A Method of Verification

Not long after Qian Renxue left, an attendant delivered breakfast on time.

After breakfast, it was already the hour of the dragon, and it was time for Fang Mo to head to the study.

The corridor was quiet.

Following the route he had taken several times before, Fang Mo passed through the side corridor and arrived at the study door.

The door was open.

Bibi Dong sat behind the desk. Today, she wore a light purple casual robe, her hair pinned behind her ear with a silver hairpin as she lowered her head to read through a dossier.

Her expression was focused and serious, her brows slightly furrowed and her lips pressed tight. This was her usual expression whenever she was considering a difficult problem.

Fang Mo stopped at the doorway and bowed to her.

"Greetings, Teacher."

Bibi Dong looked up.

Her violet eyes swept across Fang Mo's face and paused for a moment.

"Come in. Sit."

Fang Mo walked in, pulled over a chair, and sat down.

Bibi Dong closed the dossier in her hands and pushed it aside.

"Let's put today's lesson aside for now."

Though her tone remained calm, Fang Mo keenly sensed something unusual in it.

Bibi Dong spoke at a slower pace than usual, as though weighing her words.

"Qian Renxue came to see you earlier."

It was not a question.

It was a statement.

Fang Mo was not surprised.

This was the Pope Palace, and Bibi Dong's eyes and ears were everywhere.

Qian Renxue had barged into her disciple's room early in the morning. Naturally, something like that could not have escaped her notice.

"Yes," Fang Mo answered honestly. "Miss Qian Renxue came by."

Bibi Dong looked at Fang Mo, her gaze resting on his face for three seconds.

"What did she say?"

After thinking it over, Fang Mo neither exaggerated nor deliberately concealed anything.

"She asked what my Martial Soul was and why I was living in Spirit Hall."

After a pause, he added, "She also said... not just anyone could stand by Mother's side."

Bibi Dong lightly tapped the tabletop twice with her fingers, a habitual gesture whenever she felt uneasy.

"Xue'er..." Bibi Dong's voice suddenly dropped so low that Fang Mo could barely hear it. "She has always been like this..."

Silence spread through the room.

Fang Mo waited quietly.

He knew Bibi Dong's silence was not because she was considering whether to speak, but because she was hesitating over how much to say.

"Do you know why she bears resentment toward you?" Bibi Dong suddenly asked.

Fang Mo lowered his head slightly. "This disciple can roughly guess."

"Tell me."

"She does not care about this disciple." Fang Mo chose his words carefully. "What she cares about is Teacher's attention. My appearance made her feel threatened."

The look in Bibi Dong's eyes changed.

It was no longer scrutiny, but a complicated gaze laced with faint surprise.

A six-year-old child should not have possessed such insight.

Yet she did not press him further.

"You're right." Bibi Dong's voice regained its calm. "Xue'er is my..."

She paused.

Fang Mo waited for a long time.

"She is one of my knots..."

Bibi Dong fell silent for a long while before ultimately saying no more.

She slowly rose and walked toward the window, looking at the scenery outside with her back to Fang Mo.

Sunlight poured in through the window, tracing a gentle outline across her profile.

At that moment, Bibi Dong seemed less like the Pope and more like a young woman trapped by the past.

"You do not need to concern yourself with Xue'er's attitude." At last, she spoke again, her voice steadier. "I will handle it."

Fang Mo nodded.

"This disciple understands."

But he knew perfectly well that when Bibi Dong said, "I will handle it," she was most likely avoiding the issue.

She would not seek out Qian Renxue for a heart-to-heart talk, would not explain anything, and would certainly not take the initiative to repair their mother-daughter relationship.

She would choose the simplest and most self-deceptive method: pretending the problem did not exist.

Bibi Dong turned around and sat behind the desk again.

"Alright, prepare for the lesson."

Evening.

Bibi Dong had long since finished teaching, and Fang Mo had arrived at the Meditation Room to cultivate.

Inside the Spirit Sea.

Fang Mo sat cross-legged in the center of the darkness, cultivating according to the method Bibi Dong had taught him.

"Your Soul Power circulation was half a beat too slow." A hoarse, languid voice came from behind him.

Fang Mo paused.

He slowly turned around.

The phantom floated three steps away, far clearer than it had been ten days ago.

Her dark red eyes were no longer half-open and weak. They were now fully open, cold and proud, carrying an ingrained scrutiny.

The outlines of her features had also sharpened from their former blur.

A high nose bridge, thin lips, and a jawline as sharp as if carved by a blade.

Her face was identical to Bibi Dong's in the present world, yet her bearing was completely different.

"So you finally decided to wake up."

Fang Mo spoke.

Spirit Dong'er said nothing. Her phantom leaned slightly forward, her dark red eyes sweeping back and forth over Fang Mo's face.

There was a trace of displeasure in her voice. "Do you know what I sensed?"

Fang Mo raised an eyebrow.

"Whale Rubber. She personally used Soul Power to guide you, and now there's Xue'er..."

Dong'er's voice suddenly rose.

"She taught you the meridian chart hand by hand and even arranged for you to cultivate two rooms away from her bedchamber."

Listening to her tone, Fang Mo understood.

"Are you jealous?"

"Say that again?"

Dong'er's phantom abruptly pressed one step closer, her dark red eyes nearly touching Fang Mo's face.

A cold wave of Rakshasa Divinity rushed at him, carrying the deathly aura unique to a Remnant Soul.

Fang Mo did not retreat.

He calmly met those eyes identical to Bibi Dong's, the corners of his lips lifting slightly.

"She is your past. There is no need for you to be jealous of your own past."

Dong'er's phantom froze for a moment.

A complicated emotion flashed through her dark red eyes: anger, unwillingness, and an exceedingly well-hidden vulnerability.

"I'm not jealous..."

She drifted a step back, the edges of her phantom rippling faintly like water wrinkled by the wind.

"I'm just worried."

Fang Mo looked at her.

"You are too weak."

Dong'er's tone returned to its coldness. "What does it matter if a six-year-old has Innate Full Soul Power?

A Soul Master without a soul ring cannot even protect himself in this world."

Seeing Spirit Dong'er's string of reactions, Fang Mo could not help feeling that perhaps she could sense his thoughts.

Otherwise, how could she have changed so much after merely waking from a nap?

With that thought, Fang Mo suddenly came up with a way to test it. In a slightly puzzled tone, he said:

"By the way, while you were unconscious, I carefully examined my Martial Soul.

Though those were only guesses, I still cannot be certain, so I wanted to discuss it with you."

"You mean a way to indirectly improve your Martial Soul by using the Rakshasa Scythe's devouring ability?"

Dong'er narrowed her eyes slightly.

"When the Rakshasa Scythe fragment activated, I sensed that its original attribute had changed.

Its originally pure death attribute had gained an additional layer of devouring. That was the result of my two Martial Souls becoming entangled with divine power after they shattered."