On the same day, Spirit City — Morning
The participating teams who had passed the preliminary had reached Spirit City early. Flags bearing the emblems of various academies fluttered along the wide stone roads, while spirit beasts pulling carriages let out low, restless cries. The usually solemn city was livelier than usual, yet beneath the surface, undercurrents of tension quietly spread.
Spirit City — Pope's Hall
High above the city, within the towering Pope's Hall, Bibi Dong sat upon the Pope's Throne.
Her posture was upright, dignified, and cold as ever. From the outside, she appeared calm—majestic even—her gaze distant as it overlooked the vast hall below. Yet beneath that composed exterior, something stirred.
It was not Bibi Dong who was restless, but the Rakshasa Divine Intent within her.
The sinister will in the name of divine inheritence pulsed faintly in the depths of her consciousness. It had begun several months ago, subtle enough that even Bibi Dong had been caught off guard at many times. At times, it lay dormant.
Whispers soaked in malice, urging her to attack her own daughter, Qian Renxue.
Bibi Dong's fingers tightened slightly on the armrest of the throne.
She recalled the last time she had deliberately tried to inquire about her daughter's whereabouts. At that moment, the Rakshasa intent had surged violently, flooding her mind with murderous impulses. The desire to destroy had risen so suddenly that even she had been forced to suppress it with all her will.
A messenger knelt respectfully.
"Your Holiness," the messenger said, voice steady, "all participating teams for the Continental Elite Young Soul Master Tournament have arrived in Spirit City."
Bibi Dong's expression did not change.
"Good," she replied calmly, her voice echoing faintly through the vast hall.
"You may withdraw and begin all preparations according to plan."
The messenger bowed deeply and departed.
Several hours passed. Then, another piece of news reached Bibi Dong—delivered quietly.
Prince Xue Qinghe of the Heaven Dou Empire had also arrived in Spirit City, accompanying the participating teams.
And by his side—was a golden-haired attendant.
For a brief moment, the Rakshasa intent inside her trembled violently.
Bibi Dong's eyes narrowed imperceptibly.
Dong—
Dong—
The deep, solemn sound of bells rang through Spirit City, spreading from the heart of the Spirit Hall like rolling waves.
Soon after, streams of civilians began gathering at the Prayer Hall, their expressions reverent and devout.
At the center of the hall stood a towering cross-shaped monument.
It was carved from pale stone, its surface smooth and immaculate, etched with intricate golden lines that traced sacred patterns across its body. At its center rested an eye—half-open, half-shut—serene yet unfathomable, as if gazing upon both the mortal world and something far beyond it.
From behind the monument, twelve sculpted wings spread outward in perfect symmetry, vast and imposing, yet gentle, as though they could shield the world.
The monument radiated immense faith power, pure and sacred.
Today was sermon day, so civilians, and soul masters alike knelt or stood in orderly rows, their voices rose together in solemn recitation. The honored name of the Angel Goddess echoed repeatedly within the hall, each syllable carrying devotion, hope, and awe.
Many of the participating teams were already aware that today was the day of the Angel's Sermon. Out of respect—or caution—many soul masters of the teams chose to participate.
Some did so sincerely, heads bowed and expressions devout.
Others joined simply because they understood what the Angel Goddess symbolized: order, and the historical guardian of the continent.
Golden light filled the Prayer Hall as voices rose in unison.
However, among all the gathered teams, the Shrek Academy team did not participate.
They remained standing at a distance, observing silently.
Tang San stood at the front, his hands clasped behind his back, his gaze fixed on the towering monument of the cross and the half-open eye. His expression was calm, almost indifferent—yet beneath that calmness lay a cold sharpness.
'Just a dead goddess,' Tang San thought with quiet disdain.
'And the future one… is nothing remarkable either.'
His eyes flickered briefly, calculations forming rapidly in his mind.
'What surprises me is that there was no attack during our journey.'
From the moment they had left Heaven Dou, Tang San had been fully prepared. Bone Douluo and Sword Douluo were secretly following. His father—Tang Hao, finally cured of the poison—had also been nearby, suppressing his aura but ready to strike.
'I was prepared to finish off the two Titled Douluo of Spirit Hall along the way.'
The absence of ambush did not reassure him.Instead, it unsettled him.
'This further solidifies my hypothesis…'
'There may be a regressor within Spirit Hall.'
Ever since the incident involving Dai Mubai's attendant, Tang San's suspicions had taken root. Too many events had deviated from what he expected. He had already concluded one thing—
'If the regressor exists, their status cannot be too high.'
'Otherwise, I would not be left alive after Bibi Dong saw me last time.'
What Tang San did not know was that Tang Hao had been on edge since the moment he had glimpsed Eve travelling with them.
Tang Hao had deliberately restrained his aura ever since, suppressing his presence to the extreme.
He believed that Qian Daoliu might be nearby and protecting her. He had not forgotten the incident at Nuoding city.
The other Shrek Seven Monsters also remained still. No one moved toward the Prayer Hall. The sermon was not a forced event, and Spirit Hall had made no attempt to coerce participation. As such, no one openly questioned their choice.
Flander stood with his arms crossed, his expression firm. Liu Erlong remained beside him, Both supported the team's decision.
Only Yu Xiaogang was different.
He stood quietly, his gaze drifting past the Prayer Hall and toward the distant silhouette of the Pope's Hall. His brows were slightly furrowed, his thoughts unreadable.
As the sermon continued, the believers' voices gradually synchronized, forming a unified rhythm that resonated through the hall.
At that moment—
The monument's half-open eye pulsed.
Soft, invisible ripples spread outward, passing silently through the gathered crowd, through stone walls, and beyond the Prayer Hall itself.