The silence that followed Zhang Tian's devastatingly logical counter-argument was a profound, heavy thing. He had not attacked Qian Renxue's power. He had not attacked her status. He had attacked the very foundation of her threat, using her own grandfather's legendary character as his shield.
Qian Renxue stared at him, her beautiful face a mask of pure, unadulterated, and utterly speechless shock. Her mind, a brilliant, calculating machine that had orchestrated the infiltration of an empire, was for the first time in a very long time, completely, utterly blank. She had no counter. She had nothing.
Her perfect, flawless, and absolutely certain victory had just been completely, utterly, and effortlessly dismantled by a thirteen-year-old boy.
The sight of her, the magnificent, untouchable Young Miss of the Spirit Hall, rendered speechless, sent a surge of triumphant, vicious glee through Ning Rongrong and Zhu Zhuqing. They saw their husband, their magnificent, brilliant husband, snatch victory from the jaws of certain defeat.
But the moment of triumph was a fleeting one.
Qian Renxue's shock lasted for only a heartbeat. Then, it was replaced by a flicker of something else. A deep, profound, and grudging respect. And then, that too was gone, replaced once more by a cold, hard, and incredibly dangerous resolve.
She let out a soft, almost musical laugh, a sound that held no humor, only a chilling, beautiful clarity.
"You are very, very good, Zhang Tian," she said, her voice a low, admiring murmur. "Better than I could have possibly imagined."
She looked at him, and her violet eyes were shining with a new, even more intense, light. "And you are right. My grandfather is a man of honor. He would not act against your sect for a matter such as this. Not directly."
She paused, a faint, cruel smile touching her perfect lips.
"But the current Supreme Pontiff," she continued, her voice a smooth, silken threat, "is not my grandfather. She is a woman of… a different temperament. A far more pragmatic one. She does not care for honor, or for codes. She cares only for power. And for the absolute, unquestionable authority of the Spirit Hall."
She took a step forward, her holy, otherworldly aura flaring to life once more. "If I were to present her with evidence that the Seven Treasure Glaze Tile Sect was secretly building a private army, she would not see it as a political maneuver. She would see it as an act of treason. A direct challenge to her reign. And she would act. Immediately. And without mercy."
She looked at him, her gaze direct and unwavering. "And if, in the ensuing war, the Spirit Hall were to find itself in a… disadvantageous position, if the Seven Treasure Glaze Tile Sect, with its two magnificent Super Douluos and its newfound miraculous pills, were to somehow begin to win… then my grandfather would have no choice. He would be forced to intervene. Not for me. Not for the Supreme Pontiff. But to protect the very foundation of the Spirit Hall itself."
She smiled, and it was the smile of a queen who had just revealed her final, unbeatable trump card. "So you see, Zhang Tian," she purred, "in the end, the outcome is the same."
This time, it was Zhang Tian who was silent.
He looked at her, at the absolute, unshakeable conviction in her eyes, and he knew. She was right.
Bibi Dong was a fanatic. A creature of pure, unrestrained ambition and a deep, festering hatred for the world. She would not hesitate. She would burn the entire continent to the ground to achieve her goals. And Qian Daoliu, for all his honor, would never allow the institution his family had built over millennia to crumble into dust.
He had been outmaneuvered.
Ning Rongrong and Zhu Zhuqing saw it. They saw the flicker of something, a hint of a grim, reluctant acceptance, in his eyes. They saw that their magnificent, brilliant, and seemingly infallible husband had, for the first time since they had known him, lost a battle of wits.
Ning Rongrong gritted her teeth, a surge of pure, desperate, and surprisingly clear-headed resolve washing over her. She would not let this happen. She would not let this woman win.
'There must be a way,' she thought, her mind racing, a thousand different possibilities flashing through her mind. 'She doesn't want to destroy us. Not really. If she did, she would have just sent the report to the Supreme Pontiff. She wouldn't have come here. She wants something else. She wants him.'
The realization was a shard of ice in her heart. But it was also a key.
She took a deep, steadying breath.
"Fine," she said, her voice a clear, sharp sound that cut through the heavy, tense silence.
The word was so unexpected that it startled everyone in the room. Qian Renxue looked at her, a flicker of genuine surprise in her violet eyes. Zhang Tian and Zhu Zhuqing turned to her, their faces a mask of pure, bewildered confusion.
