Reforming Papal Hall

"Your Holiness, everyone has left. We should head back too."

"Poor Nana. After this battle, I'm afraid her confidence and pride have both been thoroughly crushed."

"Mm."

Only after the Soul Arena's spectators had nearly all dispersed

and she was certain no one could spy on her

did Bibi Dong slowly rise from her seat. At once, a stream of warmth flowed down her thigh.

A mysterious, crystalline fluid also dripped onto the chair.

She quietly wiped it away.

As she turned around,

a terrifying surge of Soul Power erupted from her palm, instantly blasting the chair apart.

Then she pointed at the jade chair on the Immortal Platform opposite, where Su Chen had just been sitting.

"Move that chair back for me."

Gui Mei and Yue Guan exchanged glances, completely bewildered.

Good heavens.

They truly understood His Holiness the Pope less and less.

She did not care about Nana and the others' victory, defeat, or safety.

Nor did she care about the position of Pope.

She had even destroyed her own chair, only to demand one someone else had sat on.

What was His Holiness the Pope trying to do?

Meanwhile,

the entrance and every passageway of the Soto Great Soul Arena were packed so tightly that not even water could pass through.

The crowd surged like a tide, stretching from the Soul Arena's gates all the way beyond three streets, with more people still arriving.

The reporters were squeezed until their clothes were in disarray, yet they still clutched their notebooks tightly to their chests.

Fans held up homemade banners and light signs, the two characters for "Immortal" traced in gold powder and glittering in the dusk.

"He's out! He's out!"

No one knew who shouted it, but the entire long street instantly erupted.

Dressed in white,