The crowd completely exploded.
No—exploded was an understatement.
It was as if a thunderbolt had detonated in the hearts of every person present.
They had originally believed this to be nothing more than an internal trial of the Spirit Hall—perhaps slightly more public than usual, but still within expectations.
Yet what unfolded before their eyes was a spectacle so vast, so terrifying, that it shook their very understanding of the world.
"This… isn't this already a continental-level scandal?"
"Yu Xiaogang attempting to assassinate the Supreme Pontiff was shocking enough!"
"But to summon this many terrifying figures all at once—what kind of trial is this supposed to be?!"
Shock. Confusion. Awe.
These emotions churned violently through the square like a raging storm.
At this moment—
Someone, finally clawing back a shred of clarity from the abyss of astonishment, voiced a question that struck directly at the heart of the matter.
"Wait… has anyone noticed?"
"Who is that young man walking at the very front?"
His voice trembled slightly, as though he himself feared the implications of his own words.
"Why does it feel like… all those legendary figures are unconsciously centered around him?"
The moment this question was spoken—
It was like pouring icy water onto boiling oil.
Boom!
The entire square erupted anew.
That's right!
Everyone had been dazzled by figures such as Bibi Dong, Ning Fengzhi, Qian Daoliu, Sword Douluo, Bone Douluo, and the emperors of the two great empires.
In their shock, they had subconsciously overlooked the most conspicuous existence of all—
The young man at the very front.
He appeared barely twenty years old.
Handsome features. Calm expression. Lazy posture.
He looked as though he had just stepped out for a casual stroll, utterly detached from the earth-shattering scene around him.
Yet—
The Supreme Pontiff of the Spirit Hall.
The emperors who ruled nations.
The peerless Douluo who stood at the pinnacle of the continent.
All of them—without exception—were deliberately half a step behind him.
It was not coincidence.
It was instinct.
The instinctive reverence of those beneath someone far above them.
A hush fell over many parts of the square, followed immediately by wild, uncontrolled speculation.
"Who… who exactly is that person?"
"He doesn't seem to radiate spirit pressure at all…"
"But did you notice? The women beside him—every single one is a rare beauty!"
"And the way the Supreme Pontiff looks at him… that gaze—"
"Could it be that he is the Supreme Pontiff's—"
Before anyone could finish such dangerously speculative thoughts—
A sharp, cold rebuke rang out from a nearby Spirit City local.
"Watch your mouths!"
"Are you trying to get yourselves killed?!"
The local Spirit Master glared at the outsiders with unconcealed contempt.
Then, lowering his voice, he spoke with a tone filled with fanatical reverence—almost worship.
"That person is a god walking among mortals."
"A supreme existence who can reduce Titled Douluo to ashes with a single flick of his finger."
The outsiders stiffened.
"A god…?"
"Is that an exaggeration?"
They instinctively wanted to scoff.
Yet when they looked around—
They found that every Spirit City resident nearby shared the same expression.
Reverence.
Fear.
Unshakable belief.
In that instant, reason lost to survival instinct.
Whatever doubts lingered in their hearts, no one dared voice them again.
The dreamlike procession continued forward.
Step by step.
Until it finally reached the grand viewing platform erected at the forefront of the square.
Hundreds of thousands of eyes followed every movement.
Then—
Something happened that shattered all remaining doubt.
Bibi Dong.
The Supreme Pontiff of the Spirit Hall.
Personally stepped forward.
She took out a snow-white blanket, soft and lustrous, clearly crafted from the fur of an unknown high-grade Spirit Beast.
With extreme care, she spread it across the most luxurious and noble throne at the center of the platform.
Her movements were gentle.
Reverent.
Almost devout.
After finishing, she turned toward the young man and bowed deeply.
"Senior, please."
The entire square fell deathly silent.
Lin Feng did not hesitate.
He sat down naturally, crossing his legs with lazy ease, as though this throne had always belonged to him.
