Pope's Palace, only one candle remained lit.
Bibi Dong sat alone on the throne, the Rakshasa Divine Power flickering around her.
The palace doors were tightly shut, the windows were blocked, and the only sound in the vast hall was her breathing.
She leaned back in her chair, eyes closed, fingertips resting on the armrests, revealing her turbulent emotions.
She remembered what Xiao Wu had said, "You never hate others, you hate yourself."
She scoffed.
The sound circled in the empty hall, then was swallowed by the darkness, leaving no echo.
She opened her eyes and looked at her hands, hands that had killed many people, and also those who shouldn't have been killed.
She gripped it tightly, then released it, and stared at it for a long while.
Then she closed her eyes again, and the images in her memory played like a movie.
On the night the village was massacred by the Evil Soul Master, she hid under the corpses of her loved ones, covered in blood, too afraid to make a sound.
Qian Xunji pulled her out of the ruins.
He took off his white robe and wrapped it around her frozen body, then offered her half a piece of warm jade engraved with an angel pattern, saying:
"Don't be afraid, child. The Spirit Hall will protect you."
Clutching the warm jade that still carried his body heat, she believed him.
She thought it was a ray of salvation shining into the ruins.
At that time, she had no idea that the man in white robes would later push her into the abyss.
The image shattered.
The candlelight in the Pope's Palace flickered, and ashes fell from the wick.
Bibi Dong opened her eyes, then closed them again.
Sunlight dappled the ground beneath the wisteria trellis.
The girl sat on a stone bench, holding a book on Martial Soul Theory in her hands, and heard footsteps beside her.
She looked up and saw a boy in blue standing at the edge of the flower stand, holding a blade of grass in his hand. He looked lost, or perhaps he had come specifically to find her.
"Are you new here?"
"Um, my name is Yu Xiaogang."
He squatted under the flower trellis, using a twig to draw a diagram of Martial Soul Evolution on the ground, his eyes shining like they were filled with stars.
She squatted beside him for an entire afternoon, pointing out three theoretical flaws. When he looked up at her, his eyes were filled with both surprise and delight.
She remembered that his voice wasn't loud, it was a little hoarse, like his throat hadn't fully developed.
She remembers smiling and saying, "I know."
This was the only period in her life that had nothing to do with the Spirit Hall or power; it was a time that belonged only to her.
The image shattered again.
This time it's Qian Xunji's secret room.
Holy light seeped in through the crack in the door, a warm yellow hue that shone on her face, but she couldn't feel its warmth.
Her hands were locked, her Soul Power was sealed, and her body was like an empty shell. She heard herself shout something, but it was as if she hadn't shouted anything at all.
Qian Xunji's face was condescending, his white robe stained with dust. He spoke, his voice seeming to come from a great distance:
"You are the one I brought back, your life is mine, and you belong to me."
She wanted to argue, but she didn't have the strength.
The warm jade she had clutched in her bosom for over a decade slipped from her palm, fell onto the cold stone floor, and shattered in two.
The Rakshasa Divine Sense first found her in that secret room.
A voice came from the darkness, low and seemingly seeping from the earth. "You are in pain."
She did not answer.
I can give you strength.
She closed her heart, but the cracks were already there.
The image shattered.
Bibi Dong's fingertips tightened suddenly, digging into the armrest.
She opened her eyes, her breathing heavy. The Rakshasa Divine Power surged within her, like a snake awakened from its slumber, coiling around her heart and tightening its grip.
She pressed her hand to her chest, trying to suppress the restlessness, but she couldn't. It roamed through her veins, Rooting in her bones, and seeped into every breath she took.
The way she held it down was by standing up, taking a few steps, and walking to the window.
Night fell outside the window, and the lights of Spirit City spread out beneath my feet, dense and numerous.
She pushed open the window, and the night wind rushed in, making the candlelight flicker and casting a long shadow of her.
She stood there, gazing into the distance, where there was nothing but darkness and the occasional glimmer of starlight.
She thought of the Slaughter City.
Blood, screams, the dull thud of a blade piercing flesh.
She stood there, clutching the Spirit Hall's standard longsword, covered in blood, amidst a pile of corpses.
The Rakshasa Divine Sense whispered in her ear, "Well done, but not enough."
