Bibi Dong's Decision

Deep night.

In the Library Pavilion, only a single dim oil lamp flickered, casting a feeble light.

Su Chen leaned against the repaired bamboo chair, the light screen of the Eye of Omniscience having just faded into his Sea of Divine Consciousness.

Outside the door, the wind grew sharper, carrying the bleak chill of early autumn.

"Creak~"

The dilapidated wooden door was pushed open without a sound.

Cold wind poured into the room instantly, causing the oil lamp's flame to sway violently and stretching the shadows on the wall into distorted, shifting shapes.

Bibi Dong stepped over the threshold. Tonight, she had not donned the inconspicuous casual clothes she wore the previous days, nor did she carry that laughable food box.

She wore her standard Pope attire: a dark purple base embroidered with intricate gold patterns.

Her tall crown shimmered with a cold, metallic luster under the dim light.

Her boots clicked against the floorboards scattered with wood shavings.

Bibi Dong stopped before the tea table, looking down at Su Chen on the bamboo chair with a gaze full of oppressive weight.

The air temperature plummeted.

"Tomorrow is the Martial Soul Hall year-end Sacrificial Ceremony. The Worship Hall has demanded to verify the identities of all inner court personnel."

Bibi Dong's face was as cold as water, her voice laced with a bone-chilling frost. "You will be forcibly required to display your martial soul in public."

Su Chen jolted up from the bamboo chair, startled into a rigid posture, his hands wringing together in a flustered mess.

He kept his head bowed, eyes fixed firmly on the cracks in the floor, not daring to draw a full breath.

Yet, deep within his lowered gaze, inside his Sea of Divine Consciousness, the Eye of Omniscience lit up silently.

A pale blue light screen popped up instantly.

Bibi Dong's data panel unfolded before his eyes, a glaring, blood-red mess.

[Target: Binder No. 001 · Bibi Dong]

[Current Emotion: Anxiety 90% / Desperate / Killing Intent off the charts]

[Inner Monologue: That old dog Qian Daoliu has set a death trap. If this cannot be resolved, I must have Angela take him through the secret passage. This Pope position is not worth keeping!]

Bibi Dong watched Su Chen's thin, tense shoulders, her phoenix eyes narrowing as she continued to cast this cruel reality upon him.

"When Pei Yuan tested you before, although he only saw a withered branch martial soul, the Great Worship has likely obtained intelligence regarding the emerald patterns that once flashed on the back of your hand."

Bibi Dong's hands, hidden within her wide sleeves, clenched violently, her nails digging deep into her palms.

Her voice grew increasingly strained, suppressing a surge of fury.

"Qian Daoliu has come prepared. Tomorrow, on the high platform, they will use their spiritual power to conduct a soul-searching and bone-verifying scan that will leave you no escape. If your trash martial soul shows even the slightest flaw, it will be a capital offense for deceiving the inner court. The Worship Hall Enforcement Squad will execute you on the spot!"

Su Chen gripped the edges of the bamboo chair so hard his knuckles turned white, the chair emitting an unbearable "creaking" sound.

He kept his head down, his face taut, while his mind raced to deduce the situation for tomorrow.

This was indeed a multi-layered death trap.

If he only displayed a pure "withered branch" martial soul in front of everyone tomorrow, Pei Yuan and the others would certainly seize the opportunity to brand him an "unidentified person with no soul power" and forcibly erase him, all to slap the Pope in the face.

If he used the origin of the World Tree to resist the spiritual probe of a Limit Douluo like Qian Daoliu, exposing his trump card too early would not only violate his long-standing principle of keeping a low profile, but would also turn him into a divine object in the eyes of these Martial Soul Hall lunatics, something to be dissected and studied.

This was a dead end with no way out.

The only method was to flip the table and muddy the waters completely.

He had to force the conflict between the Pope Palace and the Worship Hall to erupt before the martial soul display.

Su Chen's shoulders began to tremble violently.

He opened his mouth, his breathing becoming extremely rapid, his chest heaving as if he were a drowning man.

He slowly raised his head.

His eyes were red like a rabbit's, filled with bloodshot veins.

In those eyes, there was not a hint of calculation, only despair, terror, and a desperate, tragic intensity.

He stared fixedly at Bibi Dong.

"Your Holiness..." Su Chen's lips were white, his voice trembling with thick, pathetic pleading. "This subordinate... is this subordinate going to die tomorrow?"

This sentence was like a poisoned iron nail, piercing deep into Bibi Dong's heart.

Bibi Dong's breath hitched sharply.

Her pupils constricted.

The purple-black Rakshasa Death Qi she had been suppressing with all her might lost control at this moment, spilling out and causing the floor tiles to hiss and smoke as they corroded.

Su Chen watched Bibi Dong's trembling fingertips, which she was trying desperately to restrain, and confirmed the emotional tipping point.

