398. Vile Woman

Inside the Pope’s Hall, the noise from outside was completely muffled.

Bibi Dong turned her gaze to the figure beside her, her face soft with a gentle smile.

Qian Renjue had exceeded her expectations, achieving a stunning victory. She wrapped her arm around his.

“Jue, well done.”

“I didn’t realize my precious son had grown this strong.”

Qian Renjue lightly clasped her hand and gestured for her to sit on the throne.

“I still have a long way to go. I’m not even close to catching up with you, Mom.”

“Hmph! You’re still so young, and you already think you can surpass me?”

Bibi Dong snorted softly, giving him a playful glare as she patted the seat beside her.

“Come, sit here.”

“Alright.”

Qian Renjue nodded slightly, taking the seat next to her, allowing her slender hands to pinch his cheeks.

“No matter how strong you are, you’re still my child.”

“As long as you know that.”

Bibi Dong smiled lightly, her gaze lingering on his handsome face as her red lips moved as if she wanted to say something but hesitated.

Leaning gently on Qian Renjue’s shoulder, she appeared thoughtful. She knew directly questioning him might not yield clear answers.

Tap, tap.

The sound of soft footsteps echoed through the spacious hall, accompanied by shifting light and shadows.

At the side entrance, Chrysanthemum Douluo stood without stepping fully inside. His respectful voice broke the silence.

“Your Majesty, the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Clan’s young princess requests to meet the Holy Son.”

Bibi Dong lifted her head slightly, her nose brushing against Qian Renjue’s cheek.

Her warm breath carried a delicate fragrance as her noble voice filled the hall.

“Jue, it seems you need to spend some time with your little fiancée.”

Qian Renjue felt a slight tickle and tilted his head, issuing instructions toward the door.

“Elder Chrysanthemum, let her wait for me in the side hall for a moment.”

“As you wish.”

Chrysanthemum Douluo immediately complied. His shadow faded as his retreating footsteps grew distant.

“Mom…”

Qian Renjue turned to Bibi Dong, seeking her permission.

“Go ahead. That girl is quite perceptive; treat her kindly,” Bibi Dong advised warmly, her slender hands carefully adjusting his robes.

“Understood, I will.”

Qian Renjue smiled. As long as Ning Rongrong wasn’t overly willful, he was happy to oblige.

With a light blush gracing his cheek, Qian Renjue stood up and walked toward the hall’s exit.

Bibi Dong pressed her slightly warm lips together, watching his retreating figure with reluctant eyes before her expression cooled.

Her pale earlobes trembled subtly as she confirmed that Qian Renjue had left the hall.

Her thin lips parted, her tone sharp and tinged with bitterness:

“Ghost!”

The chilling voice echoed within the Pope’s Hall.

A shadowy figure emerged, and Ghost Douluo appeared at the bottom of the stairs, his expression grave as he bowed deeply, not daring to show the slightest disrespect.

He couldn’t recall the last time the Pope had exuded such an eerie and oppressive aura.

Ghost Douluo had his suspicions. The person responsible for triggering this reaction was likely someone from the plaza earlier.

“Go! Summon Ling Yuan to see me,” Bibi Dong ordered coldly, her face dark.

Unless she got to the bottom of this, she wouldn’t be able to rest.

“That wretched woman! Why won’t she stay dead?! How dare she set her sights on my son? It’s a death wish!”

“Yes, Your Majesty. I will see to it immediately,” Ghost Douluo replied before vanishing into the shadows.

Bibi Dong pinched the bridge of her nose, her thoughts in turmoil.

It seemed Qian Renjue recognized that wretched woman, a realization that left her deeply unsettled.

She didn’t want to put Jue in a difficult position, but as for her—

That vile woman wasn’t worthy!


————————————

Side Hall of the Pope's Hall

Sword Douluo had already taken off his red robe signifying his Title Douluo status.

