The sun had barely risen, its golden rays filtering gently through the silk curtains of the eastern chamber. Qian Renxue sat alone in quiet contemplation. Her expression was unreadable, but within her mind, thoughts flowed like a tidal current.
'The distribution of herbs… has made the Spirit Hall's foundations more deep.'
Her reputation among the elders, their protégés, and the influential figures of Spirit Hall was rising like a star destined for the zenith.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the soft knock at the door.
"Young Master," came a familiar voice, elegant, measured.
Qian Renxue turned slightly. "Enter."
Her trusted maid, Wu Meng, stepped into the room with careful grace. Behind her, two servants carried a long, flat box covered in black cloth. The box was placed carefully before Qian Renxue. Wu Meng stepped forward and gently pulled off the cover.
Beneath it lay a singular object, a token, carved of obsidian-like metal and edged with dusk-silver patterns that shimmered subtly under the lamplight. It was roughly palm-sized, circular, and heavy with layered meaning. At its center, a twelve-pointed star radiated from a hooded eye sigil, half-shut and carved in faint violet. The back of the token bore no words, only a sigil.
This was the Twilight Hermit Order's emblem that she had decided on, a symbol of watchers hidden in plain sight, the eyes that stared back at fate itself.
Qian Renxue picked it up between her fingers, feeling the cool, solid weight settle into her palm like the echo of destiny.
'Now the Twilight Hermit Order will step on the existence conspiracies of the Douluo Continent,' she thought silently.
Her voice, cold and composed, cut through the quiet.
"Tell him... he did good work. Order a few more copies to be made. At least twenty for now."
Wu Meng bowed with her usual crispness. "Yes, Young Master."
She turned and exited the chamber, leaving Qian Renxue alone once again with the token, the morning sun, and the knowledge that something entirely new had begun.
The Twilight Hermit Order, a hidden network loyal to her alone, will soon be born in this world.
Qian Renxue stood up and gazed at the sun overhead, its golden rays filtering softly through the carved wooden lattice of her chamber window. The warmth kissed her fair face, but her golden eyes were deep with thought.
'Elder Gui Mei must be arriving anytime soon.'
As if summoned by her thoughts, a cold sensation crept into the room. The sunlight still poured in, but its warmth no longer reached her skin. A gloom settled unnaturally over the space, a subtle but distinct chill brushing against her back like the breath of death.
The corners of the chamber darkened. Shadows clung stubbornly to the floor and ceiling like living things. And then, he was there.
From the darkest part of the room stepped a tall, thin figure robed in layered black. A ghostly mist lingered faintly at his feet, fading as he moved. His face was hidden behind a smooth, featureless iron-gray mask. Upon his broad shoulders, black armor plates bore the faintly glowing inscription.
Gui Mei, the Ghost Douluo, had arrived.
It was said that he had once died as a child, his breath stopped, heart still, body cold. But something had dragged him back. When his soul reattached itself to his lifeless body, a strange phenomenon occurred. His martial soul did not manifest in the form of a beast or weapon, but as a projection of his own spirit. From that moment on, he was no longer fully alive, nor truly dead.
Qian Renxue turned her head slowly and gave a sigh
"Uncle Ghost, how many times have I told you? You'll only make children cry if you keep arriving like that."
Her tone was light, even teasing, but there was authority behind her words.
Gui Mei didn't reply at first. He merely stood there, quiet and motionless, the gloom receding around him like a withdrawn tide.
Qian Renxue narrowed her eyes. "And what's with that mask still covering your face? I'm fairly certain your wounds were healed when I gave you that immortal herb a year ago."
Gui Mei's hand slowly reached up, metallic fingers brushing the edges of his mask. He hesitated for a moment, then removed it.
Beneath was a face that no longer bore the terror-inducing scars of his past. The once grotesquely twisted flesh had smoothed, the gnarled wound lines had faded. His complexion was still pale, like that of a man who had not stood beneath the sun for years. His cheeks were slightly sunken, his nose subtly crooked from a break that had never quite healed straight, and a faint scar lingered along his jawline.
He wasn't handsome, but he was no longer frightening either. Just… ordinary. A plain face carved by age, battle, and countless cold nights.
His sunken eyes, however, remained sharp, deep, pitch-black wells that reflected no light, only understanding.
Qian Renxue gave a satisfied nod. "See? Much better. You're no monster now, Uncle Ghost."
Gui Mei gave a rare, dry chuckle. "Young Master is too kind. But I've lived long enough to know… mystery has its uses."
With his hoarse voice he asked " Why have you called out for me, Young master?"
Qian Renxue gazed at him and threw a token towards him .
Gui Mei caught the token effortlessly. He bowed respectfully, the token now firmly grasped in his gloved hand. Even through the veil of shadow that always clung to him, one could sense the faint ripple of curiosity in his spiritual fluctuations.
Qian Renxue said " I am establishing an organisation. The name of the organisation is Twilight Hermit Order." She paused for a moment let him understand before continuing. "You are appointed as the elder."
"Twilight Hermit Order…" Gui Mei muttered, letting the name roll off his tongue like an incantation. He bowed once more, deeper this time. "A fitting name, Young Master."