Rakshasa God: This Woman Has a Connection With Me

Bibi Dong thought of this, the corners of her mouth curling up involuntarily before she quickly pressed them into a straight line.

She could not let herself go soft because of a dream. That little bastard was currently living it up in Heaven Dou City, surrounded by beauties and Happy and Forgetting Bibi, while she was here so furious that she was spanking him even in her sleep. No matter how she calculated it, she was the one losing out.

Bibi Dong took a deep breath, rolled out of bed, walked to the table, picked up the intelligence booklet, flipped to the latest page, and picked up a pen to write a few words.

"Continue surveillance, report daily."

She tossed the booklet back onto the table, grabbed the long blade leaning against the head of the bed, and pushed the door open to walk out.

The sky of Slaughter City was as gloomy as ever, the air permeated with the eternal scent of sulfur and blood.

The fallen ones on the street saw that white figure emerge from the house from afar and scrambled into the alleys on both sides, their movements so uniform it was as if they had rehearsed.

The corpses she had left behind during her rampage yesterday had already been cleared away, but the blood in the cracks of the stone slabs had not yet dried, shimmering with a sticky luster under the dark red sky.

Bibi Dong stood at the doorway with her blade, her gaze sweeping coldly over the empty street; the cold light on the blade and the blood-colored sky reflected off one another.

The nameless fire in her heart flared up again.

She remembered Liu Erlong kissing Deng Tianxin, and how obedient he was after that kiss.

Yet when Deng Tianxin was in front of her, he would howl for ages if she so much as pinched his cheek. How could he be so docile with Liu Erlong?

And then there was Tang Yuehua—that woman fed him pastries by day and slept with him by night, treating her disciple like some rare treasure to be pampered.

She was going to slaughter an entire street today.

Thinking of this, Bibi Dong tightened her grip on the hilt and strode toward the depths of the street.

Before she cleared Slaughter City, that little bastard had better behave himself. She didn't want to see any more reports about Liu Erlong kissing his forehead or Tang Yuehua feeding him pastries. Otherwise, when she got out, she would settle all their debts—old and new—at once, and he wouldn't have a single patch of unbruised skin left on his backside.

She reached a street corner and saw a fallen spirit master packing his bags, preparing to flee. When the latter met her gaze, his face turned deathly pale, his bundle dropped to the ground, and its contents scattered everywhere.

"Saintess... Saintess," the man stammered, backing away. "I definitely wasn't watching you yesterday. I was sleeping in my room the whole time, I don't know anything—"

Bibi Dong didn't speak; she simply raised her long blade slowly.

The blade's light flashed and vanished under the gloomy sky. Bibi Dong flicked the blood droplets off the edge and continued walking forward, expressionless.

Today's slaughter had only just begun.

God Realm, Temple of the Rakshasa God.

"Hmm? Where is such intense negative emotion coming from?"

The Rakshasa God leaned back against the Ink Crystal Throne, her fingertips lazily twirling a strand of purplish-black hair. Suddenly, her movements paused, and she opened those bewitching, violet-red eyes.

She straightened up, and the ink-purple mist swirling in the temple surged along with her, countless faint whispers emerging from the depths of the fog.

That was the resentment, jealousy, and hatred of the living beings in the lower realms—the source of power she relied upon to grow strong.

But at this moment, a surge of extremely intense fluctuation rose from this ocean of negative emotions, as if someone had splashed a basin of boiling blood in some corner.

She traced the source of the fluctuation, her violet-red gaze piercing through the layers of the God Realm's barriers and landing on a cursed corner of the Douluo Continent.

Slaughter City.

And then she saw the woman in red, wielding a long blade and killing among a group of the fallen.

Bibi Dong slashed horizontally, and the heads of three fallen spirit masters flew into the air simultaneously.

She didn't even blink; she flicked the blood from her blade and continued walking, leaving behind nothing but scattered corpses and blood winding along the stone path.

The Rakshasa God blinked, then blinked again, and then she laughed.

It wasn't the usual cold, high-and-mighty sneer, but a joyful smile, as if she had stumbled upon a treasure.

She had lived for who knows how many years and had seen all sorts of things, but this woman before her was truly to her taste.

That near-paranoid calmness, that suppressed, extreme madness, and that vengeful spirit—hacking people until her blade was notched while still muttering about settling old and new debts—it was as if she were a successor tailor-made for her.

Seeing this, the Rakshasa God remarked, "This woman has an affinity with me; she can accept my divine trial."

Her requirements for choosing someone were high; they needed both high talent and to be to her liking.

Now that she had encountered Bibi Dong, the Rakshasa God was immensely satisfied.

"Interesting," the Rakshasa God changed her posture, resting her chin on one hand, and continued to watch with great interest. "Let This Seat see what exactly has caused you to be so stifled."

Violet-red light swirled at her fingertips, condensing into an illusory mirror.

What was reflected in the mirror was not Bibi Dong's figure, but the root of the resentment her divine sense had tracked.

It was a lavishly decorated hall where candles flickered and music played softly.

The long table was filled with delicacies, and at the head of the table sat a boy of about ten years old with rounded dragon horns on his head, surrounded by beauties, looking incredibly happy.

On his left, a young girl in dark red tight-fitting clothes was feeding him shrimp dumplings, and on his right, a woman with an elegant temperament was wiping the oil from the corner of his mouth. A circle of beauties surrounded them, some peeling grapes, others pouring wine.

"This is what you call life..." the boy chewed with his cheeks puffed out, sighing vaguely.

The Rakshasa God was silent for a moment, then burst into laughter, her mirth causing the Ink Crystal Throne to tremble slightly.

She finally understood. After all that, the source of the monstrous resentment that had even caught her attention was actually this seven- or eight-year-old brat living it up outside, causing her to go on a killing spree in Slaughter City.

This was truly too amusing.

The Rakshasa God finished her laughter, wiped a non-existent tear from the corner of her eye with a fingertip, and cast her gaze back toward the illusory mirror.

Inside the mirror, a little boy was having his cheeks pinched by two women simultaneously. His chubby face was pulled out of shape, and his short arms flailed in the air, unable to strike either of them.

That pitiful yet comical sight made the laughter the Rakshasa God had just suppressed surge up once more, causing her shoulders to tremble.

She had lived for who knew how many years, and there was no storm or upheaval in the God Realm she hadn't witnessed.

Yet, the scene before her was a novelty she had never encountered in her long, long life.

A woman from the lower realm had slaughtered her way through three entire streets of Slaughter City just because a seven or eight-year-old boy had been fed a few shrimp dumplings and had his cheeks pinched by another woman.

This was far more interesting than the boring God Realm.

This resentment from Bibi Dong was fresh, pure, and ferocious, like a blade just pulled from a sea of blood, still radiating intense heat.

To be driven to such lengths of jealousy over a little boy was simply the most creative source of resentment she had ever seen.

The more the Rakshasa God thought about it, the more interesting it became. She was determined to have this successor, and she would fight anyone who dared to compete with her for her.