Chapter 353: Spirit Hall II
"And one more thing," Dave said sharply, his voice dropping lower. "Don’t chase the title of Rakshasa God. That’s an evil god, tied to the Shura God’s corruption. It will consume you and twist everything you love into hatred."
Bibi Dong’s eyes flickered, a storm of emotions in them.
Dave reached into his storage ring and pulled out a blade—the Ocean Heart Azure Dragon Sword. The sapphire-blue edge shimmered with power, filling the chamber with a subtle, oppressive pressure.
"This is for you," Dave said, holding it out hilt-first. "When you’re strong enough, this blade can multiply your full strength by five to seven times—enough to stand against even gods. Keep it hidden. Use it only when there’s no other choice."
She stared at it for a long moment before taking it, her fingers brushing his. "Why... why are you doing this for me?"
"Because in the future you become someone I can’t save," Dave said quietly, his gaze steady. "And I want to change that. Maybe for you... maybe for me. But mostly because you didn’t deserve the fate you got."
She opened her mouth to speak, but the air around Dave began to shimmer—the Rewind Card’s time limit was nearly up.
"I’ll see you again," he promised. "And when I do, I hope you’re smiling—not drowning in darkness."
The last thing she saw before he vanished was the faint, confident smirk on his face.
Back to the Present
The clatter of the carriage wheels pulled Dave from his thoughts. He leaned back in his seat, eyes half-closed.
"I wonder..." he muttered. "Did she take my advice? Did anything change?"
The carriage slowed as it approached Spirit Hall City. Dave stood, straightening his coat, and stepped off the carriage into the bustling city.
What he didn’t know was that somewhere in the towering spires of the Spirit Hall, a certain Pope sat in her office, absently tracing the hilt of a sapphire-blue sword hidden in her desk—her eyes sharp, her aura colder than ice, and yet... just for a second, a smile tugged at her lips.
Ling Yuan was already waiting for him by the gates, her violet robes rippling in the breeze. She didn’t waste a second on pleasantries—just gave him that cool, assessing glance of hers.
"Finally, you’re here," she said, the faintest impatience in her tone.
Dave gave a casual shrug, like he hadn’t just stepped into one of the most dangerous power centers in the continent.
She shook her head slightly. "Well... come with me. The other elders are waiting."
Her heels clicked sharply against the polished white stone as she led the way through Spirit Hall’s grand entrance. Dave followed, hands in his pockets, taking in the cathedral-like arches, the shafts of golden light pouring through stained glass depicting angelic figures and battles long past.
They moved deeper into the sanctum until the air itself felt heavier with Spirit Hall’s authority. At the far end of the chamber, beneath a colossal angel statue whose wings swept toward the heavens, a old-aged man in ceremonial white was kneeling. His hair was streaked with silver, and in his hands, he held a long, gilded staff, its crystal top catching the light.
He was murmuring a prayer—low, steady, unwavering—as a pair of white-robed acolytes knelt beside him, heads bowed. The angel statue’s eyes seemed almost alive in the glow of the torches, the sanctity of the scene so intense it was almost oppressive.
Ling Yuan slowed her pace, her voice dropping into something between respect and awe.
"That... is the Great Worship," she said quietly, almost reverently. "The Ultimate Douluo of Sky—Qian Daoliu."
Dave’s eyes followed her gaze.
The old man stood before the massive angel statue, his posture straight despite his age. His robes shimmered faintly under the sunlight filtering through the grand hall’s stained glass, each step he took radiating an unshakable calm. In his hand, a golden staff tapped the marble floor in steady rhythm, like the heartbeat of the entire Spirit Hall.
Dave’s gaze flicked to the statue—an angel carved with such precision that its eyes seemed almost alive. Qian Daoliu stood there, head bowed, murmuring prayers so softly that the words dissolved into the air like incense smoke.
Even without releasing any spirit power, his presence was heavy. It pressed against the senses, a mountain of divine will that could crush any lesser soul master into silence.
Ling Yuan gave a small nod toward the center of the hall. "Come. The elders are gathered. He will join us soon."
Dave smirked faintly. "Seems like your ’ultimate’ doesn’t notice I’m here yet."
Ling Yuan shot him a warning glance. "Careful, Dave. In this place, even your jokes can echo in ways you don’t expect."
Dave only shrugged, following her deeper into the hall—his eyes still on the old man who, without looking up, seemed to know exactly where Dave was standing.
The great doors of the Worship Hall closed behind them with a resonant boom, sealing the sunlight outside.
Inside, the air was thick with the scent of incense and spirit energy so dense it almost shimmered in the air.
Dave followed Ling Yuan toward a long semicircle of high-backed chairs, each occupied by an elder whose aura spoke of decades—no, centuries—of cultivation. Their robes bore the insignia of Spirit Hall’s highest rank: the worship elders.
The first to catch Dave’s attention was a towering, broad-shouldered man whose skin gleamed faintly gold, even in shadow. His eyes were reptilian, cold yet calculating, and behind him loomed the illusory silhouette of a massive crocodile, its scales shining like sunlit metal.
"That," Ling Yuan whispered without looking at him, "is the Golden Crocodile Douluo—second only to the Great Worship himself."
Dave gave a small smirk. "Big guy. Bet he’s fun at parties."
The Golden Crocodile Douluo’s gaze flicked toward him, and Dave felt that reptilian will brush against his own spirit. A quiet challenge, unspoken but heavy.
Next, a man with proud, leonine features and a mane of silver-white hair rested his hands on the armrests of his chair, his gaze steady and unblinking.
"Mighty Lion Douluo," she whispered. "The Third Worship — no fortress stands after he roars."
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