When Hu Liena gently placed the exquisitely arranged meal—one dish, one soup, one dessert—before Bibi Dong…
For her, the world instantly dimmed.
All colors faded.
Only the three servings before her emitted a soft, dreamlike glow.
Even the dignity she had just lost—shattered and trampled upon—faded from her mind.
Even the stabbing pain in her divine soul was pushed aside.
Her gaze was firmly, irresistibly drawn to—
That bowl of rich, milky-white meat soup.
The broth shimmered softly, steam rising like drifting clouds.
Translucent pieces of meat floated within, tender and unreal, as though crafted by the divine.
As if controlled by an invisible force, Bibi Dong reached out.
Her jade fingertips trembled slightly as they gripped the silver spoon.
She dipped it gently. The spoonful of broth rippled, and the aroma lifted with the steam—alive, penetrating the deepest part of her wounded soul.
Her crimson lips parted slightly.
She blew softly on the heat—an action so gentle, so delicate, that it looked foreign on her.
Then—
She tasted it.
Boom!!!
Time… stopped.
An indescribable, unfathomable warmth burst across her tongue—like the first ray of light tearing through the primordial darkness.
That warmth slid down her throat.
It did not become spirit power.
It did not heal her wounds.
It was simply—
Warmth.
A warmth so pure it could thaw glaciers.
A warmth that wrapped gently around the heart she had sealed behind layers of hatred and frost.
Bibi Dong froze.
Her mind didn't conjure memories.
No burning villages.
No Qian Xunji's repulsive face.
No Yu Xiaogang's cold back as he left her behind.
Those pains—those heavy, suffocating shadows of her life—
All were nothing before this warmth.
All dimmed.
All shrank.
That spoonful of soup—
Was the only point of light in her eternal darkness.
The first pair of hands extended toward her since the world abandoned her.
The first warm sun after she'd been sinking endlessly in the abyss.
Drip.
A clear tear slid from her eyes and struck her Supreme Pontiff's robe, blooming into a dark stain.
Then—
The second tear.
The third.
She cried.
The Supreme Pontiff of Spirit Hall—
The woman whose single command shook the continent—
The inheritor of Rakshasa's godhood—
Wept silently…
because of a spoonful of soup.
Her body trembled, not from fear, not from anger—
But from a deep, soul-level confusion and grievance.
Why?
Why is it so warm?
Why does it feel like the world is finally treating me gently?
She tried desperately to stop the tears.
To cling to her dignity.
But they fell—
Like pearls spilling from a broken string.
In this moment, she was not the Pope.
Not the Rakshasa God's inheritor.
She was merely—
A lonely person who had walked in darkness too long,
A woman who had forgotten what light felt like,
Yet had her entire world illuminated by a single spoonful of soup.
Only now did she understand.
This taste—
This long-lost taste—
Was what she had pursued all her life…
and personally destroyed.
The taste called—
Happiness.
Ghost Douluo, Chrysanthemum Douluo, and the others watched her greedily scoop spoon after spoon, tears streaming silently—
Their fanatic expressions gradually softened into pity, reverence, and calm.
Look.
Another lost soul, cleansed under the senior's divine grace.
The compassion of gods truly blankets all living beings.
But to Gold Crocodile Douluo and the Worship Hall's Elders—
This scene was no ordinary revelation.
It was—
A cataclysm.
This vicious woman—
This iron-blooded Pope—
This woman who valued power more than life, who dared kill even her own flesh and blood—
Was crying?
And not from pain.
But from a bowl of soup.
Their worlds shook.
Their beliefs trembled.
Their gazes were irresistibly drawn to the dishes before Bibi Dong.
That single bowl of meat soup—
Just what heaven-defying power did it contain?
Waiting for their own portions of "divine grace" became pure agony.
When Hu Liena finally placed their meals before them—
Ordinary-looking dishes, yet each containing a universe—
The rich aroma struck them violently.
No—
That wasn't a smell.
It was a vibration,
A pure life-rhythm,
A call from the essence of the world itself.
Their nerves, stretched taut to the limit, snapped instantly.
They no longer cared for their thousand years of dignity.
They no longer cared for the calm of a Super Douluo rank 98.
They reached out simultaneously—
Hands moving so fast they left afterimages—
Each grabbing the dish nearest them.
Gold Crocodile Douluo lifted a translucent, gemstone-like piece of meat.
His massive hand—capable of crushing mountains—trembled ever so slightly.
He stared at the meat.
As if trying to pierce through it—
through the fibers, the marrow, the essence—
But it remained unfathomable.
This piece of meat—
Was like the Dao.
Any divine sense probing into it was like a cow sinking into the sea—vanishing instantly.
At last,
His reasoning collapsed entirely beneath the soul-deep hunger.
He opened his mouth—
And with reverence fitting a sacred ritual—
Placed the meat inside.
The moment it touched his tongue—
Boom—
His entire soul detonated with flavor.
No—
Calling it "delicious" was blasphemy.
This was—
Revelation.
Gold Crocodile Douluo's cloudy old eyes turned bloodshot.
He no longer cared about decorum.
No longer cared about rank or image.
He looked like a starving beast awakened after millennia, staring madly at the remaining food.
Grab.
Eat.
Swallow.
Devour.
This was his only thought.
Azure Luan Douluo, Light Feather Douluo, even Demon Subduing Douluo—
All fell into the same frenzied state.
Grease smeared their mouths.
They devoured food like a storm, worse than beggars on the roadside.
No longer Super Douluo.
No longer revered Elders.
They were beasts.
Beasts driven by primal instinct, stripped of all dignity under divine grace.
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