The heavy oak doors of the hotel suite swung open, revealing the opulent, dimly lit corridor beyond. Zhang Tian stepped out, the expensive fabric of his robes rustling softly against the carpet. Beside him walked Qian Renxue. She was dressed in the formal, white-and-gold regalia of the Heaven Dou Imperial Court, a disguise that felt heavier than usual today. Her face, usually a mask of perfect princely composure, was pale.
They walked in silence for a moment, the rhythmic thud of their boots the only sound in the long hallway. The air in Spirit City was always heavy, laden with the gathered faith of millions and the oppressive density of high-level spirit power, but tonight, it felt like a physical weight pressing down on Qian Renxue's shoulders.
She stopped just before they reached the main lobby, her hand gripping the velvet curtain of a window that looked out toward the towering, spired silhouette of the Supreme Pontiff's Palace.
"You must be prudent, Zhang Tian," she whispered, her voice tight, barely more than a breath. She didn't look at him, her gaze fixed on the dark fortress in the distance. "My mother… she is not like other people. She is not like your father-in-law, who calculates profit and loss, or my grandfather, who is bound by ancient oaths and duty."
She turned to him then, her eyes wide and filled with a storm of anxiety. "Her mood shifts like the wind, but with the force of a hurricane. She can be calm one moment, a placid lake reflecting the moon, and a raging tsunami the next. One wrong word, one perceived slight… she does not care for consequences the way others do."
Zhang Tian stopped and turned to face her. He saw the tremor in her hands, the way her breath hitched. This wasn't just political caution; it was the fear of a child who had walked on eggshells her entire life.
He reached out and took her hand. His grip was firm, warm, and reassuring, an anchor in the rising storm of her panic.
"Confidence, Renxue," he said, his voice low and steady. "Do not forget who I am. I have faced monsters and schemes that would break lesser men. And do not forget who you are. You are the heir to the Angel God. We are not going there as beggars seeking crumbs from her table. We are going as equals."
He flashed her a roguish grin, a spark of mischief dancing in his eyes that seemed out of place with the gravity of the situation. "Besides, I am curious. The legends say the Supreme Pontiff was once the most beautiful woman in the world, a flower that shamed the moon. I wonder how she compares to her daughter? I suspect the apple didn't fall far from the tree, but the fruit is likely sweeter in the new generation."
Qian Renxue flushed, the sudden compliment and his casual demeanor piercing through her veil of fear. "Be serious!" she hissed, though the corner of her mouth twitched. "This is not the time for your… appreciations. We are walking into the lion's den."
"Then let us walk in like lions," Zhang Tian replied, pulling her gently toward the exit where their carriage awaited.
The carriage was a masterpiece of craftsmanship, a sleek, black vehicle drawn by four spirit-beasts that looked like horses made of shadow and wind. It was the private transport of the Spirit Hall's elite. They climbed inside, the door clicking shut and sealing them in a world of plush velvet and silence.
As the carriage jerked into motion, rolling smoothly over the paved streets of Spirit City, Qian Renxue sat stiffly on the edge of the seat. Her hands were clasped tightly in her lap, her knuckles white. She was breathing too fast, her mind already playing out a hundred scenarios of doom.
Zhang Tian watched her for a moment, then shook his head. "You're vibrating like a bowstring," he murmured.
He didn't wait for a response. He reached out, grabbed her waist, and pulled.
"Zhang Tian!" she gasped, losing her balance.
Before she could protest, she found herself seated firmly on his lap, her back pressed against his chest, her legs draped over his. The position was intimate, compromising, and exactly what he intended.
"Relax," he commanded, his voice a vibration against her ear.
"We are on our way to see the Supreme Pontiff!" she whispered frantically, trying to push herself up, though her resistance was weak. "If we arrive disheveled—"
"Then she will know her daughter is well-loved," Zhang Tian countered, his arms locking around her waist like iron bands.
