But the harder she tried to remember...
the more clearly Qian Yu's deep, teasing, utterly certain eyes appeared before her.
"Time is the best lie detector for testing all that is false."
"Turn around and forget all about you, then throw himself into another woman's arms."
"Shut up!
Shut up!!!"
Bibi Dong clapped her hands over her ears in agony. Tears burst forth like a breached dam, instantly soaking the front of her clothes.
The reason and pride she had always been so proud of had been torn to pieces by Qian Yu's precisely aimed psychological assault.
She was afraid.
She was truly afraid that Qian Yu was right.
If the love she had fought her whole life for, even sacrificing her freedom to obtain, had turned out to be nothing but a ridiculous lie...
Then what kind of joke had Bibi Dong's entire life been?!
Amid this endless self-torment and fear, utterly exhausted, Bibi Dong finally fell asleep.
Even in her dreams, her brows remained tightly furrowed, crystalline tear tracks glistening at the corners of her eyes.
Meanwhile.
Outside the Pope Palace, the sun still shone brightly.
With his hands clasped behind his back, Qian Yu strolled along the white-jade corridor, seemingly in an excellent mood, a faint smile always playing at the corners of his mouth.
"My lord."
A black shadow, as ghostlike as its name, soundlessly appeared behind Qian Yu and dropped to one knee, its posture utterly reverent.
The newcomer was shrouded in a black robe, its very presence seemingly merging with the surrounding shadows.
It was the leader of the death squad Qian Yu had secretly trained.
Shadow.
Qian Yu stopped but did not turn around. He merely gave his orders in an even tone:
"Two things."
"First, spread the word. The Saintess's wedding in half a month must shake the entire Douluo Continent.
Make it grander than the enthronement of any Pope before her."
"I want everyone beneath the heavens to know that Bibi Dong is my woman."
"Your subordinate obeys!"
The shadow replied in a deep voice.
"The second thing..."
Qian Yu narrowed his eyes slightly. A cold, calculating glint flashed through their depths.
"Send two of the best-hidden Shadow Guards to follow that piece of trash who was thrown out of the city."
"Remember, do not interfere in his life at all. Even if he's starving to death or about to be beaten to death, don't step in."
Qian Yu turned around and tossed an Image Recording Stone from his Storage Soul Tool.
He had found it in a ruin.
"The only thing you have to do is use this Image Recording Stone.
Record every last detail of his life out there for me."
"How he struggles for survival in the mud like a stray dog.
How he wags his tail and begs people for a few Gold Soul Coins.
And how he... tries to seduce other women."
"Record every detail clearly, down to the tiniest thing."
"Understood?"
The shadow accepted the Image Recording Stone with both hands. A glimmer of understanding passed through its eyes, and it bowed respectfully.
"Your subordinate understands!
I will not fail you, my lord. I will bring back every last detail of Yu Xiaogang at his most pathetic!"
Qian Yu nodded in satisfaction and waved his hand.
The shadow instantly melted into a pool of ink and vanished.
"Yu Xiaogang, Yu Xiaogang. I've already set the stage for you."
Qian Yu looked up at the distant, azure sky, the smile at the corners of his mouth turning ever colder.
"Don't disappoint me and my poor fiancée."
Thirty li outside Spirit City.
Beside a desolate, remote graveyard.
"Bang!"
A battered carriage sped past. A blood-soaked sack was roughly kicked out of the carriage and slammed into a stinking ditch full of mud.
"Ahhh!!!"
With a scream of utter anguish, the sack began to writhe and struggle violently.
"Pah!
What a piece of trash. He actually dared to offend Lord Qian Yu. The bastard's not even worth getting my hands dirty!"
On the carriage, a Spirit Hall knight spat in disgust.
"Forget it. Leave the dead dog alone. His lordship said to throw him out of the city, that's all.
Let's go back and report."
Another knight flicked the reins. The carriage sped away, leaving only clouds of dust swirling in its wake.
In the ditch.
A hand covered in mud and blood struggled out of the sack.
Then came Yu Xiaogang's face, twisted beyond recognition by extreme pain and fear.
"My legs... My legs!!!"
Yu Xiaogang wailed miserably, digging his hands into the muck so hard that his fingernails peeled back and bled.
The kneecaps in both his legs had been smashed by the Spirit Hall's enforcement knights with iron hammers.
The bone-deep agony had made him pass out from pain several times, only to be jolted awake by it again.
Like a mangy dog with its backbone broken, he writhed in agony in the foul-smelling sludge.
The neat robe that had once proclaimed his status as the "Grandmaster" had become nothing but rags.
Mingled with blood and mud, it reeked of a nauseating stench.
"Qian Yu... Spirit Hall... You devils! You'll all die horrible deaths!!!"
Coughing up blood, Yu Xiaogang cursed furiously through his broken teeth.
But when he struggled to lift his head and saw the silhouette of Spirit City on the distant horizon—
That towering city, symbol of absolute power—
The venom in his eyes was instantly swallowed by boundless terror.
He remembered Qian Yu's icy gaze in the water prison, as if he were looking at a dead man.
He remembered the warning that had made him wish he were dead and yet unable to die.
"I can't stay here... I have to escape... I have to get as far away from here as possible..."
Yu Xiaogang shuddered as if electrocuted. He didn't even dare curse aloud anymore.
At that moment, in the mind of this man,
there wasn't the slightest concern for Bibi Dong.
He didn't think about the girl who had been forced to marry a devil to save his worthless life, or the despair she must be suffering now.
His mind was entirely consumed by himself.
By how he could stay alive.
"Dong'er... I'm sorry. I can't save you. I can't even save myself..."
As he made himself this high-minded excuse, Yu Xiaogang wept cowardly tears.
Then he clenched his teeth and dug his hands into the weeds and muck.
Dragging his two completely ruined legs, he crawled through the mud like an utterly repulsive maggot.
Little by little, he inched away from Spirit City, in the most wretched fashion.
Behind him, he left a long, horrifying trail of blood-red mud.
In the shadows beneath the canopy of a tree not far from the graveyard,
a pair of cold, merciless eyes watched it all in silence.
A transparent crystal was secretly glowing.
It recorded the "Grandmaster's" most genuine, most unsightly struggle to survive perfectly.
Half a month passed in the blink of an eye.
Spirit City, the holy land in the hearts of Soul Masters across the continent, had now been transformed into a glaring sea of red.
From the magnificent city gates all the way to the supreme Pope Palace,
the broad streets stretching tens of thousands of meters were covered in red carpet woven from the finest Ice Silkworm silk.
Every ten steps along the road stood a Temple Knight in gleaming silver armor, holding a long halberd.
They looked imposing, their aura soaring skyward.
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