There was silence as it felt nothing changed.
The candles flickered once, but only because of a faint draft from the ventilation slits.
Ning Fengzhi slowly opened his eyes.
His eyes soon began to feel unbearably heavy.
His eyelids drooped against his will.
He tried to keep them open, biting the inside of his cheek, forcing his spirit to stay alert.
Yet the more he resisted, the heavier they became. A warm, irresistible drowsiness wrapped around him.
The candles blurred into streaks of orange and gold in his eyes
And then— Darkness.
---
When Ning Fengzhi opened his eyes…
He was no longer in the secret room.
Instead—
He stood ankle-deep in clear, glass-like water.
The water reflected the sky above so perfectly that it felt like he stood between two heavens.
An endless blue sky stretched above him, gentle and calm.
The air was warm and carried a faint floral fragrance, one he couldn’t identify.
It was soothing, peaceful… almost intoxicating.
His chest lightened as his spirit felt free, unbound by worldly burdens.
A place like this should not exist.
However the middle of this tranquil expanse, something stood out sharply against the endlessness.
A solitary table, with two chairs. One side empty—clearly meant for him.
The other occupied by a figure whose entire appearance was blurred, as if cloaked in a veil of shifting light.
He couldn’t discern her face, hair, body, or even height.
Everything about her was indistinct, like an unfinished painting.
And yet—
Her presence radiated authority so overwhelming that Ning Fengzhi instinctively lowered his gaze.
Then—
A voice drifted across the water, soft and Ethereal and layered with so many resonant tones that it felt like multiple people spoke through a single throat.
“Ning Fengzhi, you have tried so hard to pray to Me.”
“Why don’t you come and have a conversation?”
His breath caught. It all clicked at once in his mind.
He gulped, trying to steady himself.
‘The Angel Goddess! The prayer can truly call upon the Angel Goddess!’
The blurred figure’s head shifted slightly—an unmistakable gesture of mild amusement.
“Yes. The prayer can.”
The calm certainty in her tone sent a chill through him.
Ning Fengzhi stiffened.
“You… can read my thoughts.”
The figure moved minutely, and although her face couldn’t be seen, Ning Fengzhi felt she had tilted her head as if questioning his intelligence.
“Why do you think,” she replied lightly, “that anything you think would be hidden from Me?”
His heart thudded violently.
Does she knows… every secret…’
He closed his eyes briefly, steadying his heartbeat, trying to quiet the storm inside his mind.
Then, he forced a polite, composed smile onto his face—the smile he used at diplomatic banquets, at political tables, at clan meetings.
He stepped forward. The water rippled gently under his feet but did not wet his robes.
He reached the table while straightening his posture.
And slowly—and carefully—he took a seat.
Trying hard to look unbothered as if he were sitting opposite another clan chief, not a deity who could peel apart his mind like opening a book.
Then he tried to peer through the swirling veil of mist, to try to gaze at the—face of the being sitting across the table.
But the more he tried to focus, the more his head throbbed.
The figure of light and fog spoke again, voice drifting like soft chimes:
“Do not try to see me, mortal. It is for your own protection.”
“Your mortal mind cannot comprehend my existence. Push further, and your spirit will implode upon itself.”
Ning Fengzhi froze. Every strand of his hair stood on end. Cold sweat ran down his spine.
Only now did it truly hit him—He was speaking to a God.
He lowered his gaze in respect, inhaling deeply to steady himself.
When he finally spoke, his voice trembled despite his efforts.
“Goddess… what do you wish of me? Are You the true master behind the Twilight Hermit Order? Or… the Spirit Hall?”
For a moment, the misted silhouette remained still.
Then—
A faint, amused breath escaped from the blurred figure.
“It is not I who brought you here, Ning Fengzhi.”
“You prayed. I answered.”
Her tone was calm, yet carried an irrefutable truth.
“And tell me… how much do you think a mortal organisation matters to Me?”
Her words hit him like cold water, wiping away his assumptions.
A God—if she truly was one—would not care about sect politics or mortal struggles.
Ning Fengzhi exhaled slowly, bitterly.
The pain buried in the hearts of countless clan leaders surfaced.
“I believe the Goddess already knows… The Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Pagoda’s innate defect has plagued our clan for generations. No matter how talented we are, we can never reach beyond Soul Sage.”
“The Nine Treasure Glazed Tile Pagoda… remains but a distant dream. One we have no means to grasp.”
Silence.The figure did not respond immediately.
Then—
“You understand much, Clan Leader Ning.”
Her voice was softer now. Almost… empathetic.
“However what you don’t know is that —the Douluo Continent will soon face a turmoil unlike any seen in thousands of years.”
Ning Fengzhi’s breath caught.
‘A prophecy.’
From the Goddess’ own lips.
‘A great upheaval… even she acknowledges it… If the world descends into chaos… what will become of the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Clan?’
The blurred Goddess continued:
“The Spirit Hall, The Twilight Hermit Order, The Great Clans, The Heaven Dou and Star Luo Empires…”
“All shall take their parts in the chaos to come.”
Her words grew more diffuse—
as though the dreamscape itself was shifting.
Ning Fengzhi blinked; the edges of his vision blurred.
Her voice drifted, echoing:
“You must breathe in the stamen…Let the medicinal essence merge with your bones and spirit. Let it guide the radiance of the sun and moon into your martial soul…”
The instructions felt ancient, mystical whispered into his ear.
He staggered as the sky above flickered.
His consciousness dimmed.
Just before his vision faded entirely—He heard her final words.
“If you wish to truly become My blessed one, Ning Fengzhi…You must do more. Much more. And impress Me.”
Then darkness swallowed him, once again.
----
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