He didn't just hold her. His hands began to roam, claiming her with a possessive arrogance that made her head spin. One hand slid under the heavy, formal robe she wore, finding the layer of silk beneath, and then the warm, soft skin of her waist. His fingers traced the curve of her hip, kneading the flesh gently but firmly.
Qian Renxue let out a shuddering breath, her head falling back against his shoulder. The fear that had been a cold knot in her stomach began to dissolve, melted by the heat of his touch.
"You… you are incorrigible," she murmured, her eyes fluttering shut.
"And you are tense," he replied. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, inhaling her scent—a mix of holy light and rain. He kissed the sensitive skin just below her ear, his tongue tracing a wet, hot line down to her collarbone.
Qian Renxue bit her lip to stifle a moan. The carriage rocked gently, the motion causing her buttocks to grind inadvertently against him. She felt the hardness of him beneath her, a stark, undeniable reminder of his desire, and of his life. It was grounding. It was real. It was a tether to the world of flesh and blood, pulling her away from her abstract terrors.
His hand moved higher, cupping the heavy swell of her breast through the silk. He didn't treat her like a porcelain doll or a holy icon; he treated her like a woman he owned, a treasure he cherished. He teased the peak through the fabric, his touch masterful, sending jolts of electricity racing through her nerves.
"Focus on this," he whispered, biting her earlobe gently. "Focus on me. Your mother is just a woman. A powerful one, yes, but I am the man who holds you. Who else matters?"
Qian Renxue turned in his embrace, her hands gripping his shoulders. She looked into his eyes, seeing the calm, burning blue fire within them. The terror of the impending meeting faded into the background, replaced by the immediate, overwhelming sensation of him.
She leaned down and kissed him, pouring her anxiety and her gratitude into the contact. It was a deep, hungry kiss, a desperate affirmation of life before walking into the shadow of death.
By the time the carriage slowed, signaling their arrival, Qian Renxue was flushed, her breathing heavy, but her hands were no longer trembling. She quickly adjusted her robes, smoothing out the wrinkles, but the heat in her eyes remained.
"Better?" Zhang Tian asked, a smirk playing on his lips as he helped her straighten her hair.
"You are a devil," she whispered, but she squeezed his hand tightly. "Thank you."
They stepped out of the carriage and looked up.
The Supreme Pontiff's Palace was a monstrosity of architecture. It didn't just sit on the ground; it pierced the sky. Towering black spires rose like the spears of a conquering army, blotting out the stars. The walls were sheer cliffs of obsidian, polished to a mirror sheen that reflected nothing but darkness. The aura radiating from the structure was suffocating—a mixture of extreme holiness and a hidden, darker undercurrent that made the hairs on Zhang Tian's arms stand up.
Rows of silent, elite guards lined the stairs, their armor gleaming under the spirit lamps. They stood like statues, their presence a silent testament to the absolute authority that resided within. It was a fortress built not just for defense, but to crush the spirit of anyone who approached.
They were escorted through the massive main doors, into long, echoing halls that seemed to stretch into eternity. The sound of their footsteps was swallowed by the vastness of the space. Finally, they reached the main audience chamber.
The doors were massive slabs of carved dark obsidian, depicting angels and demons in an eternal struggle. They swung open silently, revealing a hall that could house a titan.
At the far end of the hall, atop a long flight of stairs, sat a high throne.
And on that throne sat Bibi Dong.
She was magnificent. She wore the papal robes of gold and white, but they seemed to dim in comparison to her presence. Her hair was a cascading river of rose-pink, framing a face that defied time. Her skin was flawless porcelain, her features carved by a master sculptor who understood perfection. Her eyes were like pink diamonds, glittering with a cold, hard light that seemed to see through everything.
But it was her aura that dominated the room. It was cold, distant, and terrifyingly powerful. It was a pressure that felt like the ocean pressing down on a diver, vast and indifferent.
Bibi Dong's gaze landed on Zhang Tian first.
For a fleeting second, a spark flickered in those diamond eyes. It was a detached observation, the appreciation of an artist for a fine work. 'Exceptionally handsome,' she thought. 'He stands there without fear, his posture relaxed yet ready. He has the bearing of a king, not a subject.'
