The north wind bit hard, stirring frost in its wake.
After nearly five years, Lin Qian finally returned to Spirit Hall to face reality.
With the New Year approaching, every household put up lanterns and festive decorations, hoping to celebrate a thriving New Year and looking forward to a beautiful tomorrow.
Even Spirit City, filled with Soul Masters, was no exception. Lanterns lined the streets, looking like a river of stars stretching straight toward the sacred ground of Soul Masters above-
The Papal Palace.
Or, one could also say, Douluo Hall.
From the idle chatter of Spirit Hall insiders, the Worship Hall had clearly been restless in recent years. Whether deliberately or not, it seemed intent on making its presence felt, always pointing fingers whenever the Pope issued an order. For instance, during a routine Elder Hall meeting, it would suddenly send a Worshipper to hold forth on affairs of state, who would then stroll away at leisure before everyone's eyes.
Did you think that was the end of it?
No, no, no. At the very next meeting, a Worshipper would return to reenact the classic performance all over again (an endless nesting doll).
Even Spirit Hall's senior ranks were baffled by such news, unable to understand what the Worship Hall was playing at. But Lin Qian, the illustrious first in line to succeed the Pope, heir to the art of undercover work, and Eighth Worshipper, knew far more than the average senior official.
With his enhancements, Qian Renxue's strength had risen without limit. At the very least, she was already a Titled Douluo, qualified to lock wrists with Bibi Dong. This inevitably set Qian Daoliu dreaming of the day his granddaughter reclaimed Spirit Hall and kicked out a certain acting leader.
And the first step in this seizure of