Spirit City was majestic and magnificent.
From afar, its towering walls seemed to touch the horizon. They were built from enormous, milky-white stones of unknown origin, which glowed with a gentle yet solemn radiance beneath the sun.
At the city gates, crowds bustled like a flowing river. Hawkers' cries and the laughter and chatter of passersby blended into a noisy torrent.
Chen Doudou sat astride Pegasus, curiously surveying the scene below.
Compared with the people of Qingfeng City, the residents around Spirit City seemed to have a completely different spirit about them.
Their faces held less of the numbness and fear people showed when faced with Soul Masters, and more ease. Their clothes were neat, and many ordinary citizens even wore Spirit Hall badges on their chests to mark their status.
"Looks like Spirit Hall's doing a pretty good job of governing."
Chen Doudou offered his assessment.
"Of course."
A hint of pride colored Bibi Dong's voice as she surveyed the territory that belonged to her. "If we're going to rule the continent, then first we have to let the people under our rule live like human beings."
Just then, a sudden cry rang out from atop the city wall.
"Look out! That person's going to fall!"
Everyone looked over in a flash.
On the wall, a little girl who looked only seven or eight years old seemed to have been chasing and playing atop the battlements. She had lost her footing and was now dangling over the edge.
She clung desperately to the edge of the wall with both little hands, her face flushed red. Her legs kicked helplessly in the air, and she was clearly about to run out of strength and let go.
The wall was incredibly high. If she fell, she would certainly die.
Bibi Dong furrowed her brow, about to intervene.
But in the next instant, a holy golden streak of light suddenly tore through the sky.
A figure wreathed in angelic wings plunged down from above like a falling star with broken wings, moving so fast that only a blur remained.
She traced a graceful arc through the air, swept past the wall, and caught the little girl just as she let go and fell.
She landed lightly.
Her golden wings slowly folded away, revealing a lithe figure.
It was a girl, and she looked young—around ten years old.
She gently set the frightened little girl on the ground and patted her head. "Little one, don't play like that again. The wall's so high. If you fall, your big sister won't be able to save you a second time."
"Mm-hmm! Thank you, big sister!"
The little girl's face had gone deathly pale with fright. She nodded again and again.
Only then did the girl stand up and brush the dust from her clothes.
Bibi Dong narrowed her eyes, watching the Angel Phantom that had yet to completely fade behind the girl. She murmured, "The Holy Angel Martial Soul... She's descended from the Angel Legion."
As if sensing Bibi Dong's gaze, the girl with the Angel Martial Soul abruptly raised her eyes and looked over.
Her brows were delicately arched, her skin as fair as snow, and in the sunlight she seemed almost luminous.
She wore a neat, white outfit that accentuated her tall, dashing figure.
Most striking of all were the gold-rimmed glasses perched on her nose. Behind the lenses, her eyes were clear and sharp, lending her a unique air that blended scholarly refinement with martial spirit.
"Teacher, what is that?"
Jiang Nannan asked quietly. She, too, had been captivated by the girl's dashing rescue.
"The Holy Angel Martial Soul, a lesser form of the divine Six-Winged Angel Martial Soul."
Bibi Dong explained calmly, a complex emotion flashing through her eyes.
Watching the scene, Chen Doudou rubbed his chin. "Sister Dong, I think that big sister's way cooler."
Bibi Dong tapped him on the head, exasperated. "You only know how to look at faces."
She watched the girl in the distance, the corners of her lips lifting slightly.
It seemed Spirit Hall still had a deep foundation. The younger generation was more promising than she had imagined.
After Ye Guyi returned to Pope Palace, she couldn't shake the feeling that the purple-haired figure had seemed strangely familiar.
That distinctive pressure, that bearing—neither belonged to an ordinary person.
She thought it over and over until she finally remembered the portrait enshrined deep within Pope Palace.
"Teacher, do you believe that Saint Pope Bibi Dong, from ten thousand years ago, is still alive?"
Standing behind Wang Xian'er, Ye Guyi couldn't help asking.
Wang Xian'er was reading an ancient book. At the question, her hand paused, but she didn't look up. "How could that be? The Saint Pope ascended with our ancestor, the Angel God, long ago. That's clearly recorded in the history books."
"But, Teacher..."
Ye Guyi pointed to the lifelike portrait on the wall, her voice trembling slightly. "I really saw someone exactly like the person in that portrait. Just now, at the city gate—the purple-haired woman. Even her eyes were the same."
The feather pen in Wang Xian'er's hand trembled slightly.
She slowly turned around and looked at Ye Guyi, her tone growing sterner. "Guyi, you've probably been too tired lately and imagined it. Maybe that person just looked a little like the Saint Pope. Don't make such a fuss.
"You must remember that you possess the Holy Angel Martial Soul. You are the angel with the highest bloodline rank in Spirit Hall today. You must train hard. Perhaps one day, you'll earn the favor of the Angel God once more."
"Yes, Teacher."
Ye Guyi lowered her head, looking confused and doubtful of herself. Had she really been mistaken?
Wang Xian'er looked at the disciple in whom she placed her greatest hopes. The sternness in her eyes softened. "Go on. Elder Peng, take Guyi back to prepare."
"The Martial Soul Academy's opening ceremony is in a few days. I'll take Guyi as my disciple in front of everyone! I'll let them all know that Spirit Hall has worthy successors!"
"Yes, Your Holiness."
Scorpion Tiger Douluo Zhang Peng bowed and led Ye Guyi out of the great hall.
Only Wang Xian'er remained inside.
The candlelight flickered, illuminating the enormous portrait on the wall.
The woman in the painting had purple hair streaming behind her and held the Demon Scythe in her hand. Her eyes swept imperiously across the world, as if she meant to trample everything beneath her feet.
Wang Xian'er walked up to the portrait. The composure she had maintained before her disciple fell away, as though she had shed every disguise.
Her hand trembled as she reached out and gently touched the painted woman's cheek.
"Great Saint Pope..."
Her voice choked. The authority she had worn during the day was gone. "How am I supposed to lead Spirit Hall forward?"
"The Sun Moon Empire is growing stronger. It looks ready to launch another war, yet Spirit Hall no longer commands the awe it once did..."
"The sects that once submitted to us are secretly building up their strength. Some have even begun to disregard us."
Wang Xian'er shut her eyes in pain. Two lines of tears slid down her cheeks. "If this goes on... what will become of us... of Spirit Hall? [Sobbing]"
Bibi Dong in the portrait, of course, gave no answer.
Those purple eyes remained cold, gazing at this declining world.
As for why Bibi Dong's title was "Saint Pope," the answer was that under her leadership, Spirit Hall had reached unprecedented heights of prosperity.
She had come within a hair's breadth of unifying the continent and establishing a divine dynasty unlike any the world had ever known.
To honor her, later Popes bestowed the title "Saint" upon her, making it an honorific reserved for her for all eternity.
It was an honor even Qian Renxue had never received.
Wang Xian'er sank into the cold Papal throne. Alone in the empty hall, she felt more isolated than ever.
Great Saint Pope...
If you're truly still alive, please open your eyes and look upon your people.
Look at the legacy you left behind, crumbling bit by bit...
Look at your dream, trampled underfoot, piece by piece...
Before you continue