The decision, once made, settled in Qian Renxue's heart with the cold, hard finality of a diamond. The time for observation was over. The time for action had arrived.
She stood in her private chambers, the vast, opulent room a silent witness to her twelve-year-long deception. The persona of the diligent, dutiful Crown Prince Xue Qinghe had been a heavy, suffocating mask. Now, she was free. And her first act of freedom would be to claim the prize she had set her sights on.
She moved to her wardrobe, a massive piece of furniture filled with the simple, masculine robes of the prince. She pushed them aside with a faint, dismissive sneer. At the very back, hidden behind a false panel, was her true wardrobe.
She chose her attire for the day with the meticulous care of a general planning a decisive battle. It was a dress of pure, immaculate white, the silk so fine it seemed to shimmer with an inner light. Golden thread, as fine as spun sunlight, was embroidered along the collar and cuffs in intricate, angelic patterns. It was a dress that was both regal and subtly, devastatingly alluring. It spoke of holy, untouchable beauty, of a power that was not of the mortal realm.
She looked at her reflection in the large, gilded mirror, and a slow, confident smile touched her perfect lips.
'Today is the day,' she thought, her violet eyes gleaming with a mixture of excitement and an absolute, unwavering confidence. 'The day I finally meet him on my own terms. The day I begin the process of making him mine.'
Her mind was a beautiful, brilliant storm of plans and possibilities. 'He is intelligent, yes. Terrifyingly so. But he is still a man. And I… I am Qian Renxue.'
A new, thrilling idea, a perfect symbol of her intent, entered her mind. 'I will put a chain around his neck,' she mused, her smile widening. 'A beautiful, golden one. A leash, to show him who his true master is.' The thought sent a shiver of pure, possessive delight through her.
She summoned her two guardians, She Long and Ci Xue, with a single, silent pulse of her spirit power. They appeared in her chambers a moment later, their immense, powerful forms bowing deeply before her.
"Young Miss," they said in unison.
"We are going out," she announced, her voice a clear, melodic chime of absolute authority. She turned from the mirror, and the full force of her holy, otherworldly beauty washed over them. "To the estate of Mister Zhang Tian."
In a small, elegant mansion situated a discreet distance from the grand estate, three men were in the middle of a leisurely game of cards. They were the three Spirit Douluos assigned by Ning Fengzhi to act as the trio's permanent, personal guard.
Suddenly, the lead guard, a stern-faced man in his late fifties named Feng Jian, froze, the card in his hand halfway to the table.
"What is it, Captain?" one of his companions asked.
Feng Jian's face was pale, his eyes wide with a mixture of awe and terror. "This pressure," he breathed, his voice a hoarse, strangled sound. "Two of them. They're… they're Titled Douluos."
The three of them were on their feet in an instant, their own powerful, Spirit Douluo auras flaring to life. They appeared at the grand, main gates of Zhang Tian's estate a moment later, their expressions grim, their hands already glowing with the light of their martial spirits.
Three figures were approaching, walking with a slow, unhurried grace that was a testament to their absolute confidence. Two were the imposing, powerful forms of She Long and Ci Xue. And between them, a vision of pure, holy beauty in a dress of white and gold, was Qian Renxue.
"Halt!" Feng Jian commanded, his voice a sharp, powerful bark. "This is the private property of the Seven Treasure Glaze Tile Sect! State your business!"
She Long just smiled, a slow, serpentine expression that held no warmth. He did not act with hostility. He did not threaten. His voice was a calm, polite, and utterly dismissive hiss.
"We are here on behalf of a person of great importance," he said. "We wish to have a simple conversation with Mister Zhang Tian. We have no hostile intent."
"He is not receiving visitors," Feng Jian replied, his hand tightening into a fist.
"I am afraid," She Long said with a sigh that was pure, theatrical regret, "that we must insist."
He and Ci Xue did not move. They simply released a sliver of their true, Titled Douluo-level spiritual pressure.
It was not an attack. It was a statement. An absolute, undeniable declaration of their overwhelming superiority.
The three Spirit Douluos felt the pressure wash over them like a physical, tangible tidal wave. Their own auras, which had seemed so powerful just a moment before, were snuffed out like candles in a hurricane. Their bodies froze, their muscles locking, the very air in their lungs turning to stone. They were helpless.
Inside the main house, Zhang Tian, who had been in the middle of a quiet, intense sparring session with Zhu Zhuqing in the courtyard, suddenly froze.
His Blood Silver Domain, a silent, omniscient net that was a permanent extension of his senses within the estate, screamed a warning.
