Bibi Dong tilted her flushed face upward.
Her complexion was red like a sinking sunset, her amethyst eyes misted with alcohol and expectation as she stared at Lin Feng, unsure yet unwilling to retreat.
As if afraid her courage might evaporate if she hesitated even a second longer, she grabbed the remaining half-glass of iced beer.
She tilted her head back.
Golden liquid slid down her slender neck in an unbroken line, disappearing past her collarbone.
"Gulp~~"
A long, unrestrained burp followed—rich with malt, mixed shamelessly with her natural fragrance.
The last thread of restraint snapped.
Bibi Dong's eyes went completely unfocused.
With the resolve of someone stepping onto a battlefield she might not survive, she spoke again—voice slurred but deadly serious.
"Tonight… I will definitely… hic… give you… a night you'll never forget."
Across the table, Hu Liena and Zhu Zhuyun's expressions collapsed simultaneously.
Ugly.
Extremely ugly.
They wanted to rush over and tear this shameless drunk woman off Lin Feng.
But reality was cruel.
In identity.
In status.
In sheer strength.
Any resistance from them looked laughable in front of the Spirit Hall's Supreme Pontiff.
At this moment, Bibi Dong's world held only one person.
She clung tightly to Lin Feng's arm, practically hanging off him, dragging him toward the stairs leading to the second floor.
Her steps were unsteady.
Her determination was not.
"Let's go… let's go…" she mumbled, cheeks brushing his arm as she staggered forward. "I'm almost… almost can't wait…"
Her words spilled out without structure, thick with longing.
"You have no idea… how long I've waited for today…"
Then—
The alcohol surged.
Whether it was standing too fast or the accumulated beers finally rebelling, her vision spun violently.
Her knees buckled.
She managed only a short gasp before falling straight backward.
—
Soft.
That was Bibi Dong's first conscious thought.
The mattress beneath her was absurdly gentle, like velvet clouds catching her fall.
"Mmm…"
She groaned faintly and forced her heavy eyelids open.
This wasn't her bedroom.
No towering curtains.
No overwhelming majesty.
No cold, oppressive luxury of the Supreme Pontiff Palace.
Instead, the room was simple. Clean. Quiet.
Moonlight filtered through the window lattice.
Her head throbbed painfully.
Worse—her memory was fractured.
She remembered drinking.
A lot.
And then… nothing.
A soft rustle of fabric came from beside her.
Bibi Dong turned her head.
She saw him.
Lin Feng was standing by the bed, gently pulling a blanket over her.
Then he turned, his back to her, clearly preparing to leave.
That tall, composed silhouette felt unbearably distant.
"Don't go!"
She tumbled out of bed without thinking.
Barefoot, knees scraping against the floor, she rushed forward and threw her arms around him from behind.
Her soft body pressed tightly against his back.
Her hands locked around his waist.
Her forehead rested against him.
Warm tears fell freely, splashing onto the floor.
Lin Feng stopped.
He could feel her trembling.
"Don't go…"
Her voice was thick with tears, clinging desperately, like someone grasping the last piece of driftwood.
"Lin Feng…"
Her words came out broken, hoarse.
"You clearly… clearly were going to give me the first skewer…"
"You can't… you can't go back on your word…"
The logic was gone.
The dignity was gone.
Only fear remained.
Lin Feng didn't move.
He simply stood there, allowing the woman who ruled the Douluo Continent to cry against his back like a lost child.
After a long while, the trembling slowly eased.
Only then did he turn.
Bibi Dong instinctively released him, staggering back half a step.
Moonlight illuminated her fully.
Disheveled hair.
Clothes askew.
Tear-streaked cheeks.
Her once-commanding amethyst eyes were red and swollen, filled with unease.
Lin Feng looked at her for a moment.
Then he smiled.
He reached out and gently wiped the tears from her cheek with his thumb.
The touch was light.
Careful.
Bibi Dong froze completely, not even daring to breathe.
Lin Feng leaned closer, his warm breath brushing her ear.
"Who said…"
"I broke my promise?"
—
The next morning.
The first rays of sunlight pierced the mist surrounding Spirit City.
The square before the Supreme Pontiff Palace was already solemn and silent.
A hundred Spirit Hall knights stood in formation, cold armor reflecting pale light.
Their mounts were no ordinary warhorses—but powerful horse-type spirit beasts, eyes sharp and ferocious.
Each knight carried at least Spirit Ancestor-level aura.
The captains were Spirit Emperors.
Their task was simple.
Escort a prisoner.
A dark-silver prison carriage, heavy and oppressive.
"Creak—"
The iron door opened.
Two knights dragged a foul-smelling lump of humanity and threw him inside.
Yu Xiaogang.
Rotten vegetables, eggs, and dirt had fermented overnight into a hardened crust. The stench was nauseating.
His eyes burned with hatred as he stared toward the distant Supreme Pontiff Palace.
"Bibi Dong!"
"You slut!!"
Clang!
The leading captain slammed his scabbard against the bars, sparks flying.
"Speak again," he said coldly, "and I'll cut out your tongue."
Yu Xiaogang shrank instantly, curling into a corner.
But hatred roared louder inside him.
He hated Bibi Dong.
He hated Lin Feng.
He hated his father.
He hated the sects.
He hated the world.
"Depart!"
The convoy moved.
They left Spirit City by a remote mountain path.
Destination—Blackstone Fortress.
The road was rough.
Yu Xiaogang was thrown around violently, bile rising in his throat.
The forest was silent.
Then—
"Whoa!"
The lead captain reined in his mount sharply.
The spirit beast stamped nervously.
"Stop!"
His gaze swept the trees ahead, hand resting on his sword.
Something was wrong.