Chapter 197: 216. The Fallen Yu Xiaogang
On Yu Xiaogang's so‑called Papal Token were six sigils—a Haotian Hammer, a blue dragon, a sword, a chrysanthemum, a humanoid figure, and a crown.
When the two palace guards saw it, their initial caution evaporated. They eyed the frail man before them—a mere level‑29 spirit master pretending to be important—and sneered.
"Where did you get this Papal Token?" one demanded.
Yu Xiaogang's temper flared. Wasn't the rule that the bearer of the Pope's Token was to be treated as the Pope herself? Yet this pair had shown not a shred of respect.
"The origin of this token isn't something worms like you are qualified to ask about!" he barked. "Since when has Spirit Hall forgotten its own doctrine—seeing the Token is like seeing the Pope? Kneel before me at once!"
"Kneel? You weak little trash?" one guard scoffed—and slapped him so hard that his body spun mid‑air and crashed to the ground.
"You dare strike me?" Yu Xiaogang gasped in disbelief.
"Strike you? I'll do worse."
Both soldiers set upon him with batons, each blow landing with brutal precision—six strikes per second—until the self‑proclaimed "Master" was howling, face swollen beyond recognition.
Finally, one guard snatched up the Token, spat contemptuously across it, and said,
"First, Spirit Hall has undergone reform. Holding a Pope's Token still grants honorary elder status, but your authority as an outsider has been reduced. We owe you only basic politeness, not groveling worship. A level‑29 nobody like you isn't fit to make us kneel."
Then he twisted his boot down on Yu Xiaogang's face, grinding his pride into the marble floor.
"Second—each Token is personally assigned to a recognized bearer. We recognize holders, not thieves. Every Token's owner is at least the head of a clan, and never below level‑79. Tell me, what qualifications does a petty level‑29 spirit master like you have to possess one?"
"Lastly," the guard continued, "at the last Continental Sect Summit, the Hall reclassified the top three sects. The Haotian and Blue Lightning Tyrant Dragon Clans were expelled. The current Three Great Sects are: the Body Sect, Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Sect, and Dragon Elephant Sect. We recalled the old Tokens and issued new ones to the recognized three. The new Tokens do not bear symbols of the Haotian Hammer or the Blue Lightning Dragon. Meaning yours—" he waved the battered piece— "is an obsolete Token."
"Of the old batch, our Hall recovered all but one—the one once belonging to the Haotian Sect. And now it's in your hands. So, talk. How did you acquire it?"
Yu Xiaogang froze. Realization struck like lightning. Tang Hao—you've doomed me!
Given Spirit Hall's enmity with the Haotian Clan, he couldn't admit he'd received it from Tang Hao.
Flustered, he stammered, "I… I'm an old acquaintance of Bibi Dong! This token was a gift from her!"
He barely finished before another slap rattled his skull.
"You dare speak Her Holiness's name so casually? Still lying? Drag him to the dungeons—interrogate him thoroughly!"
Panic set in. "Wait—no! I really am her acquaintance! She'll punish you—she'll—!"
But the guards were both spirit kings—far beyond anything a level‑29 weakling could resist. Kicking and screaming, Yu Xiaogang was hauled off into Spirit Hall's dreaded prison tower.
Moments later, the same two guards knelt before Qian Renxue.
"Lady Qian Renxue," one reported, "the man holding the old Papal Token has been caught. What are your orders?"
Qian Renxue sipped her tea calmly. "Good work. Now, use every interrogation method available. Force him to confess in writing that the Token was given to him by Tang Hao."
"Understood, my lady," one guard replied. "The dungeon has its ways. He'll be talking soon enough."
"Don't rush," she said coolly. "After he signs the confession, keep him imprisoned for one month. Then release him. In the meantime—" she smiled faintly, a glint of cruelty flashing in her eyes— "treat him to our finest hospitality. As long as he doesn't die, you have my permission to… indulge."
"Yes, my lady!" the soldiers chorused. The promise of promotion gleamed like gold before their eyes.
"Complete this perfectly," Qian Renxue added, "and you'll each be advanced two ranks, with double pay."
The guards' eyes flared with vicious delight. "We'll treat him very well, Lady Qian Renxue."
In a dark cell, Yu Xiaogang gripped the cold bars, shouting hoarsely toward the narrow sliver of daylight. "Let me out! I want to see Bibi Dong! I'm her old acquaintance—you can't do this to me!"
A voice echoed from the shadows. "So you claim to know the Pope, do you?"
"Yes!" Yu Xiaogang said quickly.
The guard chuckled. "Funny, because to me you look more like a spy. That Token in your hand—isn't it from the Haotian Clan? You've conspired with them to infiltrate our Hall. Confess!"
"Hmph! Fabricated charges!" Yu Xiaogang declared defiantly, lifting his chin as if channeling noble courage. "Add to my crimes whatever you wish—I will not yield!"
"Oh? Such backbone." The guard sneered. "Let's see if it lasts."
They dragged him into a stark chamber. Inside waited several shirtless men with grim expressions, surrounded by a grotesque collection of tools: axe, saw, hammer, tongs, branding rods, whips, shackles, spiked frames, even the infamous tiger bench—and jars of pepper water for "refreshment."
Yu Xiaogang's lips quivered. "Th‑these… what are they for?"
"For you, naturally," the guard replied almost cheerfully. "Think of it as… a menu. For stubborn mouths, we have plenty of ways to make them open. But don't worry—we'll keep you conscious. We've even prepared healing‑type soul masters to patch you up between courses, so you can enjoy every single one."
As each device was explained in vivid detail, Yu Xiaogang felt sweat pour down his spine in rivers.
(END CHAPTER)
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