Inside the Hall of Douluo, the light gradually faded.
Qian Yanyan's eyes, blazing like molten lava, opened fully. His sharp brows drew together slightly, carrying a hint of confusion and bewilderment, as if he had only just woken up.
His gaze slowly swept over everyone present. Who were these people?!
Aside from Qian Wushuang and Qian Wuji, who were his own sons, he did not recognize a single one of the rest!
Who was that old man? He looked somewhat familiar, but Qian Yanyan could not remember at all. Did he know him?
And that person dressed in the Pope's robes—his eyes seemed to be avoiding him. Who was he?!
And... whose two little dolls were these, carved like jade, golden-haired with their eyes closed?!
Yet there was no need for anyone else to explain. Relying on the resonance that came from the depths of his bloodline, he already understood.
He already understood that all these unfamiliar faces standing before him were people who possessed the Six-Winged Angel bloodline.
"Something's not right..." Qian Yanyan's brows locked even tighter. He clearly remembered that he had already died?!
And it had been after he set down the heavy burden of being Pope, when he had exhausted the last trace of his origin inside Worship Hall and died a natural death.
Since he had already been dead through and through, how could he now be standing here, alive and well?!
Qian Yanyan subconsciously clenched his broad hand, and a burst of crisp bone cracks rang out like popping beans.
An incomparably abundant power instantly spread through every part of his body. To his surprise, he discovered that this body was not that decrepit, dying shell from before his death at all!
Instead, it had returned to the strongest, most invincible peak state of