Old Man! Are You Going to Fight Tang Chen One-on-One or Not?!

"Hmph!"

Qian Xunji snorted heavily. He turned around, his eyes blazing as he said, "There's nothing impossible about it!"

He paced twice across the hall, his long robe whispering against the floor, then stopped and asked:

"Is there another way?"

"There is."

Zhao Linchuan continued, "We could hold a tournament, open to everyone in the world, with no entry requirements."

"And then..." He lifted his head, his gaze clear and bright. "We'll have the young talents of Spirit Hall defeat the direct disciples of those sects in front of the whole world, with overwhelming strength."

The hall fell silent for a moment. Qian Xunji didn't answer right away.

He turned around and looked at Bibi Dong, as if seeking her opinion.

"What do you think of this idea?"

Bibi Dong inclined her head slightly and replied, "Linchuan's idea is very good."

She straightened and said with a firm gaze, "The sects have been commanding a lot of attention these past few years."

"Especially the Clear Sky Twin Stars. There have long been rumors that, given time, the Clear Sky Sect will produce another Clear Sky Douluo."

Her voice grew heavier. "By then, Spirit Hall will decline completely."

She looked at Qian Xunji, her tone resolute. "That's why I fully support Linchuan's plan."

"We'll defeat the heirs of those sects with overwhelming strength."

"We'll show those restless sects across the continent just how powerful the new generation of Soul Masters in Spirit Hall is!"

As Qian Xunji listened, the gloom gradually lifted from his face, replaced by a satisfied, triumphant delight.

"Excellent!" He nodded emphatically, his voice eager. "We'll do just that. You two may leave."

"Yes." Zhao Linchuan and Bibi Dong exchanged a glance, then excused themselves in unison and walked out of the hall side by side.

Silence settled over the hall once more.

Qian Xunji stood alone in the vast hall. His smile slowly faded, and he murmured:

"I should go see that useless old man of mine..."

About a quarter of an hour later.

The Worship Hall, Qian Daoliu's residence.

It was a courtyard so plain it was almost austere, utterly unlike the grand splendor of Spirit Hall.

There was only a table and a chair in the courtyard, along with an old pine tree. Nothing else adorned it.

Qian Xunji stood in the courtyard, holding the Angel Holy Sword in both hands. He pressed its blade to his own neck, the edge against his skin, its cold gleam glinting sharply.

His voice rang out so loudly that it echoed throughout the entire courtyard.

"Old man! Are you going to fight Tang Chen one-on-one or not?!"

Qian Xunji stared at the figure seated before him with his back turned. His voice rose even higher. "If you won't go, I'll kill myself!"

Qian Daoliu's back remained utterly still.

Qian Xunji watched that silent figure. His Adam's apple bobbed, and his voice took on a reckless, nothing-left-to-lose edge.

"Old man! I'm your only son!"

"Sure, I'm a bit of a good-for-nothing, but I'm still your flesh and blood!"

He pressed the sword more firmly against his neck. The blade cut through the skin, drawing a thin line of red.

"If I die, your family line ends with you!"

"Wretch—!"

Qian Daoliu's voice crashed like thunder from a clear sky, shaking the entire courtyard.

His figure vanished in an instant.

The next moment, he appeared before Qian Xunji like an angel.

His right hand shot up so fast that even its afterimage was impossible to make out.

"Smack—!!"

A resounding slap.

Before Qian Xunji could even cry out, he flew backward like a cannonball and slammed into the courtyard wall.

"Boom—!"

The sturdy wall caved in where he hit it, cracks spreading outward like a spiderweb.

Qian Xunji slid down the wall and collapsed to the ground. Half his face was swollen high, and blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.

Qian Daoliu stood before him, his chest heaving and his hands trembling with rage.

"You little wretch! You'd threaten your own father like that?"

His voice was low and hoarse, every word forced through clenched teeth.

He drew a deep breath, forcing down his surging fury, then said coldly, "Tell me, what happened to the group of Soul Masters who died in the Deep Sea?"

Qian Xunji's body stiffened visibly. He didn't dare answer or even speak.

His eyes darted to the side. Then he simply lay down on the ground, closed his eyes, and lay perfectly still, pretending to be dead.

Watching his son's spineless refusal to own up to what he'd done, Qian Daoliu felt his temples throb.

He truly regretted that he hadn't put the good-for-nothing on the wall himself back then!

He closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath, then slowly let it out.

Only after repeating this several times did he manage to suppress the surge of Evil Fire.

"Tang Chen and I have already made an agreement."

"In a few days, we'll set out for the Deep Sea to investigate."

He turned his back on Qian Xunji, who was sprawled on the ground, and gazed at the old pine tree in the courtyard.

"As far as I know, Tang Chen intends to wander the world in search of a god's inheritance."

"Once we leave, there's a good chance he won't come back."

He sighed. The sound was faint, yet it seemed to carry the weight of a thousand jun.

"While we're gone, do whatever you want."

His voice held a trace of indulgence. "Even if Tang Chen does come back, your father can still cover for you."

He fell silent for a moment, then suddenly remembered something and turned his head slightly.

"Oh, right." His tone grew more casual. "That boy Zhao Linchuan is quite impressive. Much stronger than you were at his age, and there's a good chance he has some connection to the gods."

Qian Xunji got up from the ground, brushed the dust off himself, and listened obediently.

"Golden Crocodile went on my orders to take him as a disciple, but that's not enough."

Qian Daoliu turned around, his gaze settling on his son's face.

"You need to find a way to keep him in Spirit Hall for good."

He enunciated every word. "Understood?"

Qian Xunji covered his swollen cheek and grinned. "Yes..."

Elsewhere.

After leaving the Pope Hall, Zhao Linchuan and Bibi Dong didn't go their separate ways. Instead, they walked side by side through the many corridors of Spirit Hall, heading straight for the Judgment Hall.

The dungeon lay beneath the Judgment Hall.

It had been built deep underground. The farther down they went, the colder and damper the air became. Torches crackled on the walls, stretching their shadows long and dark.

The guards recognized Bibi Dong's clothing and bowed aside to let them pass. None dared ask a single question.

They stopped outside a cell. It wasn't very large, and some straw had been laid in one corner. A figure was curled up on it, fast asleep.

Bibi Dong's gaze fell on the prisoner, and her brow furrowed slightly.

There wasn't a single injury on the prisoner. His robe was a little wrinkled, but clean, without even a trace of blood.

She turned to the guard Soul Master beside her, whose forehead was already beaded with sweat, and her voice turned cold.

"What's going on? Didn't I tell you to interrogate him thoroughly?"

The guard Soul Master shuddered and quickly bowed. His voice was anxious and fearful as he said, "Your Highness, Saintess, this prisoner's case is of great importance, and his identity is far too special. We humble subordinates didn't dare use torture."