But the thought was dismissed as quickly as it came. Her heart was a fortress, the drawbridge raised long ago, guarded by the ghost of a memory of a single man. No other man could enter.
Her gaze shifted to Qian Renxue.
The temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees. The spark of appreciation vanished, replaced by a wall of ice so thick it burned.
"Holy Maiden," Bibi Dong said. Her voice was flat, devoid of any maternal warmth, devoid of any emotion at all. It was the voice of a judge addressing a stranger. "I did not summon you."
Qian Renxue flinched internally. It was the reaction she had expected, the reaction she had feared, yet it still struck her like a whip. But she remembered Zhang Tian's hands on her waist, his voice in her ear. Confidence.
She stood tall, her chin lifting. She met her mother's cold gaze with a mask of steel.
"Your Holiness," Qian Renxue replied, her voice formal and cold, matching her mother's tone perfectly note for note. "I am here to accompany Mister Zhang Tian. He is a guest of the Spirit Hall, and a valued ally of the Elder Hall. It is my duty to ensure his... comfort and safety."
Bibi Dong's eyes narrowed slightly at the mention of the Elder Hall, a flicker of annoyance crossing her face. She ignored Qian Renxue's defiance and turned her attention back to the man standing beside her daughter.
"Step forward, Zhang Tian," she commanded.
Zhang Tian walked forward, stopping at the base of the stairs. He did not kneel. He simply nodded, a gesture of respect between equals rather than submission.
"I have heard much of you," Bibi Dong said, her voice echoing in the vast chamber. "A Spirit King who has turned the Continental Tournament into his personal stage. A genius inventor who has shifted the balance of power with his creations."
She leaned forward slightly, her eyes boring into his. "You are a singularity, Zhang Tian. A variable that this world has not seen in a long time. A Spirit King who can fight against entire teams, who can suppress the most talented generation of Spirit Masters single-handedly. They say you can decide the fate of the tournament on a whim."
Zhang Tian stepped forward, his demeanor relaxed, bordering on casual. "Your Holiness is too kind," he said, his voice smooth. "I merely do what is necessary to ensure victory. Though, I cannot deny that the rumors of my strength are... largely accurate."
He didn't bow. He simply nodded, a gesture of respect between equals rather than submission.
Bibi Dong studied him for a moment, assessing the weight of his confidence.
"The Spirit Hall values talent above all else," she stated. "We are the gathering place of the world's elite. Join us, Zhang Tian. Offer your loyalty to me. You will have resources beyond your imagination. Spirit bones, cultivation manuals from the ancient era, the guidance of Titled Douluos. The position of a Platinum Bishop is yours for the taking... and in time, even the seat of an Elder could be yours."
It was an offer that would make any Spirit Master in the world weep with gratitude. It was the keys to the kingdom.
She leaned forward, her presence intensifying. "And," she added, her eyes narrowing into dangerous slits, "I expect full cooperation regarding the 'Spirit Tools' the Seven Treasure Glaze Tile Sect is peddling. Do not insult my intelligence by claiming you are merely a beneficiary. We know you are the architect. The Spirit Hall requires this technology. Hand it over, and your future is limitless."
Zhang Tian maintained his polite smile, but he did not bow.
"Your offer is generous, Your Holiness. Truly. To be courted by the Spirit Hall is the highest recognition a Spirit Master can achieve."
He paused, letting the silence stretch for a heartbeat.
"But I am already spoken for. My loyalty lies with my family. With my wives. And with my... partners."
He glanced sideways at Qian Renxue, a gesture that spoke volumes.
Bibi Dong's expression darkened. A flash of genuine anger sparked in her eyes. She saw the look. She interpreted it instantly: he was rejecting her because of his ties to the Seven Treasure Glaze Tile Sect, and perhaps, because of his relationship with the Elder Hall through her daughter. He was choosing them over her.
"You refuse?" she asked, her voice dropping an octave, becoming a low rumble of threatening power. "You think the Seven Treasure Glaze Tile Sect can protect you? You think because you are their son-in-law, you are untouchable?"
