The Argument When the Two Met

Fang Mo and the other two slept together.

Moonlight slipped in through the gaps in the window, falling on Qian Renxue's smiling sleeping face and on Dong'er's translucent soul body.

Warm and peaceful, with time passing quietly.

Yet, beyond several walls and down several corridors—

Inside Pope Bibi Dong's bedchamber was an entirely different scene.

Bibi Dong sat on the edge of her bed.

She had already changed out of her papal robes and was wearing a deep-purple silk nightgown.

Her long hair cascaded down her back like a waterfall, the ends falling to her waist in slight curls.

The bedchamber was spacious. Since she lived there alone, it felt especially empty.

There were no unnecessary decorations, no flowers, and no warm-colored lamps.

Bibi Dong sat at the bedside, lost in thought.

She was thinking about what had happened today.

That conversation with Spirit Dong'er, which she had initiated herself.

Several hours earlier.

Pope Palace, study.

After Fang Mo left, the entire study fell into a long silence.

Bibi Dong sat behind her desk.

Her gaze rested on the chair Fang Mo had occupied, while his final words before leaving echoed repeatedly in her mind:

"No matter what you talked about, this disciple will stand by your side."

She did not know what those words meant.

What could a six-year-old child possibly know?

But what Bibi Dong did not know was that after Fang Mo said those words, something in a corner of her heart stirred slightly.

"What are you still waiting for?"

A voice suddenly rang out in the study.

Bibi Dong's pupils contracted slightly.

She raised her head and looked toward the center of the study.

A mass of Dark Purple Mist was slowly gathering, emerging from nothingness, shifting from illusion to substance, gradually stretching into the slender outline of a woman.

She was tall, with graceful curves and a voluptuous figure, her long hair cascading down like a waterfall.

Dark red eyes slowly opened.

Cold. Proud.

They carried a calm scrutiny that had transcended time and been carved into the bones.

That face...

Was exactly the same as her own.

Yet her bearing was entirely different.

If the Bibi Dong of this era was a frozen volcano, hard and cold on the outside while turmoil churned within—

Then the soul body before her was a volcano that had already erupted.

Scorching residual heat remained amid the ashes, but the volcano itself would never erupt again.

Because she had already burned herself away.

Looking at that identical face, Bibi Dong's heartbeat involuntarily skipped faster.

It was not fear.

It was a strange, heart-stirring... sense of recognition.

"You..."

Bibi Dong spoke, her voice calmer than she had expected. "You are the soul within Fang Mo's Martial Soul?"

Spirit Dong'er did not answer.

She merely floated in the center of the study, staring unblinkingly at Bibi Dong.

That gaze was like she was looking at something she knew too well, understood too deeply, yet also pitied too much.

"I'm asking you a question."

Bibi Dong's tone hardened slightly.

She did not like being stared at like this, especially not by someone who looked exactly like her.

The feeling was far too strange.

It was like looking into a mirror, except the person in the mirror was still as charming as ever, yet had endured every hardship she herself had not yet experienced.

Dong'er finally spoke. "Why are you in such a hurry? Let me have a good look at you."

Her voice was hoarse and weak, carrying a trace of languid exhaustion.

"A young face, a body from years ago, a godhood that has not yet shattered..."

She slowly drifted a step closer, her eyes sweeping back and forth over Bibi Dong's face.

"How wonderful."

(I originally wanted to add in the earlier illustrations, but it seems I changed too much, and now my editing has been restricted, qwq.)

Bibi Dong frowned slightly. "You agreed to come out just to sigh over these things?"

"No."

Dong'er's tone suddenly turned serious.

"I came to find you because there is something I must tell you."

"What is it?"

Dong'er's dark red eyes narrowed slightly, and a complicated emotion flickered through their depths.

"It concerns Yu Xiaogang."

Three words.

Bibi Dong's body stiffened slightly.

Something instantly tightened in her violet eyes, like the string of a zither being plucked.

"What do you want to say?"

Bibi Dong's voice became several degrees colder.

Ignoring her defensiveness, Dong'er spoke calmly, even with a trace of disdain.

"About that Ten Core Competencies of Martial Soul Yu Xiaogang wrote..."

Dong'er paused, the corners of her lips curling slightly. But it was not a smile. It was a bitter curve laced with mockery.

"Nine and a half of those ten theories are wrong."

The air in the study froze.

Bibi Dong's pupils suddenly shrank, and a sharp glint flashed through her eyes.

"What did you say?"

"I have already made myself very clear."

Dong'er's tone did not ripple in the slightest.

"Nine and a half of them are wrong. The remaining half is his line, 'There are only worthless Soul Masters.'"

Pope Bibi Dong could not help but freeze upon hearing that.

Because she had already understood the deeper meaning behind those words: Dong'er was calling Yu Xiaogang worthless.

Bibi Dong abruptly rose to her feet.

"You—!"

Her voice rose several pitches, but she quickly forced it back down, unwilling to let the guards outside hear.

"Do you know what you are saying?!"

Bibi Dong's chest heaved violently. She had never imagined that her future self would judge Yu Xiaogang in such a way.

Complicated emotions churned in her eyes.

Shock, astonishment, anger, confusion, and a defensive instinct born of someone touching her sore spot.

"Xiaogang's Martial Soul Theory is the most systematic and complete Martial Soul Research System on the entire Douluo Continent!"

Bibi Dong lowered her voice, every word seeming to squeeze out through clenched teeth.

"He spent decades traveling through every corner of the continent and studying thousands of Martial Souls before he summarized that theory! What gives you the right to say his theory is wrong?"

Dong'er did not get angry.

She merely floated there quietly, staring unblinkingly at Bibi Dong as though she were looking at a stubborn, ignorant child.

"What are you looking at?"

Bibi Dong's voice grew even colder.

"I'm looking at you." Dong'er's voice was soft. "I'm looking at the me from back then, the one who had been swept away by love."

"You—!"

Bibi Dong's face instantly turned pale.

She wanted badly to refute those words, but they were like a blade, piercing precisely where she least wanted anyone to touch.

Love.

She had never told anyone about what happened between her and Yu Xiaogang.

"I'm telling you."

Dong'er's tone did not yield in the slightest.

"In a few more years, those theories of his will be tested again and again. Then you will discover...

Yu Xiaogang's so-called theory is nothing but a false theory, a pile of pieced-together summaries of experience.

He has never personally verified a single one of them, nor has he ever conducted even one systematic controlled experiment.

He himself is only in his twenties! A worthless man who has not even reached rank thirty—tell me, what right does he have to write theories meant to guide the cultivation of Soul Masters across the entire continent?"

Bibi Dong's body trembled slightly.

Not because of anger.

But because she could find no reason to refute her.

It was not that she did not want to argue.

It was because every word Dong'er spoke was like a precise scalpel, cutting open the questions she had always avoided in her heart.

Yu Xiaogang's theories truly were controversial.

She knew that.

The old ministers of the Elder Hall had questioned them before. People from the Consecrated Hall had discussed them in private. Even the three great sects had raised differing opinions.

But she had never considered those doubts.

Because she believed in Yu Xiaogang.