The large gemstone that Ning Rongrong had been playing with was also reclaimed, as he sat with Ning Fengzhi at the table, drinking hot tea.

Meanwhile, Ning Rongrong stood at the door, eagerly gazing out like a devoted wife awaiting her husband’s return.

“Rongrong, come sit and have some tea,” Ning Fengzhi called, his face clouded with frustration as he observed his beloved daughter seemingly disregarding her family.

Would this little treasure of his give away the entire Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Clan?

Ning Fengzhi truly felt a bit afraid.

“Rongrong isn’t thirsty. I’ll wait for Brother Holy Son to come and feed me,” Ning Rongrong said, squatting down and propping her chin on her hands, staring intently in the direction of the main hall.

“…”

Ning Fengzhi could only shake his head helplessly, his heart filled with unease.

Sword Douluo silently sipped his tea. He and Bone Douluo had long accepted their roles as substitutes for the little princess whenever she got bored.

However, Sword Douluo wasn’t thinking about that now. Instead, he voiced a concern:

“Fengzhi, is the Holy Son’s martial soul truly the Six-Winged Angel?”

“Hm?”

Ning Fengzhi blinked in surprise, refocusing his attention.

“Why do you ask, Uncle Sword?”

Sword Douluo’s expression grew serious as he explained slowly:

“The Six-Winged Angel martial soul doesn’t seem to have wind, lightning, or spatial attributes, does it?”

“This…”

Ning Fengzhi frowned deeply, realizing the implication.

He had studied martial souls extensively and quickly understood the potential issues.

If those were just added attributes from spirit rings, the Holy Son’s strength seemed overwhelming.

If they came from spirit bones, both he and Sword Douluo should have detected the unique fluctuations of spirit bones.

Ning Fengzhi chuckled wryly.

“Uncle Sword, you’ve truly stumped me with this question.”

“Brother Holy Son is here!”

Before they could discuss further, Ning Rongrong’s clear, excited voice rang out from the doorway.

Both men looked up to see the little princess sprinting back and forth, carefully holding the cup of tea Ning Fengzhi had poured for her.

Amid their puzzled gazes, Ning Rongrong darted to the door and then back.

A golden figure arrived as expected, his smile more genuine and approachable than Ning Fengzhi’s.

“Brother Holy Son!”

The moment Qian Renjue stepped into the hall, Ning Rongrong ran toward him, her face filled with joy and admiration, holding the tea cup like a prized offering.

“Rongrong.”

Qian Renjue smiled warmly, calling her name.

Ning Rongrong nodded enthusiastically, as if greeting a husband returning from a journey.

She raised her head with a beaming smile and diligently offered the tea.

“Brother Holy Son, drink the tea! Rongrong has already cooled it for you.”

“…”

Hearing this, the tea in Ning Fengzhi’s mouth suddenly tasted bitter, and his face darkened.

What had Rongrong said earlier? That she’d wait for Qian Renjue to feed her?!

But now, she had taken the initiative to serve him tea! A betrayal of her trusting father!

“Haha… Thank you, Rongrong.”

Qian Renjue accepted the tea with a laugh, taking a light sip.

Seeing Ning Rongrong’s expectant face and her still outstretched hands, he couldn’t help but chuckle and ruffle her hair.

“I can hold it myself.”

“Mm-hmm! Brother Holy Son was so powerful and amazing earlier! Rongrong adores you!”

Ning Rongrong excitedly pumped her fists and grabbed his extended hand, her voice filled with determination.

“Rongrong will work hard in her cultivation to help Brother Holy Son become even stronger!”

“I believe in you, Rongrong.”

Qian Renjue smiled gently, holding her small hand as he walked toward Ning Fengzhi and Sword Douluo.

He greeted them with a warm smile.

“Uncle Ning, Senior Chen Xin…”

“…”


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At the same time…

Ling Yuan hurried into the Pope’s Hall.

The moment she entered, a chill ran down her spine.

Her heart filled with unease as she wondered what could have happened.