The news of the Pope's death had already spread far and wide, and with the funeral drawing near, the streets of Spirit City were busier than ever.
Amid the crowd, a young girlnin a modest white dress and a hood walked quietly through the bustling central square. Her golden hair, carefully hidden beneath a veil, gleamed faintly in the sunlight that pierced through the clouds.
It was Qian Renxue, wandering in disguise. Behind her followed Wu Meng, silent as a shadow, always half a step behind.
To the casual eye, they looked like two ordinary travelers, yet Qian Renxue's eyes were calm, observant, filled with the quiet brilliance of calculation.
They stopped in front of a small street stall.
A puppeteer, gray-haired and cheerful, sat cross-legged beside a low stage made of rough planks. His hands moved skillfully, manipulating strings that made the dolls above the platform move like living people. The crowd of onlookers—mostly commoners—watched in fascination.
The style of the dolls caught Qian Renxue's attention: they were dressed in black, wielding a small wooden hammer. Its crude resemblance to Clear Sky Clan Soul masters was unmistakable.
Without thinking, Qian Renxue reached out and picked up the doll. The texture of the coarse fabric pressed against her fingers.
As if suddenly remembering something, the puppeteer coughed lightly and said,"Miss, could you please return the doll? It's part of the play."
Qian Renxue blinked, then handed it back. The puppeteer smiled kindly and hung it up again among the other twenty dolls in total, suspended by thin threads, swaying gently in the breeze.
Qian Renxue watched silently, her golden eyes glimmering beneath her hood.
"How many times have you played this story?" she asked quietly.
The puppeteer puffed up proudly."This play is called 'Justice of Spirit Hall', miss. It's the most loved one by the people of Spirit City! We have started to perform it since three days."
He gestured toward the dolls."You see, not long ago in a small town near Notting City, Tang Hao—the exiled madman from the Clear Sky Clan—destroyed a Spirit Hall branch on Martial Soul Awakening Day. He killed everyone: the deacon, the children, even the villagers who went to pray."
The man's voice turned grave, carrying the weight of rumor mixed with belief."At first, people thought such atrocities would go unpunished—after all, who can punish a powerful soul master? But the Titled Douluos of Spirit Hall brought justice. They hanged the elite disciples of the Clear Sky Clan at that very site. They even forced the new Clan Master to watch the execution."
" These dolls are the Soul masters of Clear Sky Clan which were hanged."
He pointed at the rows of dangling dolls."Here—they represent the guilty. Justice was served."
Qian Renxue's gaze lingered on the puppets.
Her lips parted, and she whispered,"Ninety-one souls… thirty-two children, forty-one servants, and eighteen of Spirit Hall's own people."
The puppeteer tilted his head."Hmm? Did you say something, miss?"
Qian Renxue shook her head faintly."No… nothing. Please continue your performance."
The puppeteer smiled and began moving his hands again. The dolls twitched, jerked, and danced—a miniature re-enactment of "justice" and "sin." The crowd clapped and cheered.
But Qian Renxue turned away, her expression unreadable.
Qian Renxue said quietly, her purple eyes gazing over the bustling streets below,"Spirit City has been crowded these days."
Wu Meng, who stood a respectful step behind her, nodded. "The Pope's funeral is scheduled in a week. Spirit Hall's declaration was sent to every corner of the continent. Many soul masters have arrived to pay their respects—or at least to be seen doing so."
Qian Renxue's expression didn't change, but her mind churned beneath that calm façade.'All of this… is built upon a lie'.
The so-called death of the Pope, is the biggest lie. Yet in the eyes of the commoners and wandering soul masters the event of mourning for the Pope's death, had become something real, a symbol of unity and faith.
Her gaze shifted to the crowds gathered near the Spirit Hall's outer square, banners fluttering like a tide of belief.
"All of them must be returning now," Qian Renxue said softly, turning slightly toward Wu Meng.
Wu Meng bowed slightly. "Yes, Young Master. The Angel Corps, along with Her Holiness Bibi Dong and Second Worshipper Golden Crocodile Douluo and other Titled Douluo, are expected to arrive by evening."
For a moment, the golden light of the setting sun reflected on Qian Renxue's hair as the veil fell down due to wind, making her appear almost divine. Yet within that glow was a subtle shadow—an unseen distance between her and the world she ruled from behind a mask.
She raised her head and looked at the sun sinking toward the horizon. "Let's go back," she said softly, her voice carrying both command and weariness. "We have to start the preparations."
Qian Renxue had already reached Level 60 due to her now cultivating faith energy with soul power. With vast amount of faith energy her speed never dropped.
The power of Dreamwalker had also digested, it was very easy for her to do this. She just needed to guide the powerful Titled Douluos in Elder Hall to dream. After some months the Dreamwalker was just as naturally digested by her.
Wu Meng inclined her head in acknowledgment, and together they turned away, their silhouettes fading into the glow of dusk as Spirit City continued its feverish pulse—unaware of the storm quietly forming at its heart.
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