"We accept," Ning Rongrong continued, her voice gaining a new, firm, and surprisingly authoritative tone. "My husband… he will have tea with you."
"Rongrong, no!" Zhu Zhuqing's voice was a low, furious hiss.
"What are you doing?" Zhang Tian murmured, his own voice a mixture of confusion and a dawning, worried concern.
Ning Rongrong ignored them both. Her gaze was fixed on Qian Renxue, her eyes shining with a cool, strategic light that her father would have been proud of.
"But," she said, her voice a blade of pure, unyielding steel, "there will be conditions."
She took a step forward, her small frame radiating an aura of a princess who had just become a queen. "You will make a vow," she commanded. "A spirit vow. Upon your Six-Winged Angel spirit. You will swear that during these… 'tea meetings'… you will not cause my husband any physical harm. You will not use your spirit power, or the power of your subordinates, to coerce or force him to do anything against his will. And you will not use any despicable tricks, any poisons, any illusions, to harm him in any way."
Qian Renxue looked at her, at the fierce, unyielding determination in the young girl's eyes, and a slow, genuinely amused smile spread across her perfect lips.
'She is a clever little thing,' she thought, a flicker of grudging respect in her mind. 'She has recognized the nature of my desire, and she is trying to build a cage around it.'
She thought for a moment, her brilliant mind already formulating the perfect, loophole-ridden response.
"Very well," she said, her voice a smooth, agreeable melody. She raised a hand, and a brilliant, holy golden light began to emanate from her.
"I, Qian Renxue," she declared, her voice ringing with a formal, solemn power, "swear upon my Seraphim spirit. During my private, conversational meetings with Mister Zhang Tian, I will not cause him any intentional, direct physical harm. Nor will I use my own spirit power, or the power of my subordinates, to forcefully coerce him against his will."
The vow was a masterpiece of clever, legalistic wording. It was binding, yes. But it was also filled with beautiful, exploitable gaps. 'Intentional' harm left the door open for 'accidents'. 'Forcefully' coerce left the door open for seduction, for manipulation, for a hundred different, more subtle forms of persuasion.
Ning Rongrong heard the loopholes. She recognized the clever, deceptive nature of the vow. But she also recognized that it achieved her primary objective.
'His life will be safe,' she thought, a wave of profound relief washing over her. 'She cannot physically harm him. She cannot force him. The rest… the small, despicable tricks she will undoubtedly try to use… I will have to trust him to handle those himself.'
She had a plan for that, as well. A plan she would share with her husband and her sister-wife, later.
"The vow is acceptable," Ning Rongrong declared, her voice a cool, final note.
Qian Renxue smiled, her victory now absolute. "Excellent," she said. "Then I believe our business here is concluded. For now."
She looked at Zhang Tian, and her eyes were shining with a possessive, promising light. "I will expect you at the East Gate of the Imperial Palace this evening. Two hours after sunset. We will have our tea. And we will have our… discussion."
She gave a final, polite, and utterly triumphant nod to the two stunned, furious girls. "Little Sister Rongrong, Little Sister Zhuqing. It has been a pleasure."
With that, she turned and swept out of the room, her two Titled Douluo guardians falling into step behind her, a silent, powerful retinue.
The moment the grand, main doors of the estate clicked shut behind them, the tense, fragile peace in the living room shattered.
"Rongrong! What have you done?!" Zhu Zhuqing's voice was a low, furious hiss. She turned on her friend, her dark eyes blazing with a mixture of betrayal and disbelief. "What were you thinking?! You just handed him to her on a silver platter!"
Zhang Tian, who had been standing in a state of stunned, silent confusion, also turned to her. "She is right, Rongrong," he said, his voice a low, worried murmur. "Why did you agree to her terms? We could have found another way."
Ning Rongrong just looked at them, her expression no longer one of fury, but of a deep, profound, and weary sadness.
"No, we couldn't have," she said, her voice a quiet, tired sound. She walked to the sofa and sank into its plush cushions, her small body seeming to sag under the weight of her decision.
"Didn't you see it?" she asked, looking up at them, her eyes shining with a new, hard-won, and deeply unsettling wisdom. "We were outmatched. Completely. Our sect, our grandpas, our power… it's all just a child's game to them. To her."
She began to explain, her voice a low, analytical murmur that was a perfect, chilling imitation of her father's, "From the conversation that you two were having, I realized something. There is a division in the Spirit Hall."
