Bibi Dong led Bibi Han away.
Afterward, another person appeared beside Golden Crocodile Douluo. If Bibi Han were here, he would have recognized him as the old man who had appeared on the seventh floor of the Library Pavilion.
"Brother, why didn't we just kill that boy? His talent and determination are both exceptional, and his running distance has already surpassed Xiao Xue. In time, he could become another Tang Chen."
"You know my character. Since I have taken him as my disciple, I will fulfill my duty as his master."
The only person who could make the Golden Crocodile address him as "Brother" was Qian Daoliu, the Grand Priest of Spirit Hall.
"I have my own considerations regarding this matter, so you can leave it to me," Qian Daoliu replied.
Then Qian Daoliu returned to stand beneath the statue of the Seraphim, recalling the words Bibi Han had spoken to him.
If the empire and nobility are truly like this, then in the future, I will sweep them all away!
Qian Daoliu said calmly, "From your words, I can hear your resolve. If, in the future, you fall to their side— even if you bully the weak, even if Spirit Hall is split apart, even if you break the agreement between Tang Chen and me— I will still erase you."
In a room in the Pope's Palace, Bibi Han awoke inside a medicinal barrel, wearing only undergarments.
"Xiaohan, you're awake," came a delicate, almost feminine voice.
"Grandpa Ju, why am I here?"
"You were exhausted and dizzy. His Holiness the Pope sent you here to recover."
It was a medicinal bath, something the greatest geniuses of Spirit Hall had undergone for generations. This medicinal bath was essential for ensuring continuous training without leaving lingering injuries, while also strengthening the user's physique.
"Still, Xiaohan, you're truly amazing to have passed the Second Worship's test," Ju Douluo said.
"Xiaohan, are you still in pain?"
"No."
"Not at all?!"
"Mm."
"Strange. No matter how good the medicine, it's impossible to fully heal overnight—and those weren't light injuries."
"Xiaohan, the Second Worship asked you to get up and return to the courtyard."
Once dressed, Bibi Han came to the courtyard, where the Golden Crocodile was sitting in a chair drinking tea.
Seeing him, the Golden Crocodile said evenly, "Although you have passed my test, I still need to observe your further performance before I can officially acknowledge you as my disciple."
"That's fine by me," Bibi Han replied. "That way, you'll see for yourself—and make full use of me in the future. I've heard from Grandpa Ju that the Second Worship's body-training method is the best on the continent, but your words can't be empty; otherwise, it'll be a sign of weakness."
"Good boy. Begin your training now."
The Golden Crocodile stood, and a wave of oppressive force crashed onto Bibi Han, forcing him to bend under the pressure.
"Run—until you reach your previous limit!"
The pressure was precise, suppressing every part of his body while still allowing him to move. Bibi Han couldn't help but admire the Golden Crocodile's mastery over his soul power.
He ran upward, just within the range of the Golden Crocodile's oppression.
That old crocodile could actually sip tea while exerting such force, and on top of that, look perfectly composed.
After a long time, Bibi Han's consciousness began to blur. Remembering the Golden Crocodile's words before training, he felt like collapsing.
A mocking voice came from the Golden Crocodile: "Don't even think about collapsing on purpose, or I'll throw you out immediately."
"Old man, who are you looking down on?" Bibi Han replied through gritted teeth.
He kept running until he truly fainted. At that point, the Golden Crocodile released his pressure, picked Bibi Han up, and tossed him to Ju Douluo to soak in medicinal liquid again.
Run, soak, repeat—this went on for an entire day.
By nightfall, Bibi Han returned to his room and collapsed onto his bed. He had never been this tired before. Physically, he was fine, but mentally, he was completely drained.
There was a knock at the door. When he opened it, it was his mother, Bibi Dong.
"Han'er, how's the training?"
"Well… very good. It's boring, but very effective."
"Rest well."
"Alright. Good night, Mother."
The next morning, at the hour of Mao (around 5–7 a.m.), someone opened his door and yanked him out of bed.
"Up. Time to train."
"Oh, come on… that old man must be crazy. It's only just Mao hour—it's too early!"
"Hah, this is the perfect time," the Golden Crocodile replied gruffly. "Do you know how many days you can go without sleep while cultivating? You'll be doing the same in the future."
"Up!" he barked again, then left.
As the saying goes, a master leads you to the door, but cultivation is up to the individual. The Golden Crocodile would only remind his disciples once—if they didn't listen, he'd throw them out.
Bibi Han got up and went to the courtyard. Seeing him arrive, the Golden Crocodile gave a faint smile.
"Old man, same as yesterday?"
"Almost. But take these."
He tossed four pieces of cloth to Bibi Han. They looked like athletic compression wear from his past life, but only covered his arms and legs—his hands and feet. Each arm wrap weighed five catties, each leg wrap ten. Combined with the Golden Crocodile's pressure, it would be exhausting.
"Old man, isn't this a bit much?"
"You're a level-20 innate genius. There's no third person with your talent on this continent. You've already adapted to yesterday's training, so of course we're increasing it."
"Put them on and run."
The pressure came again—stronger than yesterday.
And so, Bibi Han trained until he fainted every day. Each time he adapted, the difficulty increased.
Three months later, with a total of two hundred catties strapped to his body, Bibi Han could run twenty miles against pressure that even most high-ranking soul masters of the Golden Crocodile's Hall couldn't withstand.
After finishing this first stage of training, he removed the weights, slouched over with his hands on his knees, and panted heavily.
Three months had passed, and Bibi Han's skin looked no different than before—sun exposure had little effect on him—but his expression had changed greatly. There was respect in his eyes for the Golden Crocodile, though his stubborn spirit had not diminished.
His physique, however, had transformed—stronger, more powerful, packed with muscle and brimming with explosive strength.
Thanks to his Blue Silver God Spirit, he didn't appear overly bulky when dressed. But bare-chested, he could easily make any woman with a normal orientation blush. Dressed, he looked lean; undressed, he looked powerful—that was him.
"Alright. Tomorrow will be the second stage of training. Wait for me here," the Golden Crocodile said before leaving.