'Two Titled Douluos,' his mind registered, a flicker of genuine surprise in his eyes. He had not been expecting this. 'And her. Qian Renxue.'
He looked across the courtyard, his gaze meeting the open doorway of the kitchen. Ah Yin stood there, a simple tray of refreshments in her hands, her expression one of calm, cold, and absolute readiness. Her crimson eyes met his, and a silent, perfect understanding passed between them.
'Ah Yin,' his mental voice was a calm, steady current, 'be ready. Three guests from the Spirit Hall. Two Titled Douluos. If they try anything, you have my permission to act.'
A faint, predatory smile touched her lips, a look that would have frozen the blood of any man who saw it. 'As you command, my Emperor,' her own mental voice purred in reply.
'She thinks she's coming here with a show of force?' Zhang Tian thought, a cold, amused light in his eyes. 'Interesting. Little does she know, the most dangerous person in this valley is the one she will dismiss as a simple maid. Ah Yin, at Level 84, with her Blood Silver Empress spirit and a physique that surpasses that of a normal Titled Douluo… she could likely handle both of these Level 92 and 93 antiques on her own.'
His initial surprise faded, replaced by a deep, calculating curiosity. 'But why now? What is her angle? What is her play?'
He turned to a wary, tense Ning Rongrong and Zhu Zhuqing, who had also felt the sudden, oppressive pressure.
"It seems we have guests," he said, his voice a calm, reassuring murmur. "Let's not be rude."
He, along with his two fiancées, walked to the grand entrance of their estate.
Qian Renxue stood there, a vision of holy, untouchable beauty. Her two guardians had already withdrawn their pressure, and the three Spirit Douluo guards were now standing a respectful, if deeply anxious, distance away.
"Mister Zhang Tian," Qian Renxue said, her voice a clear, melodic chime. She offered him a slight, polite bow. "I apologize for the intrusion. And for the… enthusiasm of my guardians. I am here for a simple conversation."
'A simple conversation that required two Titled Douluos to clear the way?' Ning Rongrong thought, her eyes narrowing with a suspicious, hostile light.
Zhang Tian just smiled, a calm, welcoming expression on his handsome face. "Of course, Your… Highness," he said, a subtle, knowing emphasis on the old title. He gestured to the open doorway of his home. "Please, come in."
The walk to the living room was a silent, tense affair. The two Titled Douluos followed a respectful three paces behind Qian Renxue, their own senses on high alert, their gazes sweeping over the beautiful, tranquil estate with a professional, analytical coldness.
They settled in the living room, the same space that had been the stage for a wild, passionate night of conquest just a week before. The atmosphere now was one of cold, political tension.
Ah Yin appeared a moment later, her movements a study in quiet, humble grace. She wore her simple maid's uniform, her magnificent beauty and power completely concealed beneath a mask of polite, subservient deference. She served them a fragrant, steaming tea and a platter of delicate pastries.
Qian Renxue barely glanced at her, her mind dismissing the beautiful maid as an insignificant, low-level servant.
Ah Yin's crimson eyes, however, missed nothing. She registered the immense, if slightly unstable, power of the two Titled Douluos. She registered the deep, holy, and incredibly powerful aura that emanated from the beautiful, blonde-haired woman. And she registered the faint, possessive way that woman's gaze lingered on her Emperor.
A cold, predatory, and deeply amused light flickered in the depths of her eyes. 'Another one,' she thought, a silent, mental purr echoing in her mind. 'He collects them like a dragon hoarding jewels.'
She retreated to the kitchen, a silent, unseen guardian, ready to unleash a storm of crimson death at a single, mental command.
Once she was gone, Zhang Tian got straight to the point. He took a sip of his tea, a calm, casual gesture. "So," he began, his voice a pleasant, conversational tone, "to what do we owe the honor of this visit, Miss Qian Renxue?"
Qian Renxue just smiled, a cool, confident expression on her beautiful face. She had the upper hand, and she knew it.
"I have come," she said, her voice a mixture of feigned concern and a subtle, underlying threat, "because I have learned something… troubling. Something that could have dire consequences for the Seven Treasure Glaze Tile Sect. And for the stability of the entire empire."
She looked at him, her violet eyes shining with a false, sympathetic light. "Tell me, Mister Zhang Tian," she asked, her voice a low, serious murmur, "why is the Seven Treasure Glaze Tile Sect secretly recruiting a private army of mercenaries?"
The question, so direct, so unexpected, was a bolt of lightning in the quiet room.