"There is the Pope's Palace," she said, her voice a low, grim sound, "controlled by the Supreme Pontiff. The one she said was impatient, the one who would declare war on us without a second thought. That is one power."
"And then," she continued, her gaze direct and unwavering, "there is the Elder Hall. The place where her grandfather, the Limit Douluo, resides. The place where she holds her true power. That is the other."
She looked at them, her eyes shining with a brilliant, strategic light. "They are not a monolith. They are two separate, competing powers. And today… today, she showed us her hand. She threatened us with the Pope's power, not her own. Why? Because she does not want to destroy us. She wants to recruit us. Or rather," she said, her gaze shifting to Zhang Tian, a faint, wry smile on her lips, "she wants to recruit you."
She saw the dawning understanding in their eyes and pressed on.
"She is impressed with you, Zhang Tian," she said, her voice a simple, direct statement of fact. "Your intelligence, your talent… it has captured her attention. She does not see you as an enemy. She sees you as a prize to be won. And this… this is our only advantage."
She stood up, her weariness gone, replaced by a new, fierce, and incredibly cunning resolve. "Today, I realized something. Our sect, for all its wealth, is weak. We are a beautiful, fragile vase in a world of hammers. And the Spirit Hall is the biggest hammer of them all. If we are to survive, if we are to prosper, we cannot fight them. Not head-on. We need… an ally. A powerful, influential ally, on the inside."
She looked at Zhang Tian, and her expression was one of profound, absolute, and almost terrifying love and trust.
"I want you to turn this woman, this Qian Renxue, into that ally," she declared, her voice ringing with a new, queenly authority. "I want you to go to these meetings. I want you to let her believe she is seducing you, that she is recruiting you. I want you to play her game. And I want you to win."
She then looked at him, and her fierce, strategic expression softened, replaced by a look of profound, vulnerable love. "I know what I am asking," she whispered, her voice a little shaky. "And I know it is unfair. To use you like this… to use our love, our bond, as a tool for the sect's prosperity… if you are angry with me, if you hate me for this, I will understand."
Zhang Tian just looked at her, at the beautiful, brilliant, and incredibly brave woman who stood before him. And he began to laugh.
It was not a laugh of amusement. It was a laugh of pure, unadulterated pride.
He crossed the room in two long strides and pulled her into a tight, fierce hug. He kissed her, not with the gentle passion of a lover, but with the profound, all-consuming pride of a man who had just seen the true, magnificent depth of his partner's soul.
"Angry?" he said, his voice a low, rumbling sound against her hair. "Rongrong, my love, how could I ever be angry with you?"
He pulled back, his hands cupping her face, his thumbs gently wiping away the single, silent tear that had escaped her eye.
"You are my wife. Your wishes are my commands. There is no 'using' between a husband and a wife. You saw an opportunity, a dangerous, risky, and incredibly brilliant one, to turn a powerful enemy into a potential ally. And you took it. For the good of your family. For the good of our family," He said with a soft voice.
He looked at her, and his eyes were shining with a deep, unwavering love. "The sect is not just your home, Rongrong. It is mine now, too. Your father, your grandpas… they are my family. Of course, I want to see the sect prosper. Of course, I will do whatever it takes to protect it."
Ning Rongrong's heart, which had been a tight, anxious knot in her chest, finally, completely, and blissfully relaxed. She let out a soft, happy sob and buried her face in his chest.
"Don't worry," she mumbled. "It's all for you, anyway. One day, after my daddy retires, you will be the one to lead the Seven Treasure Glaze Tile Sect."
Zhu Zhuqing, who had been a silent, watchful observer to their intimate, emotional exchange, finally spoke. A slow, genuine, and incredibly beautiful smile spread across her face.
"She is right, you know," she said, her voice a low, warm murmur. She walked to them and joined the hug, her own arms wrapping around both of them.
She then looked at Zhang Tian, and her smile faded, replaced by a look of deep, serious concern. "But you must be careful, Zhang Tian," she said, her voice a low, cautionary sound. "That woman… Qian Renxue… she is not just intelligent. She is a master of deception. And there is a strange, obsessive light in her eyes when she looks at you. Be on your guard. At all times."
He just nodded, his own expression turning serious. He held his two beautiful, brilliant, and fiercely protective wives close, a profound, unwavering resolve solidifying in his heart.
~~
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