Before the Worship Hall, it was even quieter than before the Pope Palace.
There were no Deacons coming and going.
No noisy Soul Masters.
Only towering white stone steps leading all the way to the hall doors.
Angel reliefs stood on either side of the steps, their six wings spread wide, sacred and majestic.
Di Yao stood at the foot of the stairs and glanced up.
His chest still ached faintly.
Bibi Dong had just suppressed his injuries for him, but they would not heal so quickly.
Every breath brought a dull pang to his chest.
But Di Yao did not pause for long.
He stepped onto the stairs.
When he had only reached halfway, a rough voice rang out from before the hall doors.
"You're Di Yao?"
The voice was heavy.
Like metal striking stone steps.
Di Yao looked up.
Before the hall doors stood a tall, powerfully built old man.
Silver hair draped loose around him, his aura wild and fierce, a Coiling Dragon Staff held horizontally in his hand.
Falling Devil Douluo.
Beside him stood another old man with a steadier, deeper aura. He too held a Coiling Dragon Staff, but said nothing.
Thousand Jun Douluo.
Falling Devil Douluo sized Di Yao up and down, his eyes openly filled with curiosity and scrutiny.
"A three-ring Soul Elder?"
He frowned, his voice carrying a trace of dissatisfaction.
"Spirit City has been making you sound more terrifying than a Title Douluo these past few days, but you just look like a brat whose injuries haven't even healed."
Di Yao stopped on the stairs.
He neither bowed nor became angry.
He merely looked at Falling Devil Douluo, his tone calm.
"If you only wanted to inspect my injuries, I can leave now."
Falling Devil Douluo froze.
Then he broke into