Ning Rongrong and Zhu Zhuqing both froze, their faces a mask of pure, unadulterated shock. They looked at each other, then at Zhang Tian, their minds reeling. How? How could she possibly know? It had barely been a week. Their recruitment had been conducted in the deepest, most absolute secrecy.
Zhang Tian, however, remained perfectly calm. He just raised an eyebrow, a flicker of amused, genuine surprise in his eyes. 'She is good,' he thought, a flicker of genuine, professional respect in his mind. 'Her information network is even better than I thought. Or… she has a spy within the mercenary guilds themselves.'
Qian Renxue saw their shock, and her own inner confidence soared. She pressed her advantage.
"Did you truly think such a thing would remain hidden from the eyes of the Spirit Hall?" she asked, her voice a low, chiding sound, as if she were a disappointed teacher scolding a naughty, but talented, student. "To gather so many powerful, independent forces under your banner, so quickly, so secretly… it is an act of aggression. An act of ambition."
She let her words hang in the air, a heavy, unspoken threat.
"The current Supreme Pontiff," she continued, her voice turning cold, "is not a patient woman. She does not tolerate rivals or opposing powers. If she were to learn of this… if she were to believe that the Seven Treasure Glaze Tile Sect was building a private army to challenge her authority… she might be inclined to act. Decisively. To crush your sect before it becomes a true threat to her reign."
She looked at them, her expression one of profound, sympathetic concern. "Fortunately for you," she said, her voice a soft, promising murmur, "the report of your… activities… came to me first. And I have kept it a secret. For now."
She then leaned forward, her violet eyes locking with Zhang Tian's, and she laid her final, beautiful, and incredibly dangerous card on the table.
"I believe," she said, her voice a low, intimate purr that was meant only for him, "that it is in the best interests of both of our factions that we maintain a close, private, and ongoing dialogue. To ensure that there are no… misunderstandings. I would like you to visit me, at the palace, for tea. Weekly. Alone."
She smiled, a slow, confident, and incredibly possessive expression. "Just the two of us. To discuss our ongoing… cooperation."
The silence that followed Qian Renxue's indecent proposal was a fragile, crystalline thing. It hung in the opulent living room for a single, heart-stopping moment, stretched taut with unspoken threats and burgeoning desire.
And then, it shattered.
"Shameless!"
The word was not spoken. It was shrieked. Ning Rongrong shot to her feet, her usual graceful poise completely gone, replaced by the raw, unrestrained fury of a cornered lioness. Her beautiful face was flushed a deep, furious crimson, and her eyes, usually so bright and playful, were blazing with a righteous, protective fire.
"You are absolutely shameless!" she repeated, her voice trembling with rage as she pointed an accusing finger at the calm, smiling woman on the sofa. "You think you can just march in here, into our home, threaten us with your Spirit Hall nonsense, and then demand to have private meetings with my husband?!"
She took a step forward, her small body practically vibrating with indignation. "Who do you think you are?! Do you have any sense of decency? Of honor?"
Before Qian Renxue could even form a response, another, colder voice cut through the air.
"Rongrong is right," Zhu Zhuqing said. She had not stood, had not raised her voice. She simply sat there, a statue of cold, lethal fury, her dark eyes fixed on Qian Renxue with a look that could have frozen lava. "Your actions are… contemptible."
Her voice was a low, dangerous murmur, each word a perfectly sharpened blade. "You are more than ten years older than us. You are a woman of status, the Young Miss of the Spirit Hall. Yet you lower yourself to scheming, to trying to steal another woman's fiancé. Do you have no pride?"
Qian Renxue just watched them, the calm, condescending smile never leaving her perfect lips. She listened to their furious, childish accusations, and a faint, almost pitying amusement flickered in her violet eyes.
'They are so young,' she thought, her mind a calm, tranquil lake in the face of their emotional storm. 'They think this is about pride. About love. They do not yet understand that at this level, there is only power. And desire.'
She had to be careful, however. She knew that to be rude, to be openly dismissive of his two little fiancées, would be a fatal mistake. Zhang Tian was watching her, his expression unreadable, and she knew he was judging her every word, her every action. She had to appear reasonable, logical, and above all, respectful.
She let out a soft, gentle sigh, a sound of profound, weary wisdom. "Little Sister Rongrong, Little Sister Zhuqing," she began, her voice a smooth, melodic balm that was designed to soothe their ruffled feathers. "I can see that my proposal has… upset you. And for that, I am truly sorry. It was never my intention to cause you distress."
She looked at them, her expression one of perfect, understanding sympathy. "You speak of my age," she said, addressing Zhu Zhuqing's cold accusation directly. "And you are right. I am twenty-two. You are both thirteen. To you, now, that nine-year difference must seem like a vast, insurmountable chasm."