Immediately—
Hu Liena, Zhu Zhuqing, Zhu Zhuyun, and the others stepped forward in perfect, wordless coordination.
One gently massaged his shoulders.
Two knelt and massaged his legs.
Their expressions were calm, familiar, and utterly natural.
Seeing this scene—
The outsiders' final doubts were obliterated.
If the Supreme Pontiff herself acted like a servant before him…
Then calling this man a god was no exaggeration at all.
Fear replaced curiosity.
Reverence crushed speculation.
At this point, Bibi Dong finally glanced at the Cardinal responsible for presiding over the trial.
The Cardinal shuddered violently.
His mind, still reeling from everything he had witnessed, snapped back to reality.
He immediately infused his spirit power into his voice and shouted with all his might.
"The trial assembly—officially begins!"
"Bring forth the criminal—Yu Xiaogang!"
The moment his voice echoed across the square—
A shrill, arrogant torrent of curses erupted from the rear.
"Let go of me!"
"All of you let go!"
"You lowly trash—do you know who I am?!"
"I am the Grandmaster!"
"I am Yu Xiaogang!!!"
Soon, two tall, muscular Spirit Emperor–level guards dragged Yu Xiaogang forward like a dead dog.
His clothes were disheveled.
His hair was a mess.
Gone was the composed, scholarly demeanor he once flaunted.
Before hundreds of thousands of gazes—
Cold iron chains clanked.
Yu Xiaogang was bound tightly to a towering cross at the center of the square.
Seeing this, Lin Feng raised an eyebrow slightly.
A crucifixion?
Interesting choice.
The moment Yu Xiaogang was restrained, his eyes locked onto the viewing platform.
Onto Lin Feng, lounging lazily upon the throne.
Onto Bibi Dong, standing respectfully beside him like a devoted attendant.
Jealousy.
Hatred.
Madness.
They exploded inside his mind, completely drowning what little sanity remained.
He screamed with all his strength.
"Bibi Dong!!!"
"You shameless bitch!!!"
"Release me immediately!"
"Otherwise, I will never forgive you—never!!!"
The venomous roar reverberated through the square.
Those on the viewing platform couldn't help but twitch their expressions.
Devil Bear Douluo rolled his eyes without restraint.
"Is this idiot's brain actually broken?"
"Does he seriously still think he has any leverage?"
Bibi Dong's expression remained utterly calm.
She did not even bother to look at Yu Xiaogang.
She didn't need to.
The Cardinal already understood.
This was the perfect opportunity to demonstrate loyalty—both to the Supreme Pontiff and to the divine existence seated above all.
Spirit power surged.
A barbed whip, formed entirely of condensed spirit energy, materialized in his hand.
His gaze was icy.
"How dare you."
"How dare you insult the Supreme Pontiff."
"Crack—!!!"
The whip tore through the air like a venomous serpent.
It struck Yu Xiaogang's body with explosive force.
Skin split.
Flesh tore.
Blood sprayed.
"AAAHHH—!!!"
A piercing scream ripped from Yu Xiaogang's throat.
This pain went far beyond the physical.
This was humiliation.
Public.
Utter.
Irreversible.
The so-called "Grandmaster" was being flogged like a criminal before the entire continent.
His already twisted face contorted further, drenched in pain and shame.
"You… you dare to hit me?!"
Yu Xiaogang glared at the Cardinal, eyes bloodshot, madness overflowing.
"I am—"
"Crack—!"
Another whip.
Heavier.
Crueler.
The Cardinal sneered coldly.
"I don't care who you are."
"In Spirit City, disrespecting the Supreme Pontiff is a capital crime."
"If not for Her Holiness's order to publicly expose a fraud like you—"
"Do you really think you'd still be alive, standing here and breathing?"
The crowd watched in silence.
No pity.
No sympathy.
Only one thought echoed in countless minds:
The era of the "Grandmaster" had ended—
And it had ended in utter disgrace