She turned around numbly and walked towards the next venue.
By then, she no longer felt pain. She didn't know when it started, but she stopped dreaming, stopped crying, and stopped being afraid.
She locked " Bibi Dong " away in a corner, turning herself into a knife, a knife without emotion, only a blade.
The Rakshasa Divine Sense laughed in her heart, its sound like a snake's tongue licking bones:
"Yes, that's it. Cast aside all weakness, and you will never get hurt again."
She thought this would protect her, but she didn't know that the knife was in someone else's hands.
The image shattered.
A cool night breeze swept into her collar, and she realized with a start that she had been standing by the window for quite some time.
She remembered the day of her coronation.
Angel Holy Light bathed the Pope's Palace. She stood at the highest point, wearing a heavy crown. Below her were the bowing Titled Douluo, and the thunderous roar of " Her His Holiness the Pope."
She heard a voice from the depths of her heart whisper, "It's almost here. Just one more step and you'll be completely mine."
At that time, she stood at the pinnacle of power, but felt no joy whatsoever.
There was only emptiness. A vast, bottomless void.
She thought that becoming stronger would end her emptiness, but the stronger she became, the emptier she felt.
She thought killing all her enemies would fill the void, but even after killing all her enemies, the emptiness remained.
She thought becoming a god would bring her liberation, but a sudden realization made her understand herself. "After becoming a god, you will no longer be yourself."
She reached out and pressed her hand against the window frame.
My knuckles are white, and the veins are slightly bulging. The night wind passes through my fingers, as cold as a knife's edge.
" Rakshasa God..." Her voice was very soft, as if she were asking herself, "Are you helping me or destroying me?"
No one answered.
The night wind outside the window swept through the streets and alleys, extinguishing a few lights. She stood by the window, motionless for a very long time.
The morning light seeped in from the horizon, half falling on her face with a warm, pale gold glow, while the other half remained in shadow, shrouded in a cold, dark purple hue.
She is half Pope and half Rakshasa; half in the light and half in hell.
When the sunlight streamed into the Pope's Palace the next day, Bibi Dong had already washed and dressed, and was sitting on the throne, her face showing no trace of the previous night.
A maid brought over tea, which she took and sipped.
Chrysanthemum Douluo walked in from outside the hall and bowed.
"Your Majesty, everything is normal at the Tranquil Mind Hall. The Soft Bone Rabbit is quiet and hasn't made any unusual movements."
Bibi Dong put down her teacup, her fingertips lingering on the rim for a moment.
"Give her whatever she asks for, as long as it doesn't violate the ban."
Chrysanthemum Douluo was taken aback. "Your Majesty?"
I said, "Give her whatever she wants."
Chrysanthemum Douluo dared not ask any more questions and bowed as he withdrew.
Spirit City, Tang San stood deep in the dense forest, the dark red divine light around him having mostly subsided.
He gazed in the direction of Spirit City, the pink hair tie on his wrist resting quietly against him.
He sensed that her breathing was still steady. He tightened the hair tie in his hand, then turned and walked into the depths of the forest.
In Ashen Territory, Chen Jieqi walked out of the chapel, stood on the altar, and looked westward.
Sunlight fell on the mark between his brows, its platinum-gold light shimmering slightly.
He sensed something had changed; not that he perceived anything, but that the direction had changed.
He didn't delve into it, but merely glanced in the direction of Spirit City before turning his gaze away and stepping down from the altar.
Beneath the window of the Tranquil Mind Hall, Xiao Wu gently tapped the wooden windowsill with her fingertips.
She sensed that the dark, Rakshasa energy that had been churning all night in the direction of the Pope's Palace was gradually sinking, like the receding tide.
She withdrew her hand, lowered her eyes, and curved the corners of her lips into a smile.
The first crack has appeared.
In the Pope's Palace, on the throne, Bibi Dong leaned back in her chair, her eyes closed.
She stopped thinking about the fragments and stopped suppressing the Rakshasa Divine Power.
She was waiting... waiting for that turbulent mass to calm down on its own.
She didn't know how long she would have to wait, but she knew it would eventually calm down.
This time, it was waiting for her.
The wind swept across the walls of Spirit City, and people inside and outside the city were all waiting.