The Destruction God King glanced at Fang Fan, then at Bibi Dong in his arms. A trace of relief crossed his violet eyes before he turned toward the purple-black passage.
"Boy, don't forget what I told you. I'm saving the First God King Throne for you.
"And take good care of your master.
"As for the Rakshasa Divine Position, you two can decide what to do."
"Of course, Master."
Fang Fan nodded slightly at his back and watched the purple-black passage slowly close.
The moment the Destruction God King vanished, the last trace of blood-colored mist in the Rakshasa Secret Realm dispersed. The shattered statue lay exposed in the pallid light, like a skeleton stripped of every disguise.
Fang Fan lowered his head and looked at Bibi Dong in his arms.
Her lashes fluttered, as though someone utterly exhausted had finally found a moment's peace.
He brushed the sweat-damp strands from her forehead, his touch so light and gentle it seemed he feared disturbing her dreams.
Her breath warmed his wrist, soft and steady, carrying a hint of that aloof, alluring fragrance he had caught earlier.
He suddenly remembered the day, many years ago, when she had stood before the Papal Palace and reached out her hand to him.
Back then, she had shielded him from the storms of the world. Now their roles had reversed.
Sometimes fate turned everything upside down overnight.
The woman in his arms had spent half her life trapped by hatred and evil thoughts. In the end, all she wanted was a night when she could sleep in peace.
Fang Fan tightened his hold to make her more comfortable, then sat down amid the shattered remains of the statue.
He knew that when she woke, she would once again be the indomitable Pope.
*But until