In Gold Crocodile Douluo's mind, a nightmarish scene—one that made his very DNA riot—rose uncontrollably:
Bibi Dong, wearing a solemn expression, softly shouted:
"Spirit Assimilation!"
Then—
Puff!
Her entire body transformed into a huge, prehistoric, wriggling, glistening fat maggot.
That thing even had Bibi Dong's face on it.
And it winked at him.
"Ugh—!!"
He couldn't stop it.
He couldn't hold it in.
Gold Crocodile Douluo's stomach churned violently.
But since he had already vomited all his bile… he could now only dry heave, heart and soul collapsing.
Senior! Please—be a human!
I'm begging you—be a proper human!
Thud!
Lion Douluo's knees gave out as he dropped in front of Bibi Dong.
With snot and tears flowing, he clung to Thousand Jun Douluo's thigh like a three-hundred-pound toddler.
"Your Holiness! Have mercy!"
"Please don't assimilate! I beg you!"
"My stomach… has nothing left to throw up!!"
Thousand Jun Douluo's face was deathly pale.
His lips trembled, but he couldn't push Lion Douluo away—his legs were shaking too badly, like he had advanced-stage Parkinson's.
"Your Holiness… please reconsider… If I see that again, I'll… I'll follow the Angel God straight to the afterlife…"
But Bibi Dong paid no attention to this choir of drama-addicted elders.
Her mind was filled entirely with the image of Senior's cool, jointed fingers…
And the two perfect Spirits sculpted personally by his hands.
Shameful?
Yes.
But the sense of power, confidence, and perfection far outweighed the embarrassment.
She slowly closed her eyes.
Her red lips parted.
Her voice trembled slightly—though even she didn't notice it.
"Spirit Assimilation."
Buzz—!
A cold, silent, noble divine pressure swept across the restaurant.
An intricate Gothic gown enveloped her flawless figure.
A pure black ribbon covered her eyes—aloof, elegant, divine.
She stood quietly, untouched by dust, like the monarch who commanded the end of all things.
Sacred.
Distant.
Untouchable.
The Titled Douluos who had been crying like widows moments ago—
Instantly fell silent.
The restaurant froze.
Every pair of eyes widened.
Every mouth dropped open.
A collective system crash.
Only after more than ten seconds—
"Hoo—…"
A long exhale burst from Gold Crocodile Douluo.
Then a wave of relieved gasps.
Everyone looked like they'd been fished out of a lake— drenched in sweat, breathing hard, grateful to be alive.
"It's… not a maggot…"
Lion Douluo collapsed to the floor.
"Thank heavens… thank heavens… my eyes survived…"
The other Titled Douluos nodded desperately.
It was good to be alive.
Amid this peaceful, grateful atmosphere—
A crisp voice suddenly rang out:
"Wow!"
Light Feather Douluo's deep-blue eyes sparkled like stars.
"Her Holiness… looks beautiful now!"
The room fell completely silent.
Only then did everyone remember—
And turn stiffly toward Bibi Dong again.
And then—
They all turned to stone.
Beautiful?
How could this be described with something as tiny as "beautiful"?!
This was a dimensionality reduction attack!
This was beauty itself slamming into their faces!
That figure.
That aura.
That cold, noble divinity.
Especially the black ribbon over her eyes—it didn't hide her beauty at all.
It intensified it.
Made her mysterious.
Lethal.
Ascetic.
Yet deadly seductive.
Who could resist that?!
Gold Crocodile Douluo, who had just regained youth, clutched his chest.
His rejuvenated heart beat wildly—faster than when he saw his first love decades ago.
It's over.
His Dao heart was unstable.
Ghost Douluo straightened his back, adjusting his expensive robe.
His usually calm eyes gleamed with professional appreciation—
The kind a top-tier beauty streamer used when appraising another super-streamer.
Absolutely no impurities.
Pure professionalism.
This modeling.
This rendering.
This aura.
He admitted it—it was god-tier.
But—
Beside him, Chrysanthemum Douluo let out a cold, disdainful snort.
"Hmph."
It wasn't loud.
But the sour vinegar in it could kill a Spirit Beast from eight hundred miles away.
Ghost Douluo froze.
Right.
He forgot that the guy next to him was a walking vinegar jar.
He quickly elbowed him, shooting frantic warning glances.
Bibi Dong ignored them.
She gently curled her fingers.
An unprecedented sense of perfection—absolute synchronization between Spirit and body—spread through her.
No discomfort.
No awkwardness.
This "Goddess of Death" Spirit felt like it was born from her soul itself.
Too perfect.
Too natural.
Her heart surged with joy.
And she instinctively wanted to look back at Lin Feng—
But in the next moment—
Her mind replayed the Mental Sea scene.
Those hands…
On her body—
No! Bah!
They were "Spirit sculpting operations!"
High-difficulty shaping techniques!
Boom!
Bibi Dong's cold, divine face flushed instantly—from her delicate neck to her ears.
That waistline… was the curve Senior kneaded out inch by inch.
That perky fullness… was molded by his entire palm.
Those long legs wrapped in black ribbon…
And she had now assimilated with the Spirit form.
Didn't that basically mean—
that her entire being had been—
Touched?
Crafted?
Molded by Senior's hands?!
Her jade-like legs trembled.
Maintaining her aloof goddess aura, her long legs unconsciously pressed together beneath her skirt—
Rubbing lightly.
Twice.
An unintentional display of shyness.
All the elders' old faces instantly turned red.
Their eyes darted away.
The emotional whiplash—
from mentally scarring fat maggot
to breathtakingly shy goddess—
was stronger than drinking ten pounds of counterfeit alcohol.
Every hardened warrior's maiden heart was shattered into glitter.
Silence filled the restaurant.
One could hear a pin drop.
The sacred, alluring atmosphere rose to its peak—
When suddenly—
"Burp~!"
A long, satisfied belch echoed across the room.
Like thunder on a clear day.
All the pink bubbles—shyness, awe, reverence, ambiguous tension—all shattered instantly.
_____________________
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