Qian Daoliu knew everything Qian Xunji had done.
But he had not stopped him, because at the time, he too had believed that a Spirit Hall saintess should not become entangled with a worthless Soul Master.
He had been wrong.
Terribly wrong.
That incident had destroyed a genius girl's future and created the Pope of today, twisted within and filled with darkness.
But guilt was guilt, and a bottom line was a bottom line.
If Bibi Dong dared lay a hand on Florian, dared lay a hand on Bai Xue, dared lay a hand on Spirit Hall's very foundation...
Qian Daoliu opened his eyes, a sharp golden gleam flashing through them like a sword.
Then, even if he had to bear the charge of killing his own daughter-in-law, he would personally put an end to everything.
By the time Florian left the Worship Hall, the sun had already risen to the center of the sky.
Golden sunlight spilled across Spirit City's broad streets, coating the grand buildings in a dazzling sheen. Pedestrians thronged both sides of the road: ordinary citizens, Soul Masters dressed in all manner of clothing, as well as deacons and temple knights in Spirit Hall uniforms.
Everything appeared so peaceful, so orderly.
But Florian knew that beneath that calm lay an undercurrent of power struggles and conflicts that could erupt at any moment.
He walked slowly along the street, Qian Daoliu's words still echoing in his mind.
"You are my, Qian Daoliu's, disciple... From the moment you entered my sect, you have already been branded by the Worship Hall."
"Whether you wish it or not, you have already been drawn into this power struggle."
Florian let out a soft sigh.
He had truly never intended to involve himself in any power struggle. He had come to