The moonlight shone gently across the Spirit Hall, casting white reflections to dance upon its gold-engraved towers and star-sprinkled motifs.
In its magnificent and ancient palace, there was a kingdom of silence like an endless darkness—broken only by the distant echo of footsteps, hushed but imperial, heralding the arrival of the supreme ruler here.
Bibi Dong, Spirit Hall Supreme Pontiff, moved with quiet confidence.
She embodied grace and power, her presence both enthralling and frightening on an even scale.
Her beauty was nothing short of mythic—like a goddess encased in mortal flesh.
Well past the age of thirty-five, she looked as radiant as a virgin twenty-year-old.
Smooth, unlined skin like fine porcelain glowed under the warm glow of spirit crystals.
Dark, cascading locks as black as a raven's wing spilled over her shoulders like wisps of smoke made of velvet.
Her amethyst-hued eyes, sharp and cold, were heavy with the burden of a thousand decisions—some harsh, some imperative.
She had on a black imperial robe richly embroidered with gilt thread forming ancient runes and mystical symbols of Spirit Hall.
On her slender neck, she had a red soul crystal pounding with accumulated energy.
Her crown, nine-pointed and purple-gold, rested solidly on her forehead—a symbol of absolute power.
She held in one hand a two-meter long sceptre, adorned with many glittering gemstones, each pulsating with a soft aura of pent-up power.
She paused before the broad double doors to her room, her hand stroking the intricate golden handles.
A deep breath.
Tonight, she had sought solitude from the endless rituals of governance.
She was tired — not just in body, but in spirit.
She pushed open the door.
Then—
BOOM!
The world shook.
Abruptly, a thunderous shockwave disturbed the stillness of night, the sky outside the Spirit Hall illuminating with unnatural light.
A deafening roar resounded from above as a rip in space itself tore open like a bleeding wound above her residence.
The chamber burst inwards.
Gilded windows blew apart in a rain of glass shards.
Ancient seals protecting the Supreme Pontiff's private quarters flared and cracked under the sheer pressure of the impact.
Debris flew.
Marble groaned.
A pillar collapsed.
Bibi Dong barely had a moment to invoke a protective shield when the ceiling above her chamber burst apart as if struck by divine wrath.
From the bloody rip in the sky, something fell — no, someone.
A firestorm-blast of melted gold descended from the heavens and hit the core of her apartment, leveling her extravagant jade bed to a cratersized pit of blackened stone and shattered wood.
Again the world shock, various power house in douluo continent were also stirred awake.
The blow hurled Bibi Dong backwards, robes fluttering like gust-tossed wings, crown falling like that of a child to the ground beside her.
And then — nothing.
Dust hung in the air.
Bibi Dong coughed once, blood on the corner of her lips as she pushed herself up, her eyes bulging in shock.
Servants nearby shrieked.
Guards burst in, swords raised, but no one dared approach the smoldering crater that now filled the middle of the Pontiff's sanctum.
The light faded gradually, inside the crater littered with wreckage, a body lay motionless.
— a man. No, a youth, hardly more than a young soul master in training.
He was out cold.
His chest was bare, chiseled like a statue of divine workmanship.
Muscles coiled like steel, skin kissed with a golden light that glowed faintly even amidst the ruins.
His raven-black hair was rumpled and wet, stuck to a forehead where there was a peculiar mark — an unfamiliar crest that throbbed with an otherworldly heat.
And following behind him, an unearthly imitation of galaxies and stars remained for a moment before vanishing — an ethereal echo of a far-off universe.
In his subconscious hand, a gentle glow burned — a small yellow sun, fist-sized, in a shimmering, unstable sphere of dimensional energy.
A pocket dimension torn open by cosmic force where the sun enters.
Bibi Dong remained frozen.
Before she could speak, the door behind her slammed open.
Guards, elders, and Spirit Masters poured in, dread written on their faces.
"Your Holiness!"
"We sustained something akin to a meteor blow!"
"Is it an assassin—?"
Voice of shock rang out behind her as the elite of the Spirit Hall flooded into the damaged chamber — Chrysanthemum Douluo, Ghost Douluo, even a few of the Elders.
They all stared, wide-eyed, as though they'd witnessed a god plummet from heaven.
"Your Holiness!" one of the seniors cried out, "Are you injured?"
"What… is that?" someone whispered.
"A soul beast? No… a spirit master? He has no spirit essence on him whatsoever," another declared, voice laced with confusion.
Their eyes focused on the body in the crater—and all voices dropped to silence.
No one moved.
Because they felt it too.
The air around the man pulsed with hidden power.
His dead body radiated heat unlike any fire they'd ever known—a heat that was living, like a sun contained within flesh.
One of the elders stumbled forward, attempting to sense the intruder with spirit sense.
The moment his spiritual energy touched the man's body, he recoiled with a shriek, nose bleeding, as if staring into the face of a storm.
"He's...what is he...," the man stuttered. "This energy—this presence—it's not soul power. It's something else entirely."
Bibi Dong did not answer immediately.
Her gaze was locked on the creature in the crater.
She moved a slow step forward, scepter thumping softly in warning.
The man was not moving.
But she could feel it.
The great reservoir of power within him, curled like a sleeping dragon.
"A dimensional rift." she grunted.
"But not one caused by any known power. Who—what—is he?"
Bibi Dong advanced, her eyes shining, heart pounding with equal amounts of anger and fascination.
"Prepare the sacred room. Seal the hall. No one is to speak a word of this beyond these walls," she commanded, her voice low and authoritative.
"But—"
"Silence," Bibi Dong snapped, eyes never wavering from the crater.
"Clear the room."
"But your highness
"I said OUT."
They obeyed grudgingly, all but one—Hu Liena, her most devoted disciple, who had burst in with wide eyes and a shocked expression.
"Teacher… what is he?"
Bibi Dong stepped forward, slowly lowering her scepter.
"I don't know."
She looked at the limp body again, her mind whirling like a storm.
Who are you…?
And why did the stars themselves send you crashing into my world?
To Be Continued...