A faint, almost sad smile touched her lips. "But you must try to think beyond the present. We are not commoners, destined to live for a mere handful of decades. We are powerful Spirit Masters. You, Little Sister Rongrong, with your Nine Treasure Pagoda, are destined to become a Titled Douluo. And you, Little Sister Zhuqing, with your impossible spirit ring configuration… your potential is limitless. We will all live for centuries. Our appearances will remain as they are now, untouched by the ravages of time."
She looked from one to the other, her gaze direct and unwavering. "In a hundred years, when we are all still young and beautiful, will this small, nine-year gap in our ages truly matter? Or will it be an insignificant, forgotten detail of our youth?"
Her logic was flawless, irrefutable. It was a masterful stroke, turning their own potential, their own bright futures, against them, making their present concerns seem childish and short-sighted.
Ning Rongrong's furious retort died in her throat. Zhu Zhuqing's cold certainty faltered. They had no answer to that.
"And you speak of me 'scheming' to 'steal' your fiancé," Qian Renxue continued, her voice still a gentle, reasonable sound. "But I think you misunderstand my intentions. This is not a matter of romance. It is a matter of survival. Your survival."
She leaned forward, her expression turning serious, concerned. "The Seven Treasure Glaze Tile Sect is building a private army. It is a dangerous, provocative act. I have kept this information a secret, shielded you from the wrath of my Supreme Pontiff. My request for private meetings with your husband is simply a necessary measure to ensure our two factions can maintain a peaceful, cooperative relationship. To ensure there are no… misunderstandings that could lead to a catastrophic war."
She looked at them, her eyes shining with a false, noble sincerity. "I am not trying to steal him from you. I am trying to save you from yourselves."
It was a brilliant, beautiful, and utterly shameless performance. She had reframed her indecent proposal as an act of selfless, political necessity.
But Ning Rongrong was not a fool. And she was not so easily placated.
"Hmph. I don't believe you," she snapped, her fury returning in a rush. "You're just twisting your words! You want him for yourself! And let me tell you something, Miss Qian Renxue. I don't care who you are. If you continue to insist on this matter, if you continue to harass my husband, my Seven Treasure Glaze Tile Sect will not stay silent!"
It was her trump card. The one she had been holding in reserve. The full, unbridled might of her clan.
Qian Renxue just looked at her, and for the first time, a flicker of genuine, undisguised amusement, a hint of a disdainful sneer, touched her perfect lips.
"Your sect?" she echoed, her voice a low, condescending purr. She let out a soft, tinkling laugh, a sound that was both beautiful and incredibly insulting.
"Oh, my dear, sweet, naive little princess," she said, her voice dripping with a pitying, almost motherly, condescension. "You truly do not understand the game you are playing, do you?"
She stood up, her movements a fluid, graceful display of power. She began to pace the room, a slow, deliberate rhythm that seemed to make the very air hum with her authority.
"You are proud of your 'grandpas', aren't you?" she said, her voice a low, conversational tone that was somehow more intimidating than any shout. "The Sword Douluo and the Bone Douluo. Two magnificent Super Douluos. The twin pillars that support your entire clan. They are powerful, yes. Very powerful. I will not deny that."
She stopped pacing and turned to face them, a cold, hard, and incredibly dangerous light in her violet eyes.
"But you seem to be under the impression that you are the only one with powerful grandpas."
She smiled, and it was not a pleasant sight. It was the smile of a predator revealing its fangs for the first time.
"Let me tell you a little secret, little girls," she said, her voice dropping to a low, conspiratorial whisper. "In my Spirit Hall, we have a place called the Elder Hall. It is a place where only the most powerful, most loyal Titled Douluos are permitted to reside. And the minimum requirement for entry… is the rank of a Super Douluo."
She saw the dawning horror in their eyes and pressed her advantage, her voice a relentless, crushing weight.
"I have many 'grandpas' in my Elder Hall, Little Sister Rongrong. A half-dozen of them, at least. Each one a Super Douluo. Each one with a spirit as powerful, or more powerful, than your own Grandpa Sword or Grandpa Bone."
She took a step closer, her holy, otherworldly aura flaring to life, a suffocating, divine pressure that made the very air in the room feel heavy.
"And that," she said, her voice dropping to a near-inaudible, devastating whisper, "is not even the true extent of our power."
She looked at them, at their pale, shocked faces, and she delivered the final, crushing blow. The ultimate, undeniable checkmate.