The pressure in the room spiked. The air grew heavy, hard to breathe. It was the Killing God Domain, leaking out, a terrifying promise of violence.
Qian Renxue stepped forward, placing herself slightly between Zhang Tian and the throne. Her own aura flared, a brilliant, holy gold that pushed back against the violet darkness.
"He is not for sale, Your Holiness," Qian Renxue stated, her voice ringing like a bell. "And if you attempt to force him... my grandfather will not be pleased. The Elder Hall values Mister Zhang Tian highly. To harm him, to force him, is to sever the alliance between the Pope's Palace and the Elder Hall permanently. It would be a schism that the Spirit Hall cannot afford."
The threat was clear. It was absolute. She was threatening to break the Spirit Hall in two to protect him.
Bibi Dong stood up.
BOOM.
Her aura flared. It wasn't just spirit power; it was a terrifying wave of killing intent that washed over the room like a tide of blood. The air turned cold and thick. The shadows in the corners of the room seemed to writhe. It was the power of a peak Titled Douluo, a woman who stood at the apex of the world.
"You dare threaten me, girl?" she roared, her voice echoing off the vaulted ceiling. "In my own palace? You think your grandfather can protect you right now? From me? Do you think I care about the Elder Hall's whims when I am challenged in my own seat of power?"
The pressure was immense. Qian Renxue paled, her knees trembling under the weight of her mother's fury, but she did not back down. She channeled her own Angelic spirit power, a golden light struggling to shine in the encroaching darkness.
Zhang Tian stepped in. He moved smoothly, stepping in front of Qian Renxue, his own aura rising to shield her. He diffused the tension not with force, but with intrigue.
"Peace, Your Holiness," he said, his voice cutting through the killing intent. "I cannot join you. My path is my own. But... perhaps we can trade."
Bibi Dong looked down at him, her hand raised as if to strike them both down. "Trade? What could you possibly have that I want, that I cannot simply take from your corpse?"
'I sense... a disturbance,' Zhang Tian said with his mental force. He locked eyes with her, his blue gaze piercing through her anger, through her defenses. 'A shadow on your mind. A corruption that whispers to you, that eats at your sanity.'
He did not speak the words aloud. He sent them via a focused thread of mental force, a telepathic message meant for her alone.
'I haven't told anyone, Your Holiness. Not even Renxue. But I felt it the moment I entered this hall. A dark, sickly, divine corruption clinging to your soul. It is eating you alive.'
Bibi Dong froze. The killing intent halted in mid-air. Her eyes widened, the pink diamonds turning to circles of shock.
How?
How could he know?
The Rakshasa God's influence was her deepest, darkest secret. It was the source of her power and her torment. Not even Qian Daoliu, the man who is a Divine Envoy of the Angel God, had any idea about it. It was a secret she guarded with her life. And this boy... this Spirit King... he saw it?
"You..." she whispered aloud, her voice trembling.
"I can help you," Zhang Tian said aloud, his voice calm and confident. "I can... silence the whispers."
Before she could react, before she could deny it, Zhang Tian acted.
He simply released his spirit.
Crimson vines erupted from the floor. They were not the violent, attacking vines of the tournament. They were gentle, pulsing with a vibrant, life-giving crimson light. They did not attack. They wove around the base of the throne, climbing up the obsidian like ivy.
"Let me show you," he said.
Bibi Dong stared at the vines. She felt the energy within them. It was... hungry. But it was a clean hunger. A purifying hunger.
She looked at Qian Renxue, who was staring at Zhang Tian in confusion, unaware of the silent conversation. Bibi Dong made a decision born of decades of torture.
"Leave us," she commanded, her voice brooking no argument. She waved her hand, dismissing the invisible guards in the shadows. She looked at Qian Renxue. "Wait outside."
Qian Renxue hesitated. "But..."
"It will be fine, Renxue," Zhang Tian said, turning to give her a reassuring nod. "Trust me."
