Chapter 18: Did he get hammered?
The living room fell back into an eerie silence.
Jiang Bai digested this earth-shattering information, the shock in his heart beyond measure.
How was this still the number one support Tool Spirit in the world?
This was clearly... a Divine Artifact for raising Spirit Beasts with infinite growth potential!
It’s just... he didn’t know how it had mutated...
Meanwhile, the Fire Dragon completely froze in place.
The first three pieces of information, beyond shocking it, even gave it a glimmer of hope for an alternative kind of ’eternal life’ and ’growth’.
But that final underlying rule was like the coldest of shackles, completely crushing its last vestiges of anger, resentment, and hope for revenge.
Serve him as master... unable to harm... absolute loyalty...
It was a proud Fire Dragon possessing a true Dragon Bloodline! How could it...
However, that crystal clear, unshakable mark deep within its Soul reminded it of this cruel reality every second.
The ’Master’ that had slipped out of its mouth earlier, and its attack being forcibly twisted into a possession, were ironclad proof.
It raised its head, its narrowed dragon pupils looking toward Jiang Bai with immense complexity.
Jiang Bai looked back at it, his gaze gradually shifting from initial shock and ecstasy to a calm and profound stillness.
They stared at each other for a long time.
Ultimately, the Fire Dragon seemed to have exhausted all its Spirit. It gave Jiang Bai one last deep, deep look, its expression unreadable.
Then, it spoke no more, and with a single thought...
"Whoosh—"
A flash of red light flickered as it voluntarily turned into a crimson beam, flying back into the first floor of the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Pagoda in Jiang Bai’s palm.
Jiang Bai withdrew his Spirit.
He looked around, seeing neither Qian Renxue nor the attendants.
Adjusting his breathing and expression, Jiang Bai pushed open the heavy wooden door of the villa and walked out.
Outside, an attendant immediately stepped forward, bowing slightly with a tone that was respectful yet maintained a professional distance.
"Young Master Jiang, you are awake. The Young Lord instructed that if you have finished absorbing your spirit ring, you should return to the dormitory to rest. Due to urgent matters, the Young Lord has already returned to Spirit City."
Urgent matters? Returned to Spirit City?
Jiang Bai’s heart stirred.
Did Qian Xunji... get hammered?
But his face showed no sign of anything unusual. He simply nodded to the attendant and said in a calm tone, "I understand. Thank you for informing me."
With that, he lingered no longer and walked toward the dormitory area along the shaded path he had come from.
...
Jiang Bai had actually guessed correctly.
At this moment, deep within the Supreme Pontiff Palace in Spirit City, inside the Supreme Pontiff’s private chambers, the atmosphere was heavy.
Under the massive dome, the usually majestic and noble Supreme Pontiff, Qian Xunji, lay on her bed with a face full of defeat.
His eyes were tightly shut, his brow furrowed, his lips pale and cracked. His breathing was weak and erratic; he was clearly severely injured.
Beside the bed, several of Spirit Hall’s top-tier healing Spirit Masters were busy and drenched in sweat, as soft yet powerful healing Spirit light continuously cascaded down.
They were stabilizing his rapidly fading vitality and repairing his heavily damaged Meridians and internal organs.
To one side of the chamber, several figures stood solemnly.
The leader was none other than High Priest Qian Daoliu.
He was still dressed in a simple white robe, standing with his hands behind his back, his posture as upright as a mountain pine.
But on that handsome and majestic face, a layer of thick frost now hung. His deep eyes gazed at his son on the bed; in the depths of his pupils, a storm seemed to be brewing, yet it was being held down by extreme rationality.
Half a step behind him stood several core Elders of Spirit Hall, including Chrysanthemum Douluo Yue Guan and Ghost Douluo Gui Mei.
At this moment, even the usually flamboyant and composed Yue Guan was pale with sweat on his forehead. His posture was respectful to the point of being humble as he reported to Qian Daoliu in a low voice, his tone carrying an imperceptible tremble.
"High Priest... your subordinates have failed in our duty. Even death cannot atone for our crime... We... we did not expect that hundred-thousand-year Spirit Beast to be so decisive... preferring to choose Sacrifice rather than let us have her..."
Yue Guan’s voice was filled with regret and fear. "The energy explosion and Soul shock triggered by that Sacrifice completely exceeded our estimates..."
He paused, swallowed, and then continued, his tone carrying an even deeper sense of shock.
