On the streets, there was none of the clamor or dust of horse-drawn carriages; instead, sleek spirit tool electric trams glided by silently.
They followed energy circuits engraved into the ground, weaving through every corner of the city with precision and efficiency, serving as the primary mode of transportation for the citizens.
On both sides of the road stood skyscrapers of varying styles, each one a testament to high-end design.
Their walls reflected the sun's brilliance during the day, and at night, they would light up with massive dynamic advertisements composed of countless spirit tool light tubes, a kaleidoscope of colors that made the entire city shine as bright as day.
Signs for various spirit tool shops flickered with enchanting halos, and their windows displayed everything from basic lighting spirit tools to complex automated household machinery and portable spirit tool devices for personal use—a dazzling array that covered every need.
Above the city, there was another scene entirely.
Aerial tracks powered by Soul Power crisscrossed the sky, with small private spirit tool flying vehicles moving through them in an orderly fashion.
Higher up in the sky, massive silver-gray spirit tool airships patrolled slowly along fixed routes.
They were the aerial guardians of Radiant City, their massive searchlight beams sweeping across the urban districts below from time to time, manifesting the Empire's omnipresent control.
The air was not filled with natural freshness, but rather a unique scent mixed with metal, energy, and vitality.
Everything here operated at high speed, full of opportunities and challenges, leaving any newcomer stunned by its near-sci-fi advancement and prosperity.
In the southern district of Radiant City, within a relatively quiet residential area, sat an inconspicuous little courtyard.
The courtyard walls were a dusty gray, and there were only a few ordinary plants inside; compared to the meticulously tended gardens of the neighbors, it looked somewhat desolate.
However, it was such an ordinary little courtyard that was currently permeated with a suffocating solemnity and fanaticism.
In the center of the courtyard, Castorice slowly came to a halt.
She raised her hand and removed the black hood that had been enough to shield most of her face.
In an instant, it was as if moonlight had poured down.
A head of smooth long hair cascaded down like a waterfall; the roots were a pure silver, which gradually transitioned into a dreamlike, magnificent purple toward the tips.
Even more striking were her ears, which differed from those of ordinary people, narrowing slightly upward to present an elegant and exquisite pointed outline, like an elf stepped out of legend.
That small face was so exquisite it didn't seem real, yet within those purple eyes, there was no emotion—only a bottomless expanse of indifference.
Thump—
As her hood fell, all the black-robed cultists in the courtyard, as if controlled by an invisible command, dropped to one knee in unison. Their heads were buried deep in a synchronized movement as they issued fanatical and respectful whispers:
"Welcome, Lady Holy Maiden."
Among the crowd, there was only one exception.
It was an elderly man standing at the very front, also dressed in a black robe, but his aura was far deeper than the others—he was clearly a powerhouse at the Spirit Saint level.
He did not kneel, but instead bowed deeply, expressing his respect through a formal bow.
In the Douluo Continent, a Spirit Saint was a powerhouse capable of founding their own sect wherever they went, enjoying extremely high status.
Even within the strictly hierarchical Holy Spirit Cult, a Spirit Saint-level Elder did not need to perform a full kowtow when facing the Holy Maiden.
However, Castorice ignored all of this.
Her indifferent purple eyes did not linger on any of the kneeling cultists, nor did she pay any mind to the bowing Spirit Saint Elder.
She simply walked straight through the path they had left open, expressionless, as if they were merely a group of lifeless stone statues.
Such an attitude of complete disregard did not cause any dissatisfaction; even the Spirit Saint Elder remained in his bowing posture, not daring to make the slightest move.
Because everyone knew that the Holy Maiden before them was not only the future symbol of the Holy Spirit Cult but also the Personal Disciple of the most perverse and ruthless Supreme Cult Master, Ye Xishui.
Furthermore, it was because another person followed closely behind Castorice.
It was a girl who looked not much older than Castorice, wearing an intricate and magnificent black Gothic Lolita dress, holding a matching black lace parasol.
An innocent yet eerie smile hung on her face, and her crimson eyes, like the purest blood, radiated a heart-palpitating madness and pleasure.
Scarlet Douluo, Fei Yan.
The Third Consecrated Elder of the Holy Spirit Cult, a Rank 97 attack system Super Douluo.
Her presence was like an invisible shackle, gripping the throats of everyone present, making them tremble from the depths of their Souls.
Hidden beneath that seemingly elegant parasol was a terrifying power capable of easily slaughtering an entire city.
She was the Holy Maiden's most loyal protector and her sharpest sword.
The furnishings inside the room of the small courtyard were simple, even crude, consisting only of a plain set of wooden table and chairs, completely out of step with the decadent prosperity of Radiant City.
This was precisely the characteristic of many Holy Spirit Cult strongholds—utility above all, discarding all unnecessary decoration.
Castorice sat down casually in the main seat, while Fei Yan, like a shadow that followed her everywhere, elegantly closed her black lace parasol and leaned it against the wall. She then stood quietly by Castorice's side, her crimson eyes scanning every corner of the room with a hint of bored scrutiny.
Before long, a series of light and hurried footsteps came from outside the door.
The door was carefully pushed open a crack, and a girl carrying a wooden tray walked in with her head bowed.
She looked to be only twelve or thirteen years old, with a neat dark-red ponytail and healthy wheat-colored skin from years of training.
The black robe she wore was the standard uniform for the most common Acolytes, washed so many times it had turned slightly white, clearly having been worn for a long time.
The girl's movements were filled with deliberate caution. As she walked to the table, the two coarse ceramic teacups on the tray made a slight clinking sound due to the faint trembling of her hands.
She first placed a cup of tea in the empty spot before Fei Yan, and then, with a posture almost like an offering, she held the other cup with both hands and gently placed it before Castorice.
Throughout the entire process, she kept her head lowered, her gaze only daring to rest on the ground three inches in front of her toes, as if looking up even once would be a form of desecration.
"Lady Holy Maiden, Third Consecrated Elder, please have some tea."
Her voice was as faint as a mosquito's buzz.
Having completed her task, she felt as if she had been granted a great amnesty and immediately bowed and retreated. Every movement was careful, for fear of disturbing these two great figures.
"What is your name?"
Just as the girl was about to reach the door, thinking she could leave safely, a cold voice suddenly rang out.
------------------------
I've posted 70+ chapters in advance on Patreon.
Webnovel updates will still be daily, as usual.
It might not seem tempting right now but who knows what the future holds?
[email protected]/DaoistRoeoNQ
"And If you're enjoying it, drop a Power Stone for me!"