It was evening.
The lamps of Gengxin City had already begun to glow, their faint light spilling across the blacksmith workshops and cobbled streets. Wu Meng stepped out of the Blacksmith
Association, her shoulders carrying the weight of intimidation she showed to Lou Gao on behalf of her Young Master. The evening air was cool, yet it carried with it the distinct tang of iron and smelted ore that never seemed to leave this city.
She walked with calm steps, but her instincts—told her something was wrong. Her skin prickled. Her pace slowed. She had already memorized much of Gengxin City's layout from her morning walk; she knew which alleys bent into silence, which roads bustled with trade, and which routes the guards rarely patrolled.
By the third turn, the sensation of being watched was undeniable. Shadows shifted behind her, subtle yet purposeful. A faint crunch of boots matched her steps a moment too late, like an echo.
Wu Meng's eyes flickered, and she deliberately turned down a secluded street, where old buildings leaned close together, and the flicker of lanterns seemed too far to reach. The silence was deeper here. She stopped and spoke clearly into the air, her young but steady voice echoing against the walls.
"I know you are people from Spirit Hall."
From the edges of the darkness, several figures detached themselves—cloaked soul masters, their movements sharp and silent, their gazes fixed like predators who had already cornered their prey.
Wu Meng did not flinch. Her hand moved, and a faint glow shimmered as she summoned a small wooden box from her space soul guide. The watchers stirred at the sight, their eyes narrowing, for they knew this was no ordinary item.
Wu Meng opened it carefully.
Inside was not what she expected.
A pale white herb lay within, resembling the fang of some celestial beast, its surface etched with translucent blue veins. The edges of the herb shimmered faintly, like frost kissed by moonlight. The air grew colder around it, carrying a faint fragrance that cleared the mind.
Wu Meng froze, her pupils contracting slightly. Her thoughts tumbled into chaos.
'Where is the Elder's token? The one Young Master Qian Renxue personally put into this box?'
Her grip on the wooden lid tightened imperceptibly. Panic was dangerous in this situation. So she forced her breathing to slow, though inside, her mind raced.
While Wu Meng was still staring at the pale white herb inside the wooden box, confusion flashing in her eyes. a faint whisper floated on the wind farway from Wu Meng
"The name of that herb… is Lionbone Jade Thistle."
The voice did not reach Wu Meng and the other Soul Masters because the owner of the voice was far from them.
In the shadows beyond Wu Meng's sight, a cloaked figure stood unmoving. The hood was drawn low, hiding his bulk, but the wind lifted it just enough to reveal a rugged face—sharp yellow hair, a thick bushy beard, and eyes like a lion staring down prey.
It was none other than the Fourth Worship of Spirit Hall's Douluo Palace—Mighty Lion Douluo, Xiongshi Douluo.
In his large hands, he too held a wooden box, identical to the one Wu Meng carried. His grip tightened unconsciously as his mind drifted back to two days prior.
---
At that time, Xiongshi Douluo had been brimming with joy. His beloved grandson, Shi Ming, had awakened his martial soul, an auspicious day for his bloodline. Following Qian Renxue's promise, he had prepared to gift the boy an immortal herb, a treasure secured through the highest of connections. With it, Shi Ming's future cultivation path could have been solidified, his foundation raised beyond his peers.
But when he opened the box… it was empty.
Instead of the radiant herb he had anticipated, there was only a neatly folded report.
Confused, he unfolded the parchment and began to read.
With each line, his expression grew darker, his aura heavier. The report was thorough—detailing countless vile deeds committed by Bishop Meyers, the Spirit Hall branch leader in Gengxin City, and his illicit dealings with none other than Demon Bear Douluo. Bribery, extortion, even collusion with bandits to suppress dissidents—all written in detail, with witness accounts and evidence attached.
By the time he finished, his knuckles had gone white from gripping the paper too tightly. His lion-like martial soul spirit stirred restlessly within him, demanding release.
At the bottom, one final note was written in a flowing but sharp hand:
'—Sister Wu Meng has gone to Gengxin City, carrying an Elder's Token in the wooden box. With that token, no one in the branch should dare oppose her.'
Xiongshi Douluo had scowled deeply at those words.
He knew Wu Meng. The quiet little girl whom Qian Daoliu had taken in, who had grown up silent and disciplined, her life devoted to cultivation. She had never meddled in politics, never played at schemes. And now she served voluntarily as the personal maid of Qian Renxue, which in itself had been shocking to the elders of the Douluo Palace.
Why would she be sent to Gengxin City? Was she truly here to confront Bishop Meyers?
If his box had been swapped—if the promised herb was missing—then what about hers?
That thought had nagged at him, burrowed deep into his heart.
And so, without hesitation, he had soared through the skies with his Level 97 cultivation, arriving in Gengxin City in two days.
Hidden from sight, he had spotted Wu Meng walking through the city with a young boy—Si Long. He did not intervene,instead, he watched.
At first, he had thought she had come to impeach Bishop Meyers with the Elder's Token.
But watching her for the day ,it confused him further.