Boom.
The steady calm of Shenyan Hall's grand opening unraveled the instant Subei's gaze swept across the audience. It wasn't just a look—it was a nuclear strike detonating on the hearts of women.
In that moment, beauty became chaos.
The crowd of girls and noblewomen burst into trembling excitement. Faces flushed crimson, breath quickened, and the tide of yearning overflowed like floodwaters against a fragile dam.
Frenzy Outside the Hall
"Land! Quick, buy land near Shenyan Palace!" shouted one noblewoman, golden hair tangled with madness. "If I can't see him for a day, I'll go mad! Better to live next door forever!"
Another slammed down a check. "One hundred thousand gold soul coins straight for Shenyan Palace! Just allow me to hug His Highness once! Just once!"
Palace attendants swayed under the sudden avalanche of bribes. Yet they stood firm, answering in clipped tones.
"I am sorry," said Gong N, one of the palace officials. Her expression never wavered. "His Highness is not someone one may touch at whim. Audience with Lord Shenyan requires passing our exclusive Face Appraisal. Only those whose beauty meets Hall standards will earn the right to approach."
She pocketed the check with flawless efficiency. "The donation is accepted. May prosperity and flowers bless your household."
Women gasped. "Face appraisal?!"
"Yes," Gong Yi later announced crisply. "This palace is dedicated to divine beauty. To approach His Highness, one must meet the standards of beauty's law."
The words ignited a different war entirely.
"My face will pass!" one woman cried.
"Ridiculous. Your eyelids are fake," another sneered, claws rising. "Plastic ugliness could never qualify. Step aside and let natural beauty shine."
"You're darker than the winter solstice, how dare you call me ugly?"
Suddenly, dozens—hundreds of women—clawed, pinched, scratched, and tore. Hair pulled, clothes ripped, screams bursting. Even Snowy White Rabbits escaped garments, bouncing in scandalous display.
Men in the Audience
Men stared with slack jaws. Those dragged along by wives and mothers found themselves hypnotized by a vast female brawl. Some munched on food, cheering like spectators at a coliseum.
"Hundreds of women fighting at once—brother, this is the greatest trip of my life!"
"Not only did I witness the peerless Tong Yan Wang himself, but also the grandest female wrestling match in history. Even if I sold my house for this ticket, it's worth it!"
Painters, however, ignored the chaos entirely. Their brushes trembled, faces pale. They stared inward, obsessively replaying the image of Subei unveiling the Shenyan Hall plaque, desperate to catch even a shadow of his glory.
But the more they tried, the less they succeeded.
"I can't do it," one painter groaned, collapsing. "I can paint mountains, rivers, sun, moon, bustling markets. But his face? My nerves remember it, but when my hand moves, it refuses."
Another whispered, glassy-eyed, "Perhaps the Lord of Beauty is our painters' ultimate trial… a riddle no pen can solve."
Their agony turned mania. Some shouted slogans to the fighting women: "Bravery! Fight for love, goddesses!" as though the chaos itself were inspiration.
Palace Guards Intervene
The endless squabble was cut short when a hundred armored maidens marched forth. With unified cries, they released their martial spirits. Yellow, purple, then black rings surged—flawless soul ring ratios for every single one.
Civilians trembled. Where else in Douluo could one find a guard troop of a hundred coordinated Soul Kings—and all of them women?
Other sects paled in comparison. Even empires would hesitate at such force. And behind them waited more. A thousand more, in fact.
The commanding officer's iron-feather martial spirit gleamed, etching words into the very air. Her voice rang across the courtyard:
"Those who come to honor Shenyan Hall are welcome. Those who seek audience with His Highness will queue under appraisal. But anyone who disrupts order—no matter your status—will be blacklisted forever and expelled on sight!"
The fighting ceased instantly. The iron pen, recording without flaw, left no room for excuses. Shenyan Palace would remember and punish.
Private Talk with Xiao Wu
Inside, Subei turned his gaze away from the chaos, sighing. Hundreds tearing, men cheering, painters weeping… is this my palace or a circus?
But the sound of slender steps reached him.
Xiao Wu appeared from the side, her soft hand slipping naturally into his. But her rabbit-bright eyes drooped, shadowed with unhappiness.
"Xiao Wu," he asked softly, "did Ziji trick you again?"
Her shoulders twitched. Ziji did often bully her—after all, the Black Dragon's noble blood had natural pressure over a humble rabbit. Yet this time she only shook her head.
"Brother… I… I don't know what's happening."
Her hesitation pulled him into silence. He stroked her hair gently. Her dependence was palpable… and precious.
Xiao Wu had no great bloodline. No divine inheritance. No sprawling sect behind her like Qian Renxue, no motherly fortress like Liu Erlong's clan, no eternal life like Brigitte or Ziji. Just a simple rabbit beast, alone.
Her only anchor was him.
If one day Subei disappeared, where would she go?
Not Spirit Hall. Not to strangers. She would be lost.
That fragile reliance twisted his chest. In her dependence, he found his rarest comfort—the feeling of being needed.
The Question of Bibi Dong
Biting her lip, Xiao Wu whispered, "Brother, there's something else. Pope Bibi Dong… sometimes, when she releases her soul power, it feels so familiar to me. Like warmth… like my mother. But at the same time, I feel warning, hatred. Like my heart wants to both run to her and run away."
Her eyes filled with confusion.
Subei's brow furrowed. He knew the truth: decades ago, Bibi Dong had hunted Xiao Wu's mother, the Soft Bone Rabbit. Absorbed her spirit. That explained the resonance.
But how could I ever tell her?
He stroked her cheek, whispering instead, "Maybe you miss your mother too much. Maybe Teacher's aura reminds you of her. It's natural."
Xiao Wu's lips trembled, eyes damp. "Brother… do you think I'll ever see my mother again?"
Against all reason, he smiled. "One day, perhaps. When that day comes, she will braid your hair, dress you in red, and watch you wed."
Her small body shook. Then she buried her face against his chest, whispering, "Brother… then would you be the one I marry?"
The words fell like pebbles into a still pond. Waves rippled in his chest.
For a moment, the chaos outside seemed to fall away.
Vows in the Palace
He pinched her nose gently. "Foolish girl. Who else would marry my rabbit sister, if not me?"
Her face flushed brighter than spring peaches. She bit her lip and let out a trembling laugh, half-crying, half-smiling.
"Then I'm yours forever, Brother. Even if other women flock, even if your palace fills with thousands, I'll be here. As long as you keep me in your heart, Xiao Wu will be happy."
Her words pierced his chest, simple yet binding.
And though he joked lightly, "It's not about me being unfaithful, it's about survival—with these women, if I don't spread rain evenly, they'll eat me alive," his tone softened when his fingers combed tenderly through her hair.
"Xiao Wu," he whispered, "you'll always be my rabbit sister. Always."
Her eyes misted with joy.
At last, within the gilded walls of Shenyan Hall, Subei felt it clearly for the first time: belonging.
Not just in Douluo. Not just as a drifter from another world. But here, now, with a rabbit girl trembling in his arms.
And he promised himself silently: one day, he would give her more than comfort. He would give her the security of a true home.
Even under the suffocating weight of gods, beasts, and schemes—he would.
--
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