Tenderness Hidden in Hatred, Resentment Mixed with Love

After Qian Lingche left, Bibi Dong climbed onto the balcony of the Pope Palace and stood there for a long time.

The night wind, carrying the chill from the direction of the Frost Snow Palace, swept past her gold-patterned cloak. She kept her gaze fixed on the faint, shimmering statue of the Six-Winged Angel atop the Worship Hall.

"Gui Mei."

Ghost Douluo emerged from the shadows and knelt on one knee. "Your Majesty."

"Have Lin Yuan report to Qian Lingche tomorrow." She stared toward the Worship Hall, her fingertips tapping a rhythmic beat against the railing. "There is no need to prepare her ninth soul ring."

Ghost Douluo bowed his head in acknowledgment, but his eyes widened sharply when he heard the second half of her sentence. "But Lin Yuan is stuck at level 89..."

"Isn't that Fifth Consecrator fellow following Qian Lingche?" Bibi Dong finally turned around, the beaded curtain hanging from her purple-gold crown swaying gently in the night breeze. "The two of them will have their own ways."

Ghost Douluo's Adam's apple bobbed twice, and he ultimately swallowed his questions.

As he rose, he noticed the force with which the Pope's left hand pressed against the railing was unnaturally heavy; the white jade surface had already cracked into several fine lines.

Not until Ghost Douluo had retreated did Bibi Dong release her grip on the railing.

Crumbled stone dust fell from between her fingers, drifting away into the distance with the night wind.

The morning Frost Snow Palace was shrouded in a thin mist. Qian Lingche and Guang Ling were sitting in the side hall, eating breakfast.

The white porridge on the wooden table was still steaming. Just as Guang Ling peeled a boiled egg, the sound of rhythmic footsteps suddenly echoed from outside the hall.

"Subordinate Lin Yuan, along with eleven colleagues from the Pope Palace, requests an audience with the Young Master."

The announcement caused Qian Lingche to set down his chopsticks. He turned his head to look at the person beside him.

Guang Ling crushed the eggshell into fragments and looked at Qian Lingche in confusion. "Did you make an appointment with people from the Pope Palace this morning?"

"No." Qian Lingche wiped the corners of his mouth with a silk handkerchief and raised his voice toward the door. "Come in."

The hall doors were pushed open by two guards, and Lin Yuan led her team across the threshold.

This level 89 Soul Douluo wore a dark red combat suit, followed by a Cardinal in red robes, and behind them were ten black-clad Soul Saints.

"Her Majesty the Pope issued an order last night." Lin Yuan knelt on one knee, presenting a document sealed with purple-gold wax with both hands. "She has commanded us to come and await the Young Master's orders."

Qian Lingche took the document and turned to find Guang Ling observing Lin Yuan and the Cardinal behind her.

"One at level 89, one at level 88?" Guang Ling suddenly asked.

"Yes." Lin Yuan remained in a kneeling position. "My martial soul is the Blazing Fire Spirit Kite. I am currently at the threshold and will soon break through to level 90."

Qian Lingche nodded, his gaze shifting calmly to the Cardinal behind the Spirit Kite. His tone was indifferent. "What is your name?"

The Cardinal stepped forward, knelt on one knee, and bowed to Qian Lingche. "Reporting to the Young Master, this subordinate is named Ji Lin. My martial soul is the Flowing Light Harp, level 88."

Qian Lingche gave a soft hum, his gaze lingering on him for a moment before sweeping over the ten people behind him.

"Are you certain you wish to follow me? I must warn you: by my side, I fear there will be no bright future to speak of."

As his words fell, Lin Yuan was the first to kneel on one knee, and Ji Lin and the ten black-clad Soul Saints followed suit in unison.

"This subordinate will never regret it!" the group shouted in one voice, their firm resolve echoing through the great hall.

Even if this Young Master was neglected, his Innate Soul Power of 20 and his god-level martial soul were more than enough to warrant their loyalty.

Qian Lingche watched this scene, a complex expression flashing in his eyes.

He was silent for a moment, then his tone softened slightly. "Since your minds are made up, then stay."

Lin Yuan looked up, her gaze resolute. "Rest assured, Young Master. This subordinate will never betray your trust."

After Lin Yuan and the others withdrew, the hall returned to silence.

Guang Ling and Qian Lingche sat back down at the dining table. The steam from the white porridge continued to rise in curls, but the atmosphere felt somewhat heavy.

Guang Ling hesitated for a moment, finally unable to hold back. "Xiao Che, what is this...?" His voice carried a hint of confusion and worry, his eyes fixed tightly on Qian Lingche.

Qian Lingche did not answer; he only lowered his head and stirred the porridge in his bowl with a spoon, his expression indifferent, as if everything that had just happened had nothing to do with him.

His movements were slow, the spoon creating slight ripples in the porridge, yet one could sense no emotional fluctuation at all.

Guang Ling watched his profile, feeling a faint sense of unease in his heart.

He had never seen Qian Lingche like this—clearly within arm's reach, yet seemingly as distant as the ends of the earth.

Those eyes, as beautiful as the stars, were terrifyingly calm at this moment, as if he had lost interest in everything, without even a single ripple of emotion.

"Xiao Che..." Guang Ling's voice dropped, as if he wanted to say something but did not know where to begin.

He opened his mouth, but ultimately just watched Qian Lingche in silence, waiting for a response.

Qian Lingche still did not look up, only giving a soft hum, his tone so flat that no emotion could be detected. "Brother Ling, let's eat. The porridge is getting cold."

Hearing this, Guang Ling's heart sank slightly.

He looked down at the boiled egg in his own bowl; the breakfast that had been delicious moments ago now tasted like nothing.

He picked up his chopsticks but hesitated to move, his gaze still lingering on Qian Lingche's face.

But Qian Lingche never looked up, simply drinking his porridge in silence, as if everything were unrelated to him.

The atmosphere in the hall grew increasingly stifling, as if the very air had frozen solid.

Guang Ling finally set down his chopsticks and let out a soft sigh. "Xiao Che, is something weighing on your mind? Tell me about it."

Qian Lingche's movements paused for a fleeting moment before he continued drinking his porridge, his tone remaining calm. "It's nothing, don't worry."

He couldn't understand it. If she didn't love him, why send people to take care of him? Was it out of duty...

Guang Ling watched his profile, a faint, bitter ache stirring in his heart.

Qian Lingche slowly turned his head, his gaze passing through the window to rest upon the towering Pope Palace in the distance.

"Mother... why must you be so heartless toward your own child? I truly... do not understand..."

The morning light spilled over the spires of the Pope Palace, the golden glazed tiles gleaming brilliantly under the sun, yet it could not brighten his mood.