No one knew how much time had passed.
In this space utterly submerged in golden light, time had become a hazy concept, and every sensation had been compressed until only the power surging through Qian Renxue remained.
Then a voice rang out from every direction at once.
The voice belonged to no particular direction. It came from the vaulted ceiling, from the stone pillars, from the Angel God Statue, from the longsword in her hand—it came from everywhere, and from within her.
"The—angel—descends."
Qian Renxue's body was being remade.
She could feel her bones being reconstructed from something stronger and lighter.
Her meridians were widened, reinforced, and coated in flowing golden patterns.
Something in her blood was being replaced by another existence, purer and more ancient.
Behind Qian Renxue, six golden wings slowly unfurled from her shoulder blades.
Every feather shimmered with a sacred golden glow, forming rings of light that spread outward around her.
Qian Renxue stood there, holding the golden longsword that had now been fully illuminated.
The light of the Angel Temple, slowly settling back into stillness, was reflected in her pure gold eyes.
At that moment, the Angel God's divine seat descended upon her in its entirety.
And Qian Daoliu was gone.
The Pope Palace.
Bibi Dong shot to her feet from the throne. She moved so quickly that her papal robes gave a muffled rustle as they scraped through the air.
She had not even realized she was standing. It was as though something had abruptly yanked her whole body upward, and her gaze shot straight toward the Worship Hall.
That power.
That power spreading outward in every direction from the depths of the Worship Hall carried something she had never sensed before...
No, she had sensed it before.
When the phenomenon of ascension