Qian Renxue waved a hand dramatically, feigning helplessness. "Don't make it sound so cheap. I'm merely giving you the opportunity to become the Angel Goddess in my place — along with the Angel Sacred Armor, of course."
Eve gave a short laugh, clearly unconvinced. "Just moments ago, Grandfather said that only with the Angel Martial Soul , the Seraphim can these bones fully fuse into the sacred armor. So unless…" She trailed off, eyes narrowing as realization dawned. "Your martial soul is… mutated, isn't it?"
"Yes."
Qian Renxue's voice was calm, almost serene, but her eyes shimmered
"So It's practically useless to me. No one knows whether these bones will even merge properly with my martial soul."
She paused, tapping her chin thoughtfully. "Besides, with the peculiarity of my Martial Soul, it's too risky."
Eve watched her in silence for a moment, then smiled knowingly. "So you want me to go absorb them. Even if I end up ascending as the Angel Goddess, the power would still be yours."
Qian Renxue's lips curled into a slow, knowing smile. "Exactly. Whether it's you or me, the one who ascends will still be me Qian Renxue."
Eve gave a small, theatrical sigh and unfolded her fan again. "You're a real piece of work, you know that?"
Qian Renxue only smiled wider.
Then, with a shimmer of light, Eve began the absorption. The divine bones trembled faintly as threads of golden radiance wove into her body. Her veins glowed faintly beneath her pale skin, the air thick with divine energy.
However, the process soon turned violent. The golden light twisted, turning erratic — as if something deep inside Eve's body was resisting the fusion. A faint purple-black aura began to rise from her back, clashing with the divine light.
After a long while, Eve gasped and collapsed to one knee. Two bones — the Angel's Skull Bone and the Right Arm Bone — had successfully fused.
Eve's eyes flickered open. A faint halo of disguise-like energy rippled across her features — her body subtly reshaping, her aura shifting.
"The Angel's Skull Bone…" she whispered. "It grants the ability to disguise oneself — body, spirit, and even martial soul. But it's weaker than your third soul skill."
She flexed her right arm, summoning a translucent golden shield. "And the Right Arm Bone gives me the Angel's Wing. A defensive field that can deflect even high-tier attacks. Not bad."
Rising to her feet, she looked at Qian Renxue with an almost playful glare. "Done. But really — even if this body is weak, I thought you'd at least help me with the rest."
Qian Renxue shrugged, leaning back on her chair. "I was going to. But as soon as you started, I sensed it — the faint Rakhshasa taint in your soul reacted violently to the Angel energy."
Her voice turned cold and analytical. "It confirms what I suspected — the Rakhshasa God and the Asura God are working together. They're trying to control the balance of divine inheritance… and me. They don't want me to grow too strong too fast. They've chosen me as the whetstone for someone else's rise."
Her expression darkened, purple eyes gleaming like molten metal. "It also explains why Bibi Dong's strength has barely advanced in recent years. The Rakhshasa trials must have been restricted intentionally."
Eve twirled her fan lazily, her expression unreadable. "So… what are you going to do now?"
Qian Renxue's lips curved into a sharp smile. "Isn't it obvious?"
"Heh… heheheh…"
----
Few days later
The grand Pope's Hall of Spirit City was silent. Light from the stained glass windows spilled across the marble floor.
The heavy doors opened with a sharp creak, and a messenger hurried in, dropping to one knee."Your Holiness, the young master has left."
Seated upon the high throne, Bibi Dong appeared serene in her majestic papal robes of violet, her crown gleaming faintly under the morning light. Yet the moment the words left the messenger's lips, something flickered in her eyes, a brief, almost imperceptible tremor of emotion.
She waved a slender hand. "You may leave."
The messenger bowed deeply and retreated. One by one, the attendants, guards, and priests filed out of the vast hall until only the echo of their departing footsteps remained.
The enormous doors closed with a dull thud, and silence swallowed the chamber whole.
Bibi Dong's posture slumped ever so slightly. The weight of the crown, the robes, and the title seemed to press her down into the throne. Her voice, when it came, was fragile — softer than a whisper.
"Renxue… when will I see you again?"
Her hand reached forward unconsciously, brushing against the armrest of the throne as though trying to touch something far away — a memory, a child's hand that once sought hers. But that warmth had long since turned to frost.
She knew the mission her daughter was undertaking. To infiltrate the Heaven Dou Empire, live under a false identity, and slowly ascend to the throne. A mission that might last years… perhaps even a lifetime.
Her breath trembled.
But then — something else stirred.
From the depths of her spirit sea, a whisper rose , cold, mocking, and dripping with venom. The air around her thickened as tendrils of purple-black aura began to coil upward from her body like living smoke.
"Isn't it perfect?"
"Didn't you plan that she wastes away her talent away from the Spirit Hall, now why the sudden tenderness"
The voice continued.
"With her out of the way, you can finally consolidate all the power of Spirit Hall. Without her presence, without the shadow of the Angel bloodline hanging above you… everything will belong to you alone."
The Rakhshasa's dark intent slithered through her mind, its whispers laced with sweet poison.
"Your revenge is not complete, is it?"
Then Bibi Dong recalled that Qian Xunji is still alive all because of the deal she made with Qian Renxue.
Bibi Dong's hands clenched tightly around the golden armrest until the wood cracked beneath her grip.
"Enough…" she whispered hoarsely, her voice trembling.
The dark aura pulsed , one last attempt to consume her , before retreating back into her body. The hall fell silent once more, leaving only the faint smell of iron and incense in the air.
Bibi Dong sat slumped upon the Pope's throne, her skin glistening with cold sweat. Her eyes were filled with pain and regret buried under years of rage.