Lin Feng hadn’t removed the dress all day, having succumbed to the women’s coercion. He had to admit—there was something uniquely liberating about feminine attire. The lightweight fabric danced with his movements like celestial ribbons, its silken texture whispering against his skin in ways his usual robes never did.
Before the mirror, the transformation was uncanny. The garments that should have clashed with his masculinity instead harmonized perfectly, creating an androgynous elegance. Hah! So much for that "once you crossdress you can’t go back" nonsense. He’d indulge them this once just to prove them wrong.
Qian Renxue and Ling Yuan’s restrained reactions to the Tang Hao revelation had surprised him. But upon reflection, it made perfect sense. What would raging accomplish? Unlike that useless Yu Xiaogang’s impotent fury, they maintained dignity—saving their wrath for the man himself. Though four years with him and Ling Yuan had softened some edges, the embers of vengeance still glowed in Qian Renxue’s heart.
After all, regardless of whether Tang Hao’s hammer blows were part of Qian Xunji’s scheme, the assault remained fact. Just as a mass murderer couldn’t atone through later suffering, Tang Hao couldn’t escape culpability in the former Pope’s demise. And strategically, eliminating the Clear Sky Clan’s remnants was inevitable. Lin Feng had never claimed sainthood—when interests conflicted, he’d always choose his own side. Hadn’t his cunning against Dugu Bo with Qian Renxue proven that?
Months changed little in Spirit City’s splendor. As the only metropolis independent from the empires, its architecture and materials surpassed all rivals. Since Lin Feng’s Innate Evolution Method spread, its reputation as the "Dream Capital" for soul masters solidified completely.
Under Bibi Dong’s leadership—bolstered by Lin Feng’s achievements—Spirit Hall’s prestige reached new heights. The recent emergence of several geniuses with thousand-year second rings at the academy only amplified the fervor. Everyone knew this unprecedented feat bore Lin Feng’s fingerprints.
Other factions watched with gnashing teeth. Opposing Spirit Hall now? Unthinkable. Not when Lin Feng held the keys to cultivation breakthroughs. Those privileged few with early access to his theories wouldn’t share secrets prematurely. The powerless resentment was almost pitiable—they couldn’t move against Spirit Hall without being torn apart by rivals first. Blocking others’ cultivation paths invited universal wrath.
"Greetings, Saint and Elder Ling Yuan!"
"So dashing, Saint! I’d—wait, is that eyeliner?"
Lin Feng’s finger discreetly wiped the lingering makeup. Damn Qian Renxue and her insistence on "authenticity." What was the point when it barely changed his appearance? He quickened his pace.
Qian Renxue teased, "How does it feel being the adored Saint? That long-legged girl seemed quite taken with you."
"Enough," Lin Feng sighed. "They don’t recognize you only because your status isn’t public. Why not announce you’re Spirit Hall’s heir? Future master of the Douluo Palace?"
Qian Renxue hesitated. "The elders and you knowing is enough. She... might not take it well." The fragile truce with Bibi Dong wasn’t worth risking. Her mother’s visceral hatred of her father—and even Grandfather’s occasional discomfort regarding him—suggested buried scandals best left unearthed.
As they reached the mountain path connecting the Pope’s and Douluo halls, a familiar fragrance announced Bibi Dong’s arrival. Her breathing sounded uncharacteristically ragged as she materialized beside them.
The Pope’s gaze locked onto the trio with terrifying intensity. Her lips pressed into a bloodless line as her worst suspicions confirmed themselves—Qian Renxue and Ling Yuan’s newfound radiance, the subtle but unmistakable aura of intimacy they carried. They’d crossed the line.
Eyes squeezed shut, Bibi Dong fought to contain the maelstrom within—fury, bitterness, despair. Her concealed hands trembled violently, nails biting deep into her palms.
"Your Holiness?" Lin Feng’s puzzled voice snapped her back.
When her eyes reopened, she kept them lowered to hide the storm within. How dare they! Did Qian Daoliu know? Approve? Was that old fool so desperate for great-grandchildren? The thought nearly made her choke. For original chapters go to novᴇlfire.net
"You... return early," she managed, voice uneven. "Have you completed your business abroad? Will you remain in Spirit City henceforth?"
She clung to Lin Feng’s own teaching—what’s past can’t be undone, but the future remains unwritten. Though the first taste was lost, she’d claim what followed. The thought of taking him from Qian Renxue’s arms carried its own dark thrill.
Lin Feng shook his head. "We came to gather forces. About the—" He froze. Had he never mentioned Gu Yuena to Bibi Dong? "Apologies, Your Holiness. This matter requires the Grand Worship’s counsel first."
Bibi Dong’s smile could have frozen lava. "Of course. I’ll await you here."
As they departed, her clenched fists finally relaxed, revealing crescent-shaped wounds oozing blood. A single crimson droplet struck the earth as she vanished—the only evidence of her anguish.