Reluctantly, casting a suspicious glance at her mother, Qian Renxue turned and walked out of the massive doors. They boomed shut, leaving Zhang Tian alone with the Supreme Pontiff.
Zhang Tian walked up the stairs. He approached the throne. He stopped just inches from the most powerful woman in the world.
"May I?" he asked, raising a hand.
Bibi Dong, her face a mask of conflict, slowly nodded.
His vines touched her arm. He placed his hand on her shoulder. And he activated his First Spirit Ability: Devour.
But he used it with a surgical precision he had never attempted before. He didn't target her spirit power. He didn't target her life force. He targeted the dark, chaotic, purple-black energy of the Rakshasa God that clung to her spirit like a cancer.
He pulled.
Bibi Dong gasped. Her back arched, her hands gripping the armrests of her throne until the stone cracked.
It wasn't pain. It was the opposite. It was the sudden, jarring absence of pain.
For twenty years, there had been a voice in her head. A sickly, scratching, maddening whisper. Kill them. Hate them. Destroy everything. You are filth. You are broken. It was a constant background noise, a fog that clouded her judgment, that twisted her emotions, that kept her in a state of perpetual, simmering madness.
And now... it was fading.
Zhang Tian's Blood Silver Emperor acted like a sponge. It latched onto the divine corruption, sucking it out of her meridians, out of her spiritual sea.
The whispers grew quiet. The headache, a pressure she had carried for so long she had forgotten what it felt like to be without it, suddenly lifted.
Her mind felt... clear. Cool. Silent.
It was a bliss she hadn't known in years. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes. She took a breath, and it felt like the first clean breath she had taken since she had started undergoing the trials to accept the Divine Position of the Rakshasa God.
Zhang Tian stopped after a few minutes. He withdrew his hand, the crimson vines receding. He looked slightly pale; absorbing divine corruption was taxing, even for him.
"That is all I can do for now," he said quietly. "The source is deep. It will return. But I can keep it at bay. I can give you... silence."
Bibi Dong looked at him. Her eyes were wide, vulnerable in a way the world had never seen. She touched her own forehead, marveling at the quiet in her mind.
"What do you want?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly from the sheer relief. She knew everything had a price. "You said we could trade. What is the price for this?"
Zhang Tian looked at her. "I want you to be a mother to Qian Renxue," he said simply. "Spend time with her. Talk to her. Treat her like a daughter, not a political rival."
The vulnerability vanished instantly.
Bibi Dong's face hardened into a mask of stone. The old hatred, the deep, festering wound of her past, flared up, hotter than any fire.
"Impossible," she hissed. "Do not ask that of me. I would rather the whispers return a thousandfold. I would rather go mad than play happy family with... her."
She didn't explain. She didn't mention the rape. She didn't mention Qian Xunji. She didn't say that looking at Renxue was like looking at the face of the man who had destroyed her life. She just stared at him with eyes full of loathing.
Zhang Tian sighed. He had expected this. The trauma was too deep to be healed in a single conversation.
"Very well," he said. "Then I offer a compromise."
He looked her in the eye. "Simply... exist with her. Do not be cruel. Talk to her as an equal. Discuss politics, the world, the tournament. Anything. Just... interact. Do not push her away. Do not freeze her out. That is my price."
Bibi Dong glared at him. But the silence in her head was so sweet. The clarity was so addictive. Could she do it? Could she just... talk to the girl? Without trying to destroy her?
She weighed the cost. A few conversations with the daughter she despised, in exchange for her sanity. In exchange for a chance to finally, truly control her own mind.
"Fine," she snapped, looking away. "I will... talk to her. But do not expect warmth. Do not expect love. I have none to give her."
Zhang Tian smiled. It was a start.
"That is acceptable," he said. "Then we have a deal, Your Holiness."
~~
A/N: Check out my BTTH Fanfic [Doupo: Plundering the Plot with God-Tier Comprehension].
Also, check out 20 Chapters Ahead for this fanfic on my P.atreon.
Patreon link: https://www.patreon.com/c/evildragon04