The vast, opulent stillness of her private chamber was a deceptive façade. For Bibi Dong, the world had narrowed to the tumultuous, rhythmic beat of three hearts within her, a constant, dizzying reminder that the course of her carefully planned future had already veered wildly off-script.
She sat upon her silk-draped bed, her body heavy with the imminent arrival of her children, her mind a frantic maelstrom of strategic thought and profound mystery.
Twins.
The knowledge still struck her with a cold, almost disorienting shock, even weeks after the Healers had confirmed it.
In the broken memories of her future self—the self who had lived through the betrayal, the triumph, and the agonizing end—there had only ever been one: Qian Renxue. The beautiful, perfect vessel of the Angel God, raised by the hateful Qian Xunji to be the heir and the weapon.
Where did this boy come from?
She ran a delicate hand over the swelling curve of her abdomen, feeling the distinct, separate movements of two souls stirring within. The boy was an anomaly, an unwritten chapter.
Yet, the moment the Healers had identified his presence, a name had sprung, fully formed, into her consciousness, whispered not by her own conscious mind, but by some deep, hidden wellspring of past existence: Yorrichi.
She chuckled softly, a dry, self-deprecating sound. "Yorrichi." It sounded foreign, alien, carrying the faint, distant echo of a world she had only half-remembered. It had to be a consequence of the transmigration that had saved her soul and gifted her this second chance.
Her powerful, high-level soul essence—the culmination of both her past life and the cultivation of her present—could perceive the subtle, psychic residue left by the collision of two realities. The name was a key, a subconscious fragment that had resurfaced under the intense spiritual pressure of dual creation.
It was more than just a name, however. Through her high-level soul power, which was already pushing of spirit sage, she could perceive the deep, intrinsic connection between the two tiny lives.
They were not merely siblings; they were fundamentally woven together, their nascent spirits forming a symbiotic bond. They drew strength from each other, their chaotic energy patterns flowing into a single, cohesive current.
They are connected very much, she thought, a sense of awe replacing her initial shock. It must be Heaven's goodwill.
In her previous life, she had failed Renxue by allowing the cycle of abuse and manipulation to consume her daughter's childhood. Now, she had a boy—a perfect, blank slate. A second chance to prove her capability as a mother, and a strategic opportunity.
Since it is a boy, I can raise him as my perfect ideal man. A man strong enough to protect his sister, wise enough to scorn the superficial power of Spirit Hall's hierarchy, and—most importantly—showered with love equally with Renxue.
Yorrichi would be instilled with the morals and integrity that the vast majority of human Soul Masters, particularly those in the upper echelons of power, seemed to lack. He would be her champion, her protector, forged in love rather than the toxic ambition that had corrupted her own life.
This internal reflection soon drifted toward the state of the organization she was soon to inherit. Her memory of the future had been dominated by grand, strategic conflicts and the pursuit of ultimate power, making her overlook the petty tyranny that thrived below.
Now, with a clear mind and fresh eyes, she realized how corrupted the Spirit Hall had become at the ground level. The lower ranks preyed on the weak, abused their authority, and were rotten with bribery and arrogance—a cancer that would eat away at the organization's foundation if left unchecked.
This corruption was linked to a deeper, more profound secret she had uncovered through relentless study of ancient texts and her own spiritual insights into the divine. A secret related directly to her daughter's destiny: the nature of Godhood.
A God, she realized, did not rely solely on the strength of their inherited position or their personal power derived from cultivation. They were profoundly tied to the mortal plane in a specific, crucial way: faith.
A god can be stronger by their own cultivation and by the faith of the people also. The more mortals believed, the more they worshipped, the more devoutly they relied on the God for blessings or fear, the more faith that God collected. This collected spiritual energy, or faith-power, was a direct amplifier of their divine might, accelerating their trials and fortifying their presence.
This revelation offered a brilliant, two-fold solution to her biggest strategic problems.
First, it offered a path to clean up the corruption. After she became Pope, she planned to leverage her control. She would use the support of Chrysanthemum and Ghost Douluo—two powerful Title Douluo who were pragmatic and fiercely loyal to the institution, rather than any individual—to begin systematically rooting out the worst offenders at the ground level.
Second, and most critically, she would exploit the faith mechanic for Renxue.
If the Angel God relies on faith, then I must provide the source. She planned to commission the construction and placement of Angel God statues in every single village and city across the continent.
This immense, silent ritual of worship would funnel torrents of pure faith-power directly to Renxue, allowing her to easily overcome the trials of the Angel God inheritance and ensuring she emerged as a stronger Angel God than ever before. This preparation would secure Renxue's future and cement the Spirit Hall's divine power for generations.
A heavy shadow passed over her thoughts—the memory of Qian Daoliu, the Angel God's great priest, sacrificing himself in the future to complete Renxue's final trial. Renxue loved her grandfather fiercely, a bond Bibi Dong could never break.
This is an unforeseen variable, she mused, her brow furrowing slightly. By accelerating Renxue's strength and providing an immense source of faith-power, she speculated,
This massive influx of faith might lessen the chance of Qian Daoliu's tragic death. Perhaps Renxue will not need his soul and life essence to cross the final threshold. It was a hope, not a certainty, but the possibility was enough to drive her.
The grand, intricate calculus of divinity and political power faded as a sharp, intense contraction seized her abdomen. The time for planning was ending; the time for action—and birth—was beginning. A profound excitement, a raw, primal maternal instinct, flooded her body, overriding her composure. Her little angels were coming.
The sound of heavy, measured footsteps echoed outside her chamber door, steps she recognized with instant, cold contempt. Qian Xunji.
The door slid open, revealing the imposing figure of the Supreme Pontiff. His golden armor seemed to glare in the room's soft light, and his face was set in a mask of professional, icy detachment.
He did not approach her; he merely stood a respectful—or rather, a calculated—distance away, his presence radiating possessive scrutiny.
"The time is approaching," Qian Xunji stated, his voice ringing with a cold, clinical authority, devoid of any warmth or affection.
"I have personally ensured that several high-level Heal Masters are stationed in the adjacent room. They are the best the Hall possesses, and they are prepared to respond to any complication immediately."
He paused, his golden eyes narrowing slightly, piercing her with a barely contained hostility. His final words were delivered as a sharp, cutting threat, reminding her of the absolute control he wielded.
"Bibi Dong, you will inform them immediately if there is any discomfort. Do not, under any circumstance, attempt to do something funny during this period. The birth of the heir to the Angel God lineage is of paramount concern to Spirit Hall. I trust you understand the gravity of the situation."
Bibi Dong met his gaze, her own eyes—though veiled with maternal exhaustion—holding a chilling, ancient scorn that he failed to detect. She gave him a slow, deliberate nod, the motion of her head a gesture of weary compliance.
"I understand, Master," she replied, her voice low and steady. "The matter concerns the heir of Spirit Hall. I would never dream of compromising its future."
As he turned, his back still radiating tense vigilance, Bibi Dong allowed a single, dangerous thought to cross her mind: I won't compromise Spirit Hall's future. I will merely ensure its future belongs entirely to my children, and absolutely not to you.
The agonizing, beautiful wait was over. The game had just begun.
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💡 Author's Note :
Ah!! Such love and passion from her is unexpected right but after experiencing like her, any normal would do and change their thinking. Comment me how are u reacting after reading this. Comment freely becoz freedom is the basic right. Goodbye!!!