(Author Notes: Readers might have been confused about Qian Daoliu's return back to Spirit Hall. The following chapters will explore what had happened)
The wheels of the carriage clattered against the stone-paved road, carrying Qian Renxue ever closer to the Spirit City. Her thoughts wandered back to the recent months filled with upheavals, small shifts of power, and the tightening of invisible threads that she herself had tugged upon.
Spirit Hall was no longer quite the same as before Qian Daoliu returned back. His return had been like a storm sweeping across calm waters. But in those undercurrents, Qian Renxue's influence was the biggest reasons the seemingly calm waters of Spirit Hall were now churning.
All the changes in Spirit Hall was reported back to her—through Ghost Douluo.
Her lips curled faintly as she recalled the encounters between her father, Qian Xunji, and her grandfather, Qian Daoliu. She had seen her father more often these previous years than she had seen Bibi Dong. But not because he sought her out, not once had he come to her out of paternal care. No, it was only because Qian Daoliu had summoned him to the Elder Hall, only to berate him.
The memory was vivid: her grandfather's thunderous voice echoing through the hall.
"You are the Pope!" Qian Daoliu's tone had been sharp enough to cut. "How can a mistake like this happen under your watch?"
Her father had bowed his head, silent, his expression stiff yet subdued, the weight of his father's authority pressing him down like a mountain.
Qian Renxue had watched that scene from the shadows, and in that moment, she had seen through the man. Qian Xunji was not a fool—no, he was dangerous in his own way. He was someone who would stop at nothing to reach his objectives, unflinching whether the means were fair or despicable. His reign as Pope had been one of unchecked authority, where Spirit Hall extended its claws and fangs over the continent. And the atrocities committed in his name…were beautifully covered up in the name of corruption. So Qian Xunji was hiding behind two layers of shield.
Her gaze grew cold as she remembered the details she had quietly pieced together after combining the information from the members of Twilight Hermit that she had recruited. Chrysanthemum Douluo, Ghost Douluo were her father's executioners.
In the novel, many had pointed towards Spirit Hall committing certain atrocities, these were not exaggerations from enemies of Spirit Hall, but truths she had verified herself. Her father had given the order, and the two Douluo had carried them out without hesitation.
Sitting opposite her in the carriage, was Ghost Douluo. His pale face was hidden beneath the cowl of his robe, but she could feel his presence, sharp and cold like a blade in the dark. He had always been like that—difficult to read, yet utterly reliable when needed.
Qian Renxue broke the silence, her tone casual yet edged with steel.
"Uncle Ghost, tell me—what punishment do you think awaits you? After all, your sins were not forgotten. They were only… postponed. If not for the sake of making you my traveling companion, you would have already been judged by Grandfather, wouldn't you?"
For a heartbeat, the carriage filled with only the sound of wheels grinding over stone. Then, Ghost Douluo gave a low chuckle.
"Heh. Punishment…" His voice was rasping, like whispers leaking from the grave. "Yes, I will receive it, as I should."
Qian Renxue tilted her head, studying him. The words were ambiguous, but that was Ghost Douluo's nature: a man who lived between shadows and truths.
He knew that while he had carried out dark and cruel deeds at the Pope's command, his record was far from damning. For every shadowy mission, there were also countless meritorious services he had rendered for Spirit Hall. He was certain that Qian Daoliu, a man of stern principles but fair judgment, would not punish him too harshly.
Qian Daoliu, after all, was someone whose entire existence was governed by promises and responsibility. Though he had withdrawn into the Elder Hall after his retirement as Supreme Pontiff, claiming to have washed his hands of worldly affairs, Qian Renxue knew it was not so simple.
To the outside, he was just a stubborn old man, rigid, upright, seemingly detached from power struggles. But to those who understood him, Qian Daoliu was like a an otaku—secluded, detached from mundane duties, but clinging obsessively to his ironclad values and personal codes.
It was this very rigidness that her father, Qian Xunji, had learned to exploit. Qian Renxue had recently realized something subtle yet profound: her father was far more cunning than she initially believed.
Qian Xunji had deliberately crafted an image of himself as a flawed yet dutiful son. He kept the great matters of Spirit Hall hidden and sealed, while intentionally allowing small mistakes to slip through—miscalculations, lapses, or "careless blunders." In truth, they were carefully placed bait. Each time, Qian Daoliu would scold him harshly, believing he was correcting and disciplining his son.
And that was the genius of it, by receiving scolding for superficial mistakes, Qian Xunji diverted suspicion away from the true matters he wished to conceal. To Qian Daoliu, these errors reinforced the illusion that he was still needed, still fulfilling his role as elder and father.
When Qian Renxue uncovered this layer of deception, her view of Qian Xunji shifted. For the first time, she thought,
' Qian Xunji is intelligent, crafty, and capable of weaving appearances so deeply that even Grandfather is pacified.'