"My own grandfather," she announced, her voice a clear, cold chime of absolute, unshakeable authority, "is the Grand Enshrinement of my Spirit Hall. He is the strongest individual in the entire world."
She paused, letting the weight of her final, world-shattering words settle upon them like a mountain.
"He is a Level 99 Limit Douluo. His name… is Qian Daoliu."
The name was not a name. It was a force of nature. A legend. A god.
The effect was instantaneous.
The color drained from Ning Rongrong's face. The furious, defiant fire in her eyes was extinguished, replaced by a look of pure, unadulterated, and utterly helpless shock. She staggered back a step, her body trembling, her hand instinctively reaching out for Zhang Tian's.
Zhu Zhuqing's icy composure finally, completely, shattered. A single, sharp gasp escaped her lips, her dark eyes wide with a dawning, terrifying understanding.
They were outmatched. Completely, utterly, and hopelessly outmatched.
Their sect, their power, their two magnificent Super Douluo guardians… it was all a child's game in the face of a true, living legend like Qian Daoliu.
They had been playing a game of cards, and they had just proudly laid down their royal flush, only for their opponent to calmly, coolly, reveal a hand that contained five aces.
A slow, triumphant, and incredibly satisfied smile spread across Qian Renxue's beautiful face. Her victory was absolute.
She looked at Zhang Tian, her eyes shining with a possessive, promising light, ready to claim her prize.
And it was then that a calm, almost lazy voice, a voice that held not a hint of fear or intimidation, cut through the heavy, suffocating silence.
"You are right, of course," Zhang Tian said. He had been a silent, watchful observer throughout the entire, explosive confrontation. He had let his fiancées fight their own battle, and he had let them lose. Now, it was his turn to play.
He stood up, his movements fluid and unhurried. He walked to his two fiancées and gently, protectively, pulled them behind him. He faced Qian Renxue alone.
"The power of the Spirit Hall's Elder Hall is undeniable," he continued, his voice a calm, reasonable tone that was a stark, jarring contrast to the high-stakes, emotional drama that had just unfolded. "And the power of the Grand Enshrinement, Qian Daoliu… he is a true legend. No one would dispute that."
Qian Renxue's eyes narrowed slightly. What was he doing?
"But you seem to be making a rather… significant miscalculation in your threat," he said, a faint, almost pitying smile on his lips.
He looked at her, his blue eyes shining with a cool, analytical light. "You are assuming that your grandfather would be willing to bring his full, world-ending power down upon the Seven Treasure Glaze Tile Sect. And for what? For a petty, childish squabble over a young man?"
He shook his head slowly. "I don't think so."
"And why is that?" she asked, her voice a low, dangerous sound.
"Because," he said, his voice a blade of pure, irrefutable logic, "from everything I have ever read about him, your grandfather, Qian Daoliu, is a man with a very clear, almost rigid, sense of what is right and what is wrong. He is a man of honor. A man who follows a certain… code."
He took a step forward, his gaze direct and unwavering. "Let me present you with a simple fact. When the Clear Sky Douluo, Tang Hao, killed your father, the Supreme Pontiff, it was the greatest humiliation the Spirit Hall had suffered in a thousand years. By all rights, your grandfather should have hunted down and annihilated every last man, woman, and child of the Clear Sky Sect. He had the power. He had the justification."
He paused, letting his words sink in.
"But he didn't," he said, his voice a soft, final note. "He allowed them to retreat into seclusion. He did not pursue them to the point of extinction. Why? Because his war was with Tang Hao, not with the innocent members of his clan. It was a matter of honor, not of blind, emotional vengeance."
He looked at her, and his faint smile returned. "Do you truly believe that a man of such profound, almost divine, principle would bring his wrath down upon my sect, simply because his granddaughter is acting dishonourably? I think not. In fact," he added, his voice a low, amused murmur, "I think he would be deeply, deeply disappointed in you."
Qian Renxue stared at him, her beautiful face a mask of pure, unadulterated, and utterly speechless shock.
He had not attacked her power. He had not attacked her status. He had attacked the very foundation of her threat. He had used her own grandfather's legendary character, his greatest strength, against her.
She had no counter-argument. She had nothing.
Her perfect, flawless, and absolutely certain victory had just been completely, utterly, and effortlessly dismantled.
~~
A/N: Check out my other novels like "Harem Master: Seduction System" and the "Villain: Manipulating the Heroines into hating the Protagonist" and I hope you like this story and those stories as well.
Check out more chapters on my P.atreon. The P.atreon will have 20+ Chapters ahead for this story. I hope you like it.
The link of p.atreon is: bit.ly/evildragon