"Moreover... that Tang Hao... he had clearly just made a Breakthrough to level ninety, and his state should have been unstable... but under the stimulus of that Spirit Beast’s Sacrifice, the aura and combat power he unleashed... were simply inconceivable!"
"That power far exceeded an ordinary Titled Douluo... Even with us working together, we could hardly block him completely..."
Yue Guan’s voice grew lower and lower, his head bowing deeper.
He knew that the responsibility for the failure of this operation, and especially the heavy injury of Supreme Pontiff Qian Xunji, was far too great.
Ghost Douluo Gui Mei was shrouded in the shadows of his black robe, remaining silent, but the cold aura around him also showed his inner turmoil.
Qian Daoliu listened quietly without interrupting or showing any emotion.
Tang Hao... Clear Sky Sect... hundred-thousand-year Spirit Beast Sacrifice... His fingers tightened slightly within his sleeves.
"Papa... sob..."
A sobbing, childish, and sorrowful cry broke the heavy silence within the chamber.
Qian Renxue’s small body was sprawled by the bedside, her hands tightly clutching Qian Xunji’s hand.
Her fair little face was covered in tear stains, and her large eyes were filled with tears that rolled down one by one, splashing onto the back of Qian Xunji’s hand.
She bit her lip, trying hard not to make a sound, but her sobbing shoulders and red eyes betrayed her inner fear and helplessness.
She didn’t understand what had happened; she only knew that her powerful father had suddenly been seriously injured and was unconscious, his breath so weak it terrified her.
Those Elders who were usually high and mighty and awe-inspiring were all as silent as cicadas in winter right now.
She could only hold her father’s hand tightly, as if by doing so she could hold onto him and not let him leave.
Her small heart was filled with fear of the unknown and worry for her father’s injuries, as well as an indescribable, nascent hatred for the ’enemy’ who had caused all this.
...
At the same time, in a secret room beneath the Supreme Pontiff Palace.
Several lamps embedded in the walls emitted a faint, eerie glow.
Inside the secret room stood a wide dressing table, its mirror polished smooth, its edges carved with intricate patterns.
Before the mirror sat a graceful figure.
Bibi Dong.
She was loosely draped in a layer of nearly transparent gauze. Her smooth long hair fell like a waterfall, partially veiling her radiant back, which only served to emphasize her snow-white skin, glowing with an ivory-like delicacy under the dim light.
Her eyebrows were like distant mountains, her eyes like autumn waters, her nose bridge straight, and her lips a vivid red.
She was facing the mirror, holding a tube of bright red lip rouge, applying it to her already full and alluring lips with slow, meticulous movements.
She gazed intently at herself in the mirror.
Deep within those eyes, a strange, bewitching purple light flashed and vanished, adding a touch of eeriness and demonic charm to her exquisite face.
"Xiaogang..."
She parted her lips slightly, her voice low and ethereal, like a lover’s murmur or a whisper from a nightmare.
In the mirror, the corner of her mouth curled into a gentle arc, as if she were seeing that refined yet somewhat cowardly figure from her memories.
She was fantasizing about the scene of reuniting with Yu Xiaogang, imagining a beautiful future with just the two of them, free from all this filth and tyranny.
However, this gentleness lasted only for a brief moment.
"Wait for me..."
Before her voice even faded, her hand holding the lip rouge suddenly tightened uncontrollably!
"Snap!"
That delicate tube of lip rouge was actually snapped in half by her brute force!
The bright red paste stained her fair fingers.
Bibi Dong seemed not to notice.
She didn’t even look at the broken rouge or her stained fingers; her gaze remained locked onto herself in the mirror.
The purple light in her eyes surged again, the gentleness fading to be replaced by a complex expression mixed with madness, hatred, spite, and a hint of twisted delight.
Her gaze slowly shifted, turning toward a spot not far from the dressing table.
There, a small red clay stove burned quietly, its fire steady, with a ceramic medicine pot resting on top.
Steam rose slightly from the pot’s mouth, and an indescribable, faint medicinal fragrance—a blend of various herbs—permeated the secret room.
This fragrance wasn’t unpleasant; it even carried a strange sweet-bitterness.
But in this time and place, combined with Bibi Dong’s expression, he inexplicably sent a chill down one’s spine.
This was the ’medicinal soup’ she had ’meticulously’ brewed for her bedridden, seriously injured teacher.
Watching the curling steam and the dark brown liquid bubbling slightly in the pot.
The curve of Bibi Dong’s lips gradually widened, finally forming a crystal clear yet hair-raising, sickly smile.