For a week, Qian Renxue traveled like an ordinary person, just a young girl wandering the vast continent with her grandfather Qian Daoliu and the ever-shadowy Ghost Douluo. From town to city, village to market, they embraced the lives of a passersby.
They tasted regional delicacies: steamed buns filled with lotus paste in a small Town, fiery hotpot in the mountain province of Balak kingdom, and the sweet fermented rice wine from the riverside stalls . Qian Daoliu, dressed in a plain robe and straw hat, passed as an aging scholar. Ghost Douluo, in a shadow-cloaked disguise, followed at a respectful distance, like a forgotten wisp in the air.
To Qian Renxue, this was a rare reprieve.
....
One afternoon, after an extended shopping trip through the silk markets of RuoLing Town, Qian Renxue stepped out of a boutique holding a delicate hair ornament, a crescent moon carved from pale jade.
Just then, Ghost Douluo materialized silently in front of Qian Daoliu, kneeling as he handed over a sealed scroll. His usually impassive face wore a trace of tension.
Qian Daoliu broke the seal and scanned the document. The lines between his brows deepened.
Noticing the shift in his expression, Qian Renxue walked over, concern etched on her face. “What’s wrong, Grandfather?”
Qian Daoliu folded the scroll carefully. “Nothing important,” he said, though his voice was tight. “But I may need to interfere in a certain matter. Renxue, we might have to cut our vacation short.”
Her eyes widened, and she immediately puffed up like an indignant child. “No! Why should my vacation be cut short just because you have work?”
Qian Daoliu gave her a look. “Be good, Renxue.”
But she didn’t stop. “That’s not fair. I’ve done everything you asked of me. Don’t I deserve a little time for myself?”
Then, with theatrical flair, she made a crying face, turning dramatically toward Ghost Douluo. “Besides, you’re not going alone. Just leave Ghost Douluo with me if you’re worried about my safety!”
Ghost Douluo, caught in the middle, remained absolutely still, as if pretending to merge with the background.
Qian Daoliu opened his mouth, then paused. He looked at his granddaughter, her stubborn pout, her tightly clenched fingers around the jade hairpin, the childlike spark of rebellion in her purple eyes. He sighed and finally relented.
Qian Daoliu sighed and turned toward Ghost Douluo. His tone was firm but weary.
“Make a detailed report of her activities. I want it weekly.”
Then, recalling Winter City incident involving the Fifth Worshipper, Guangling Douluo, he added with a hint of warning,
“And remember, you are here to protect her. Don’t get instigated by her words.”
Ghost Douluo gave a silent nod, while Qian Renxue rolled her eyes in her mind .
Qian Daoliu then turned to his granddaughter. His expression, so often unreadable, softened just slightly.
“Take care of yourself, Renxue. And try not to be too naughty.”
“Yes, Grandfather,” Qian Renxue replied, her purple eyes clear and calm.
Without another word, Qian Daoliu soared into the sky, his figure vanishing like a streak of light in the clouds. The force of his departure rustled nearby flags and sent a momentary hush through the bustling street.
....
Qian Renxue stood still for a moment, watching the trail of wind left behind. She didn’t sigh or frown. Her expression didn’t change in the slightest. Then, as if nothing had happened, she turned and walked into a nearby restaurant, one that was known more for discretion than cuisine.
Ghost Douluo followed her like a shadow, silently taking his place a few steps behind.
As they sat down at a quiet corner table, Qian Renxue casually picked up the menu while smiling.
Then she spoke without looking up.
“Looks like the corrupt officials mistakenly targeted the immortal herbs I left behind for Shi Ming.”
Ghost Douluo stiffened. Her voice was light, almost amused, but to him, it was chilling.
She smiled then. A faint curve of her lips, cold as winter wind.
“I think Fourth Grandfather must have beaten Demon Bear Douluo half to death by now.”
The back of Ghost Douluo’s neck went cold. That was exactly what had happened.
‘How… how did she know that? Did she orchestrate the whole thing?’
A bead of sweat rolled down his back.
‘If she used the Order of Hermit to set this trap… when did she even get the chance? I am an elder but even I did not receive any signs or whispers. How did this happen?’
As if she could hear the storm of suspicion raging inside him, Qian Renxue gently laid down her cup of tea and said, almost lazily,
“Don’t fret over it so much, Uncle Ghost.”
The older Titled Douluo straightened stiffly. “Understood.”
He didn’t dare say anything more.
He sat with her in silence as she browsed the menu, smiling like a girl enjoying her meal.
From the tall wooden window behind her, a shaft of golden sunlight filtered in, falling directly onto Qian Renxue’s form.
It lit her face softly, illuminating the smooth contours of her cheek, her long lashes, and the strands of her blonde hair that shimmered like molten gold. The halo of light made her look like a sacred painting come to life, a celestial being descending for a quiet lunch.
But the contrast was unnerving.
Because the girl bathed in that holy glow wore a smile that didn’t warm the heart, it chilled the spine.
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So what do you think Qian Renxue has done?
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