Rakshasa God: This Woman Is Destined for Me

At the thought, the corner of Bibi Dong's mouth lifted involuntarily, then quickly pressed flat again.

She couldn't soften just because of a dream. That little brat was living it up in Heaven Dou City, surrounded by women, so happy he'd forgotten all about Bibi. Meanwhile, she was here, so furious she even dreamed about smacking his bottom. However she tallied it, she was the one getting the short end of the stick.

Bibi Dong drew a deep breath, swung her legs off the bed, and went to the table. She picked up the intelligence report, flipped to the latest page, and wrote a few words.

"Continue surveillance. Report daily."

She tossed the report back onto the table, picked up the long blade leaning against the head of her bed, and went out the door.

The sky over Slaughter City was as gloomy as ever, the air thick with the eternal stench of sulfur and blood.

When the Fallen Soul Masters on the street saw the white figure emerge from the house, they shrank into the alleys on either side in perfect unison, as if they'd rehearsed it.

The bodies she'd left behind after hacking her way through the streets yesterday had already been cleared away, but the blood in the cracks between the paving stones had yet to dry. Beneath the dark red sky, it glistened with a sticky sheen.

Bibi Dong stood at the door with her blade in hand, her cold gaze sweeping across the deserted street. The chill of her blade gleamed against the blood-red sky.

That nameless fire in her heart flared up again.

She remembered Liu Erlong kissing Deng Tianxin, and how obedient he'd been afterward.

When Deng Tianxin was with her, he'd wail for ages if she pinched his cheek. So why was he so obedient with Liu Erlong?

And then there was Tang Yuehua. That woman fed him pastries by day and kept him company at night, treating her disciple like some rare treasure.

Today, she was going to cut down an entire street.

At the thought, Bibi Dong tightened her grip on the hilt and strode deeper into the street.

Until she cleared Slaughter City, that little brat had better behave himself. She didn't want to see anything else in the reports about Liu Erlong kissing his forehead or Tang Yuehua feeding him pastries. Otherwise, when she got out, she'd settle old and new scores all at once. He wouldn't have a single patch of unbruised skin left on his backside.

At the street corner, she spotted a Fallen Soul Master packing his belongings to flee. The moment he met her gaze, his face turned deathly pale. His bundle fell to the ground, spilling everything inside across the street.

"Saintess... Saintess, I swear I wasn't watching you yesterday! I stayed inside and slept the whole time. I didn't see a thing—"

Bibi Dong said nothing. She only slowly raised her long blade.

The blade flashed beneath the gloomy sky. Bibi Dong flicked the blood from its edge and continued forward without changing expression.

The slaughter had only just begun.

The Divine Realm, Rakshasa God's temple.

"Hm? Where did all this negative emotion come from?"

Rakshasa God lounged against the Ink Crystal Throne, one finger lazily winding a lock of purple-black hair. Suddenly, her hand stopped, and she opened her demonic reddish-purple eyes.

She sat up straight. The ink-purple mist curling through the temple surged with her, and countless faint whispers rose from its depths.

They were the resentment, jealousy, and hatred of the beings in the lower realm—the source of the power that sustained her.

Yet now, an exceptionally intense surge rippled through that ocean of negative emotion, like someone had splashed a basin of boiling blood in some distant corner.

She followed the surge to its source. Her reddish-purple gaze pierced layer after layer of the Divine Realm's barriers, settling on a cursed corner of the Douluo Continent.

Slaughter City.

Then she saw a woman in red, carrying a long blade and cutting down Fallen Soul Masters.

Bibi Dong swept her blade sideways. The heads of three Fallen Soul Masters flew into the air at once.

She didn't even blink. After flicking the blood from her blade, she continued onward, leaving behind only sprawled corpses and blood winding across the stone road.

Rakshasa God blinked once, then again. Then she smiled.

It wasn't her usual lofty, icy smirk. It was the delighted smile of someone who'd just found a treasure.

She had lived for who knew how many years and seen all kinds of people, but this woman was absolutely to her taste.

That nearly obsessive calm, that madness repressed to its utmost limit, that grudge-holding streak that had her muttering about settling old and new scores even after she'd hacked her blade blunt—it was as if she'd been tailor-made to inherit Rakshasa God's legacy.

Seeing this, Rakshasa God declared, "This woman is destined for me. She can undertake my God Trial."

She was extremely particular about whom she chose. The candidate had to be talented and suit her tastes.

Now that she'd encountered Bibi Dong, Rakshasa God was utterly satisfied.

"How interesting." Rakshasa God shifted her pose, resting her chin in one hand as she watched with keen interest. "Let's see what's got you worked up like this."

Reddish-purple light swirled at her fingertips, gathering into a hazy mirror.

But reflected in the mirror wasn't Bibi Dong. It showed the source of the resentment her divine sense had tracked.

A lavishly furnished hall, with flickering candlelight and the lilting strains of music.

The long table was laden with delicacies. In the seat of honor sat a boy who looked about ten, with a pair of smooth, rounded dragon horns on his head. He had a woman on either side of him and was enjoying himself immensely.

On his left, a girl in a dark red outfit was feeding him shrimp dumplings. On his right, an elegant woman was wiping the grease from the corner of his mouth. A whole circle of women surrounded them, some peeling grapes, others pouring wine.

"Now this is the life..." The boy chewed with bulging cheeks and sighed indistinctly.

Rakshasa God fell silent for a moment, then burst out laughing. The Ink Crystal Throne trembled faintly beneath her.

She understood now. That resentment so vast it had caught even her attention came from a seven- or eight-year-old brat out there surrounded by women, making a woman furious enough to go on a killing spree in Slaughter City.

This was just too entertaining.

When she'd laughed her fill, Rakshasa God wiped at the nonexistent tears in the corners of her eyes, then turned her gaze back to the hazy mirror.

In the mirror, two women were pinching the little boy's cheeks at the same time. His chubby face was stretched out of shape, and his tiny hands flailed in the air, unable to hit either of them.

His pitiful, ridiculous expression sent Rakshasa God's laughter surging back up. Her shoulders shook twice.

She had lived for who knew how many years. What great storms had she not weathered in the Divine Realm?

Yet this scene before her was something entirely new, unlike anything she'd seen in all her long years.

A woman from the lower realm had hacked her way through three whole streets of Slaughter City because another woman had fed a seven- or eight-year-old boy a few shrimp dumplings and pinched his cheeks a couple of times.

This was far more interesting than the dull Divine Realm.

Bibi Dong's resentment was fresh, pure, and fierce, like a blade just pulled from a sea of blood, still steaming with heat.

To be jealous over a little boy to this extent was the most imaginative source of resentment she'd ever encountered.

The more Rakshasa God thought about it, the more fascinating it seemed. She was determined to claim this inheritor. Anyone who tried to take her away would have to answer to her.