The timing was ripe.

He did not seize the chance to throw himself at her for help; instead, he abruptly released his grip on the chair back, stumbled half a step backward, and widened the distance between himself and Bibi Dong.

Su Chen squeezed out a smile uglier than tears, the laughter within it revealing a chilling sense of resolve.

"This subordinate's life is cheap; it is not worth pitying."

He looked at Bibi Dong, the fear in his bloodshot eyes gone, replaced only by a pathological steadfastness.

"You are the supreme Pope. If tomorrow's so-called Exhibition were to implicate your reputation or give the Worship Hall a handle to use against you... I would rather sever my own heart meridians before stepping onto that platform!"

Su Chen spoke every word with heavy, deliberate force, each one striking the ground like a hammer.

"Even if I die, I will never let you be constrained by Qian Daoliu in the slightest!"

Dead silence.

The air inside the Library Pavilion was completely drained away.

This ultimate declaration—not seeking life but death, willing to offer everything for the Pope—transformed into a ten-thousand-ton hammer, smashing into Bibi Dong's Sea of Divine Consciousness.

For forty years, she had been trapped in the power vortex of the Martial Soul Hall.

She had seen enough of deceit and treachery, enough of betrayals where any means were used to achieve an end, and enough of the cowardly, retreating back of Yu Xiaogang.

Never had anyone been willing to surrender their own life without reservation just to protect her.

Su Chen's words pierced straight through her final line of rational defense.

The light screen data from the Eye of Omniscience exploded.

[Heart-paining value: Critical threshold exceeded!]

[Protective instinct: Extremely intense (The system's prohibition is barely holding it back)]

"Bang!"

Bibi Dong took a step forward, her heavy military boots crushing the wooden floorboards beneath her into splinters.

She treated the system's "Strictly Prohibited from Active Contact" order as nothing more than wind, her right hand lashing out violently.

Her five fingers, like iron pincers, clamped down fiercely on Su Chen's left shoulder.

Purple-black soul power boiled around her, the very air distorted and blurred by the Rakshasa Death Qi.

In Bibi Dong's phoenix eyes burned an irrepressible, violent madness and an unquestionable dominance.

"Shut up!"

She stared into Su Chen's eyes, each word dripping with blood, squeezed out from between her teeth.

"As long as This Seat does not command your death, even the King of Hell cannot take you! Tomorrow, you simply stand there; even if the sky falls, This Seat will hold it up for you!"

A sharp pain, as if his bones were about to shatter, radiated from his shoulder. Su Chen let out a muffled groan.

On the surface, he maintained a dazed and terrified expression, his eyes vacant, looking exactly like someone scared out of his wits.

But deep within his Sea of Divine Consciousness, the light screen of the Eye of Omniscience simultaneously captured two excellent pieces of feedback.

Before him, on Bibi Dong's panel, the "Death Wish" status was now completely locked: [At all costs, swear to initiate the Ancient Secret Path Project].

And on the warning radar at the edge of the screen, a golden cursor belonging to Qian Renxue was flickering violently.

The data surfaced accordingly:

[Long-range monitoring: Young Master Palace]

[Status: Holding a wooden comb, spirit in a state of high agitation]

[Desire to battle the Pope: 95% (Still skyrocketing)]

[Inner monologue: Tomorrow at the Sacrificial Ceremony, I want to see how that madwoman cleans up this mess! The truth about this piece of trash can only be investigated by me!]

Su Chen allowed Bibi Dong to grip his shoulder tightly, sneering inwardly.

Killing two birds with one stone, the "bitter flesh" ruse of retreating to advance had been a resounding success.

These two most powerful women in the Martial Soul Hall were already fully armed, preparing to stage an epic, protective showdown over him at tomorrow's Sacrificial Ceremony.

The scene shifted.

The camera cut to a deep, underground secret chamber within the Worship Hall.

Dim candlelight flickered, and the air inside the stone room was chillingly oppressive.

At the head of the long table, Qian Daoliu sat in the shadows, slowly extending his withered fingers to pull open an ancient dark gold box before him.

The sound of metal scraping was jarringly sharp in the deathly quiet chamber.

The lid opened.

Qian Daoliu reached inside and withdrew a token, entirely golden and radiating an ancient aura.

It was the "Holy Judgment Token," engraved with the nine divine patterns of the Six-Winged Angel, representing the supreme adjudicatory power of the Martial Soul Hall.

"Hum!"

A brilliant golden, sacred light instantly erupted from the token, dispelling the surrounding darkness.

The blinding radiance forced Golden Crocodile Douluo and Pei Yuan, who were standing to the side, to instinctively squint their eyes.

Qian Daoliu's rough fingertips slowly traced the patterns on the edge of the token.

A cold, murderous intent centered on him and began to spread outward like a madness.