Qian Renxue

Just as the group was lost in their own thoughts and the atmosphere had loosened subtly due to Feather Light Douluo's ill-timed suggestion, Qian Daoliu, who had remained silent until now, finally spoke.

His voice was not loud, yet it reached everyone's ears clearly, carrying a steady power that seemed to settle the heavens and the earth.

"Feather Light."

With just that one name, Feather Light Douluo immediately shrank his neck, not daring to say another word.

Qian Daoliu's gaze returned to the altar, fixed upon the sleeping child, and he said slowly, "As it stands, although this child is undergoing a 'regression' the likes of which we have never seen, his life state is indeed continuing to improve, and his origin is becoming increasingly stable and pure."

He raised his hand slightly, faint golden light points swirling at his fingertips, pointing toward Ning Zha.

"This change exceeds the scope of any life growth or decay known to us. It is neither a sickness nor the erosion of external forces. Combining this child's previous encounters, his temperament, and the special environment he is currently in..."

Qian Daoliu's voice was calm and resolute.

"I believe this is also a part of his metamorphosis."

"It is his physical body, and even the essence of his life, undergoing a more thorough 'reshaping' and 'consolidation' after experiencing that tragic death and rebirth, all while being nourished by the aura of the Angel God. This regression may be to lay a foundation that is more solid, more pure, and more inconceivable."

His gaze swept over the seven Worshipers, his eyes filled with an unquestionable decisiveness.

"Therefore, there is no need for interference at this time; we shall simply wait and see."

"Yes, Great Worshiper." The six Worshipers replied in unison, having no further objections.

Qian Daoliu nodded slightly, said nothing more, and continued to watch the altar in silence.

The radiance of the Angel God statue continued to fall softly, enveloping the child who was slowly "regressing." The Worship Hall returned to silence, leaving only an indescribable sense of anticipation and curiosity lingering in the hearts of the seven top powerhouses of the continent.

The future of this child seemed to be sliding toward a more unknown and imaginative distance, following this bizarre "regression."

Time flew by.

Another year passed.

Many things had happened on the continent. The number of talented soul masters emerging in various regions far exceeded previous years, and the competition for enrollment among various academies and sects became increasingly fierce.

In the Heaven Dou Empire, Emperor Xue Ye appointed the sixteen-year-old Xue Qinghe as Crown Prince, shaking the imperial court.

As for the "Death of Ning Zha" that had shocked the continent a year ago—just as Ning Fengzhi had expected, people's memories were ultimately short-lived. New topics of conversation emerged one after another, and the old story was pushed into the corners of casual chatter.

Occasionally, someone would mention it, only to let out a sigh before moving on.

The world had always been this way.

There were too many things concerning the living; as for the stories of the dead—who would still remember them?

--

Martial Soul Hall, Worship Hall.

Early morning.

Just as the sky began to turn a pale white, the Angel God statue within the Worship Hall emitted a soft golden halo, shrouding the altar within it.

On the altar, an infant was sleeping quietly.

His face, the size of a fist, was white with a rosy tint, his breathing long and steady, and a layer of nearly invisible pale golden luster flowed faintly around his body. By the looks of it, he was merely a toddler of just over a year old.

This was Ning Zha.

After more than a year of "regression," his body had shrunk from a seven-year-old child back to the state of an infant in swaddling clothes. But as Qian Daoliu had said—this was not decay, but a reshaping. The life essence contained within that small body was so pure that it was unlike anything a mortal could possess.

At this moment, a figure appeared sneakily at the entrance of the hall.

He looked left, then looked right.

After confirming that no one was around, the figure walked quickly toward the altar and skillfully picked up the sleeping toddler.

His technique was very practiced. It was clearly not his first time doing this.

After picking up the child, the man did not linger, slipping out of the main hall with light steps, passing through the corridors, and arriving all the way at a dense forest on the outskirts of the Worship Hall.

The morning mist in the forest had not yet dissipated; birds chirped, and the flowers and trees were lush. The rising sunlight filtered through the branches and leaves, casting mottled shadows, and the air was refreshingly crisp.

"Little guy, being cooped up in there all day without even a breath of fresh air—how could that ever do?"

Feather Light Douluo looked down at the toddler in his arms, his tone filled with the affection of an old man teasing his grandchild.

Ning Zha remained with his eyes closed, sleeping soundly.

Feather Light did not mind, pacing slowly along the forest path while holding him, occasionally pointing at the birds flying overhead or the wildflowers blooming brightly by the roadside.

"See that? That's an oriole—never mind, you can't see it, you're asleep."

"This flower is quite pretty. When you wake up, this old man will pick one for you to play with."

After talking to himself for a long time, there was no response from the other side.

Feather Light was used to it.

He just held the child like that, walking around the forest again and again, the smile on his face warmer than the morning light.

Until—

"Senior Feather Light."

A crisp voice suddenly rang out from behind.

There was no anger in it, but the helplessness and restraint in that tone made Guang Ling's heart tighten more than any flare of temper would have.

She paused in her tracks.

She turned around slowly.

A young girl stood under the shade of the trees, ten paces away.

Her golden hair draped over her shoulders, and her golden eyes were cold and clear. Her features were beautiful and ethereal, as exquisitely carved as a statue, with a deep, familiar contour around her brows that vaguely resembled Qian Daoliu. Her white dress with gold embroidery accentuated her lithe and upright posture; her entire bearing was unlike that of an ordinary girl—it was a nobility and reserve etched into her very bones.

Though only fifteen or sixteen, she already possessed a calm aura that commanded respect without needing to speak.

Qian Renxue.

Qian Daoliu's granddaughter.

"Xiao Xue! You're back!" Guang Ling's expression instantly shifted from guilt to pleasant surprise as she hurried forward, clutching Ning Zha. "When did you arrive? I was just talking about you these past few days—"

"Senior Guang Ling." Qian Renxue interrupted her small talk, her gaze falling on the young child in her arms, her brows slightly furrowed. "You've brought him out again."

Guang Ling gave a dry laugh. "We're just out for a walk, getting some fresh air, it's not far—"

"What if something happens outside the protective range of the Angel God statue?" Qian Renxue's voice was not loud, but it carried an uncompromising seriousness. "Although his condition is stable now, the regression has not yet ended. The Grand Pontiff said that before this process is complete, it is not advisable for him to be away from the nourishment of the deity's aura for long, lest an accident occur."

Guang Ling opened her mouth, wanting to argue a point or two.

Qian Renxue had already reached out her hand.

"Give him to me."

Two words, concise and clear.

Guang Ling looked into those golden eyes, and the words on the tip of her tongue were swallowed back down. She sighed and honestly handed the young child over.

Qian Renxue took Ning Zha, her movements far more gentle and meticulous than Guang Ling's. She supported the infant's back with one hand and protected his head and neck with the other, settling him securely in the crook of her arm.

She lowered her head to take a look.

The young child was still fast asleep. His tiny fists were clenched against his chest, and a hint of a smile seemed to linger at the corners of his mouth.

Qian Renxue's eyes softened for an imperceptible moment.

She then turned and walked toward the direction of the main hall. Her pace was neither fast nor slow, steady as if she were afraid of disturbing something.

Guang Ling followed behind, step for step, her face filled with the helplessness of someone who had been scolded but dared not talk back.