Xue Ye's Disdain, Ning Fengzhi's Analysis!

What Feng Bailong had said in the hall that day seemed to grow wings, spreading swiftly across the continent.

Within days, stories about the new Pope, Qian Juechen, had begun appearing in taverns and teahouses throughout the continent's major cities. He had become the subject of storytellers' newest legends.

"Have you heard? On the day the new Pope was born, ten thousand swords rang out in the Wind Sword Sect, their cries piercing the sky."

"That's nothing! I heard a river of sword energy appeared over Spirit City and lasted for hours. My uncle was doing business at Spirit Hall at the time. He saw it with his own eyes."

"And his martial soul? They say it isn't the angel martial soul passed down through Spirit Hall at all. It's a top-tier mutated sword martial soul inherited from the Wind Sword Sect. Supposedly, he received the Sword Immortal's legacy the moment he was born."

"No way. Seriously? The Sword Immortal's legacy?"

"Of course it's true! The Wind Sword Sect's sect master admitted it himself. Why would I lie to you?"

One increasingly absurd version after another spread like wildfire across the continent. As more people passed the stories along, they grew ever more legendary.

Whatever truth lay in those tales, and however many people cared, one thing was undeniable: Qian Juechen's name had become inseparable from the Sword Immortal, taking on an aura of legend throughout the continent.

The campaign to build his reputation had been a resounding success.

In the Heaven Dou Empire's palace, Xue Ye looked at the secret report an envoy had presented, then slammed it onto the table and cursed at its absurdity.

"A chorus of ten thousand swords? A galaxy of sword energy? Omens at his birth, travels across the continent after the age of six, and a return more than twenty years later to claim the Pope's Position?" Xue Ye snapped. "You actually believe that fairy tale?"

The more he spoke, the angrier he became. "Spirit Hall and that old man from the Wind Sword Sect obviously made it all up to build support for the new Pope!"

"He hasn't even held his succession ceremony, yet Spirit Hall already dares to make such a spectacle of him across the continent."

Xue Ye drummed his fingers against the desk before him, his eyes filled with wariness.

What exactly are they trying to do? Are they really planning to elevate the new Pope to godhood? Or do they have some other scheme in mind?

Xue Ye scoffed at Feng Bailong's claims.

Chosen by destiny? Omens at birth? Ten thousand swords paying homage?

They were all tired old tricks, little performances staged for the public.

If anyone was chosen by destiny, what about the Xue Family? When we united the Heaven Dou Empire and claimed the throne, our signs of destiny were far more legendary than yours.

According to the official records, when the Heaven Dou Xue Family first ascended the throne, an ancestor had found a Divine Stone inside a fish.

Six words had been carved upon it: "Heaven Dou rises, Xue reigns supreme."

The Divine Stone had been hailed as a heavenly blessing upon the Xue Family. It had won them considerable support and drawn many talented people to their cause.

But who could say how much of it had been true?

So-called destiny was nothing more than a little story the victors wrote for the world to read.

At that thought, Xue Ye snorted again. "Spirit Hall wants to use this trick to turn the new Pope into a Child of Destiny?"

"Then I shall see just how high they can build his pedestal!"

Yet while Xue Ye's anger still burned, a refined man in splendid robes gave a soft laugh from below the dais.

He held a jeweled scepter and wore a gentle expression, his manner unhurried. He was Ning Fengzhi, sect master of the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Sect, one of the Upper Three Sects.

Rather than rush to agree with Xue Ye, Ning Fengzhi waited until he had finished before speaking.

"Your Majesty, please be patient."

Only then did Xue Ye turn his gaze toward him.

"In my view, Spirit Hall's approach may not be entirely bad for us," Ning Fengzhi said with a smile.

Xue Ye frowned slightly.

"Oh? What do you mean, Sect Master Ning? Surely you don't believe this talk of destiny too?"

Ning Fengzhi shook his head with an amused smile.

"I wouldn't presume to say whether the claims of destiny are true or false."

"But look at it another way. The higher Spirit Hall raises this Pope, the better it may be for us."

Xue Ye's expression shifted. A glint flashed through Ning Fengzhi's eyes as he took two steps forward, his voice growing lower.

"What Spirit Hall is doing is simple: building support for the new Pope. They call the signs at his birth heavenly omens, his years of growth the trials of fate, and his return the fulfillment of destiny."

"They want the world to believe it all, and to accept their legitimacy. That will lay the groundwork for whatever this new Pope—or Spirit Hall itself—does next."

Ning Fengzhi narrowed his eyes, the corners of his mouth lifting. "But has Your Majesty considered the greatest weakness of a pedestal?"

Xue Ye did not answer, so Ning Fengzhi supplied the answer himself.

"The higher one stands, the harder one falls."

"Under the late Pope Qian Xunji, Spirit Hall made countless enemies across the continent. The most famous were the Clear Sky Sect and its Clear Sky Douluo, Tang Hao."

"Many other powers across the continent also bear Spirit Hall blood feuds that can never be settled."

"Spirit Hall has hunted and oppressed them for years. They have not dared make a move, forced to swallow their anger in silence."

Ning Fengzhi raised his head and met Xue Ye's gaze.

"But the new Pope is about to hold his succession ceremony, and powers from across the world have been invited."

"It is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity."

Xue Ye narrowed his eyes as well. He understood what Ning Fengzhi meant.

Ning Fengzhi, however, went on.

"They will come. And I believe most of them will not come merely to congratulate the new Pope. They will bring their old grudges with them. Some may even test the young Pope at the ceremony to see what he is truly capable of."

He stopped there. He did not need to say more; everyone understood the rest.

Spirit Hall had already placed Qian Juechen on a pedestal. When the time came, he would have nowhere to retreat.

If someone provoked him, he would have to respond. If someone challenged him, he would have to fight.

If he refused, what would the world think? The extraordinary story Spirit Hall had worked so hard to build around him would suffer for it.

But if he fought, he would give the world its chance to see him clearly.

Feng Bailong could tell the story as vividly as he liked. The rumors could make Qian Juechen sound almost divine.

In the end, it would all come down to one thing: his strength.

If Qian Juechen truly was as powerful as the rumors claimed, the succession ceremony would add to his legend and become the stage on which he awed the world. They would then have to change their attitude and policies toward Spirit Hall.

But if he fell short—or worse, suffered humiliation at the hands of his challengers—

Then the pedestal Spirit Hall had built for him would become the stone that crushed him, and his fall would shatter him.

Most importantly, they would not need to lift a finger. They only had to watch it happen.

Xue Ye and Ning Fengzhi met each other's eyes. Without another word, they knew they understood each other, and they shared a smile.

All that remained was to await that day. Heroes from across the world would gather, old grudges would mingle with new, and the mysterious young Pope would face the eyes of the world for the first time.

Would he be crowned atop that pedestal, or would it crumble beneath him? The answer would soon be clear.