"Are you feeling unwell anywhere today?"
He seemed to be thinking, then said, "No."
"Oh."
Xiao Wu lowered her head, her usually perked-up ears drooping.
She didn't ask any more questions.
But that night, her gaze never left his retreating figure.
As night fell completely, Qian Renxue stood on the terrace of the side hall.
The lights of Spirit City spread out beneath my feet, with the direction of the Pope's Palace shining especially brightly, like a lighthouse that refuses to sleep.
The scene from earlier that day kept replaying in my mind.
Chen Jieqi stood in the center of the Holy Light Domain, his white hair moving without wind, and the mark between his eyebrows resembled a miniature sun.
And the Angel Soul Power within her body trembled for a moment.
It's like it's "identifying" something.
"Light from outside."
She repeated those four words in a low voice.
After standing there for a while, Qian Renxue shook her head. Originally, she planned to take him to see his grandfather after everything had settled down.
It seems this plan needs to be changed; let's do it tomorrow.
The lights in the Pope's Palace were still on when I turned to leave the terrace.
At the same time, in the deepest quiet room of the Pope's Palace.
Bibi Dong used to love light, and she herself was radiant.
But now things have changed. Her hatred for "light" has turned into disgust, mixed with disdain.
She sat at the head of the long table, with two reports in front of her.
The document on the left contains detailed information on the Soul Power and combat habits of each member of the Imperial Fighting Team.
Chrysanthemum Douluo stood at the door awaiting instructions, cold sweat trickling down his spine and into his collar.
"Your Majesty, should we... address the captain of the Huangdou team?"
"Need not."
Bibi Dong interrupted him.
"Nana and the others lost because they weren't strong enough. There's no such thing as 'accident' in the world of Soul Master."
Her gaze fell on the young face on the report to her left.
A platinum-gold mark, a holy light.
That purity caused a dull ache in some corner of her body.
But she built a wall over that pain.
At the same time, one has to admire that girl's judgment, regardless of anything else, is as accurate as ever.
But this time, was it really her choice?
She suddenly remembered Yu Xiaogang.
If he were still here back then...
The thought had barely formed in her mind before she extinguished it.
A sharp pain shot through my fingertips; before I knew it, my nails had dug deep into my palm.
She released her grip and expressionlessly smoothed out the wrinkles on the Pope robe sleeves.
"Send someone to see Shrek tomorrow."
In the name of the Spirit Hall, tell Tang San that the Pope wants to see him.
Chrysanthemum Douluo was taken aback. "On what reason?"
Bibi Dong raised her eyes, her gaze having returned to its previous calm.
"He is the son of Clear Sky Douluo. The Spirit Hall has an obligation to 'care' for every outstanding Soul Master on the continent."
The corners of her mouth curved into an almost imperceptible smile.
He will come.
Tang San was not asleep at this moment.
He sat cross-legged on the bed, his seven orifices closed, his consciousness sinking into the deepest part of his body.
There, crimson mist was slowly swirling.
The holy light of day disturbed it, causing it to open one eye from its slumber.
No, it's not the eye.
It was just a thought.
A thought that didn't belong to him, like a rusty nail, was driven deep into his consciousness.
"That light... is really irritating."
He suddenly opened his eyes.
Moonlight streamed in through the window and fell on his outstretched palm.
There were no marks on my palm, but the stinging pain from my palm was as clear as if I had been bitten.
He looked down at the hand, his eyes calm, without fear or resistance.
"You felt it too?"
He spoke to his palm.
No one answered. But he knew it had heard him.
Xiao Wu, in the next room, caught those intermittent whispers that Tang San himself was unaware of.
She didn't cry, nor did she disturb them.
She remembered the night her mother collapsed, the air filled with the same "scarlet smell".
"It's not him," she said silently to herself. "That's not him."
But even she herself couldn't fully believe that statement.
It's late at night.
The Angel God Statue above Spirit City stood with its eyes lowered, its face blurred in the mercury-like moonlight.
It overlooks the scattered lights, overlooks the purple eyes that sit quietly deep within the Pope's Palace.
Looking down at the darkness silently writhing in the palm of the boy, looking down at the unquenchable light between the brows of another boy.
All was equally silent, all was equally still.
Only the night wind tirelessly travels through, sweeping past every tightly closed window.
It knew that dawn would break in a few hours.
The match hasn't started yet.
However, in some games, the first move has already been made outside the chessboard.