The voice of Qian Daoliu shook the air, filled with a fury.
Renxue froze, her hand hovering just shy of the handle. A wry smile played at the corner of her lips as she tilted her head slightly.
'Grandfather is in a rage. To step inside now would be to walk straight into the line of fire.'
Instead, she leaned lightly against the doorframe, waiting with patience.
After some time, the heavy door creaked open.
A tall figure stepped out—blonde hair neatly combed, a handsome face sharpened by years of authority, and the gleaming white-and-gold Pope's robes draped over his form. It was her father, Qian Xunji.
The faint light from the corridor lanterns illuminated him, yet his expression was calm, unreadable. Even though he had just been scolded by Qian Daoliu, not a single trace of humiliation or anger could be seen. As always, the Pope carried himself like the supreme ruler of Spirit Hall, every movement composed and deliberate.
His sharp eyes swept over the corridor until they landed on the small figure waiting there. A flicker of surprise passed through his gaze, but his tone was gentle, almost warm, as he asked:
"Renxue, how are you? Did you enjoy your trip outside?"
Qian Renxue looked up at him, her delicate face carrying an innocent smile. She answered softly, "I had fun, Father."
Though her words were simple, her purple eyes lingered on him longer than necessary. She was studying him, measuring the weight behind his calm facade.
From within the chamber came a low, commanding voice that could not be ignored.
"Renxue?"
The sound did not carry the dignity of Great Worshipper, but an old man undefeated by times—the voice of her grandfather, Qian Daoliu.
Qian Xunji's gaze deepened for a moment. He bent slightly closer to his daughter and said, in a voice so calm that it seemed rehearsed, "Don't make Grandfather wait too long."
His words carried neither warmth nor coldness. It was as though a veil stood between them—an invisible distance that father and daughter could never cross.
With that, Qian Xunji turned and walked down the corridor. His tall figure gradually faded into the shadows of the hallway, the embroidered Pope's robe swaying with every step until he disappeared from sight.
Yet, Qian Renxue's eyes remained fixed on his departing back. In the depths of her pupils, a faint gleam stirred, complicated emotions she did not allow to surface.
"Renxue."
This time the voice was closer. Startled from her thoughts, Qian Renxue turned around. Standing before her was her grandfather, Qian Daoliu.
The Great Worshipper of Spirit Hall appeared as majestic as ever. His tall frame straightened like an unshakable pillar, his silver hair reflecting the light. But to Renxue, who had been watching him closely since childhood, she noticed the faint traces of fatigue at the corners of his eyes, hidden beneath his composed exterior.
Yet when those stern eyes met hers, they softened.
Qian Daoliu reached out with his broad, calloused palm and gently rubbed her head. His touch carried a warmth rarely shown to anyone else in the world.
"Welcome back, Renxue."
---
Qian Daoliu's eyes swept over the quiet figure standing aside. His voice carried both majesty and impatience.
"Ghost, you wait outside."
Ghost Douluo immediately cupped his hands, his figure blending into the dim light as he retreated.
"Yes, Great Worshiper."
Qian Daoliu and Qian renxue went inside the hall room. The massive doors rumbled shut behind him, leaving only the old man and the young girl in the solemn chamber. The faint fragrance of sandalwood lingered in the air, mixing with the oppressive silence.
Qian Daoliu placed his hand gently on Qian Renxue's shoulder, guiding her forward. His sharp eyes, like two blades honed by years of command, fell upon her delicate face.
"Renxue," his voice was calm, but every word carried weight, "a few months ago, Spirit Hall became the spectacle of the continent."
He did not need to explain further—news spread quickly among powerful factions. Still, he spoke with deliberate clarity.
"Fourth Brother, struck down our Demon Bear Douluo. In the eyes of the world, our Spirit Hall, was made a laughingstock."
His tone hardened, each syllable hammering into the air. Then, slowly, he reached to his side and pulled out a wooden box. The lid creaked open, revealing documents neatly stacked inside.
These were no ordinary reports, they were the collected testimonies, and scraps of evidence painstakingly traced back to Demon Bear Douluo's conduct. Greed, arrogance, cruelty to commoners—all recorded.
Qian Daoliu pushed the box toward Renxue, his piercing gaze locking on her.
"Tell me, Renxue… what is it you wish to say?"
The young girl's eyes flickered as she stared at the wooden box. For an instant her lips curved into a faint, almost playful smile, but then her face changed back to a innocent little kitten.
"Grandfather," she said softly, her tone light as a feather, "it was… nothing more than a big coincidence."