So What If It's Rakshasa Divine Power? I'll Cut It Down with One Sword!

The elders listened to Golden Crocodile's analysis and nodded in agreement.

The boy had almost no obvious weaknesses. He had inherited his Martial Soul from his mother, whose own Martial Soul was merely the high-level Wind Sword.

The Wind Sword Sect had failed to produce a single Titled Douluo after all these years. Among the Lower Four Sects, its strength was only middling.

How had that Martial Soul become so formidable after mutating? In some ways, it seemed no weaker than the Six-Winged Angel Martial Soul passed down through Spirit Hall's Qian family. The only apparent difference was their Innate Soul Power.

The elders stood in midair, deep in animated discussion. They kept pointing down at the battle, analyzing how one strike should be delivered and another defended against. Whenever Qian Juechen revealed a new technique, they cheered and praised it, just like spectators watching a match at the Great Soul Arena.

Qian Daoliu, who had stood silently beside them, felt something stir within him as he listened.

He looked into the formation at Qian Juechen's ruthless, unsparing attacks. Then he thought of everything he had done over the years and fell into deep reflection.

The next generation truly has surpassed the last. Little Ji, you had two fine children. At the very least, your son is stronger than mine—far stronger.

Just then, a deafening boom drew Qian Daoliu's and the elders' gazes back into the formation.

Inside, Qian Juechen still hung high in the air, the North Wind Sword in his hand. More North Wind Swords appeared behind him—one, ten, a hundred, a thousand. They arranged themselves into a massive circular sword formation across the sky.

Qian Juechen's eyes were cold. He held two fingers together like a sword and slashed downward with all his strength.

The enormous formation behind him spun wildly, while violent North Wind energy raged around him.

Countless North Wind Swords turned toward the ruins of the Papal Palace and poured down. In an instant, the rain of blades covered every inch of space within the barrier.

Each sword carried wind elemental power at its limit and moved so fast it was almost impossible to follow with the naked eye. Sharp sonic booms rang out one after another, filling the vast battlefield.

Bibi Dong watched it all unfold. There was almost nowhere to run. The sword formation struck at her from every direction, leaving no blind spot.

Countless North Wind Swords flashed in and out of sight, slicing through her armor. Fragments peeled away from her body as searing pain struck and blood poured out.

She had fallen into a desperate position. At several critical moments, she even felt death closing in.

If Qian Juechen kept up his assault, it would not be long before Bibi Dong died amid that sea of swords.

The situation had reached its most dangerous point. She did not know whether Qian Juechen would truly kill her, but she refused to die at the hands of an eight-ring Soul Douluo. As Spirit Hall's youngest prodigy, its Pope, and the Rakshasa God's successor, she had her pride.

For the first time, an almost crazed look appeared in her eyes. She still had too much left to do.

She had yet to destroy Spirit Hall or become a god. She had not washed away her humiliation or made amends to Xiao Gang. There was so much she had not done. No matter what happened today, she could not die here.

"I will not lose!"

The Death Spider Emperor and Soul Devouring Spider Emperor made the beautiful woman hideous. She unleashed dark-purple slashes again and again, blocking the North Wind Swords that stabbed at her from the sea of blades.

A faint, strange power stirred within her. Bibi Dong remembered her past. As she looked at Qian Juechen's familiar face, memories she had never wished to revisit surged through her mind.

Guided by Rakshasa Divine Power, years of pent-up resentment roiled within her. Purple-black demonic power surged across her body. She let out a grief-stricken shriek, and a burst of power from nowhere shattered every North Wind Sword before her. Faint cracks even appeared in the Holy Light Isolation Formation.

High above, Qian Daoliu sensed that power and frowned. He immediately swept out his hand, sending a torrent of Angel Power down to mend the cracks in the Holy Light Isolation Formation and, to some extent, pin Bibi Dong in place.

Bibi Dong, I have never moved against you because you are Xue'er's mother. But if you dare use that Divine Power openly before my Papal Palace, do not blame me for showing no mercy. Soul Power began to surge through Qian Daoliu's body. He was ready to strike at any moment.

Inside the formation, Qian Juechen swung the Houtu Sword at the critical moment. An impenetrable web of sword energy appeared before him, shielding him from the impact of Rakshasa Divine Power.

"Ahahahahaha!" A strange, spine-chilling cackle followed.

Bibi Dong's eyes glowed red. More and more spider traits appeared on her body as the Death Spider Emperor and Soul Devouring Spider Emperor manifested further. Hideous spider legs extended from her back, and purple-black spider eyes covered her body.

"You forced me to do this! Why couldn't you have died out there? Why did you have to come back and oppose me? You're just like your father—an animal that deserves to go to hell!" Bibi Dong's voice was savage. She shrieked with laughter once more and lunged at Qian Juechen high above.

Qian Juechen's gaze sharpened as he watched Bibi Dong descend into madness. He knew she had run out of options. She had finally played her last card: the Rakshasa Divine Power hidden within her.

Before, Bibi Dong had retained some reason. Now she had fallen completely into madness. Her condition was far from good.

Others might not know it, but Bibi Dong herself understood that she had been driven into a corner. She had drawn upon Rakshasa Divine Power by force.

There was no denying that Rakshasa Divine Power was her trump card. At the most desperate moment, it could turn the tide and save her life.

But borrowing that power came at a price. She had not yet completed her Divine Trial, and forcing herself to use Rakshasa Divine Power would cost her dearly.

The Divine Power was not her own. Every time she called upon it by force, she prematurely spent power accumulated through the Rakshasa God Trial.

If she could end the fight quickly, the price might not be too great.

But the longer it dragged on, the worse things would become. It could even affect her future Rakshasa God Trial and her path to godhood.

Qian Juechen's overwhelming strength had left Bibi Dong no choice. She could only summon the phantom of half a Rakshasa Scythe for a short time and release a portion of divine-level power to force him into submission.

Even if she could not subdue him, she had to escape. Otherwise, Qian Daoliu would capture her, and she would never regain her freedom.

Qian Juechen looked at her repulsive form and shouted, "You dare dream of holding Spirit Hall's Pope's Position while looking so fallen, so hideous? Bibi Dong, your foolish dream ends today!"

The Light Sword appeared in his hand. With each swing, he sent another dazzling slash of light toward the woman below, who radiated a dense aura of corruption and Rakshasa Divine Power.

So what if the Rakshasa God is behind her? No matter who comes today, nothing will change. Whoever stands in my way, I'll cut them down with one sword.