**Chapter 10: The Procession of Dread**
Luo Yan stepped out of the carriage. The air of Spirit City was crisp, clean, and humming with a concentration of ambient spirit power that dwarfed even Heaven Dou City. Imposing, elegant architecture of white stone and dark metal rose around them, a testament to the wealth and absolute authority of the continent's most powerful organization. This was the heart of the beast.
Two Papal Knights, elite guards clad in magnificent, intricately engraved silver armor, stood watch at the district gate. They were Jian and Feng, both having broken through to the Spirit Emperor level a decade ago, their pride forged in the crucible of Spirit Hall's brutal training.
Their eyes, sharp and disciplined, immediately fell on Luo Yan.
Their highly trained senses swept over him and found… nothing. A void. Not the suppressed energy of a hidden master, but a complete and utter absence of spirit power, as if he were a commoner who had somehow wandered into the most restricted area on the continent.
Their hands instinctively moved to the hilts of their spirit-infused longswords, their expressions hardening into masks of cold duty.
"Halt," Jian began, his voice a low growl. "This is a restricted zone. State your purpose or—"
He never finished the sentence.
Hu Liena emerged from the carriage behind Luo Yan.
The Knights' eyes widened in recognition. Their professional belligerence vanished, replaced instantly by deference. They straightened their backs, preparing to offer a crisp, formal salute to their Holy Maiden, the untouchable genius of the Golden Generation.
But the salute died in their throats, their hands frozen midway to their chests.
This was not the Hu Liena they knew. The proud, bewitching woman who walked with the confidence of a predator, whose every glance was a mixture of playful cunning and sharp intelligence, was gone. In her place was a woman with her head slightly, almost imperceptibly, bowed. Her foxy, almond-shaped eyes were wide, fixed on the back of the man before her. They held no cunning, no pride—only a deep, soul-shaking, and utterly vacant reverence. It was the look of a devout believer who has just witnessed the descent of their god, their own will entirely subsumed by a greater presence.
Most shocking of all was her position. As the man took a step forward, she moved fluidly, maintaining a precise distance of a half-step behind him. It wasn't the posture of an equal, nor of a guide leading a guest. It was the unquestionable, instinctive posture of a junior acolyte following their revered master.
This single, silent image was a psychological shockwave more potent than any spirit ability. Before a single word of explanation, Luo Yan's terrifying, incomprehensible status was established. Jian and Feng felt a cold sweat bead on their brows beneath their heavy helmets. Their battle-honed instincts, which had saved them from ambushes and powerful spirit beasts, weren't screaming *danger*.
They were screaming *wrongness*. An existential dread washed over them, a primal urge not to fight, but to kneel, to make themselves as small as possible in the face of something absolute.
Their hands dropped from their swords as if they were hot coals. They snapped to attention, their bodies rigid, their gazes fixed forward, not daring to meet the stranger's eyes again.
Just as the oppressive silence became unbearable, Ghost Douluo's spectral form materialized beside them. His materialization was usually a smooth, chilling fade into reality. This time, his form flickered, wavering like a candle in a gale, a clear sign of his spiritual instability.
The fearsome Elder of Spirit Hall did not swagger. He did not issue a single command. He ignored the two stunned knights and bowed before Luo Yan, a deep and respectful gesture that sent another tremor of shock through all who witnessed it.
"Senior," he said, his voice imbued with the utmost deference.
"Your accommodations in the Elder's guest wing have been prepared. Please, this way."
"Lead on," Luo Yan replied, his tone as casual as if he were asking for directions.
And so, the procession of dread began.
They walked down the Grand Papal Boulevard, a wide avenue paved with flawless white marble, flanked by towering statues of past Popes. It was a path usually reserved for the reigning Pope or for triumphant armies returning from conquest. Now, it was trod by the silent 'god', the reverent Holy Maiden, and the terrified Elder.
A group of senior students from the Spirit Hall Academy, all Spirit Kings in their early twenties, were walking towards them, laughing and boasting. They were the cream of the crop, arrogant in their talent. One of them, a brash youth named Lei Ze, had a well-known crush on Hu Liena.
"There she is! The Holy Maiden!" he said, his chest puffing out. "Watch, I'll go say—"
His words caught in his throat. He and his friends froze, their boisterous energy evaporating. They saw their idol, the woman every one of them dreamed of impressing, following an unknown man like a shadow. Her usual fiery spirit was gone, replaced by a doe-eyed subservience that shattered their perception of her. They saw Elder Ghost, a figure from legends and nightmares, acting like a meek servant.
The students instinctively flattened themselves against the base of a nearby statue, their heads bowed, not daring to breathe as the procession passed. The world had just been turned upside-down.
Further down the boulevard, a middle-aged administrator, a respected Spirit Sage who managed the city's resources, watched from his office window. His experienced eyes saw what the students had missed. It wasn't just fear on Ghost Douluo's face; it was an ecstatic terror, the look of a man who has touched divinity and fears being incinerated by it. And the stranger… he wasn't arrogant. He wasn't proud. He was entirely, utterly indifferent. He looked at Spirit City's grandeur not with awe, but with the detached air of a landlord inspecting a minor, somewhat quaint, piece of property. The administrator felt a chill run down his spine. This wasn't a guest being honored. This was a god being appeased.
During the walk, Luo Yan allowed his consciousness to drift. He wasn't interested in the awestruck mortals. His perception, operating on a level they couldn't dream of, was scanning the city. He mapped its energy grids, the intricate detection formations woven into the very stones, the concentration of power in the Papal Palace. He noted the dark, twisted, and resentful energy signature of the Rakshasa inheritance coiling around the palace's peak like a venomous snake.
*All of this, for her,* he thought, a flicker of warmth passing through him as he recalled his promise to Qian Renxue. This city, this power, this confrontation—it was all a means to an end. Her end. The resolution of her pain.
It was in that moment, as he walked the path of his future conquest, that he felt it. A clear, distinct wave of emotion through the `[Heart's Dominion]`. From across the empire, he felt Qian Renxue's distant flicker of possessiveness, an emotion so new and raw for her. It was immediately followed by a conscious act of will as she quelled it, replacing it with a surge of pure, unconditional trust and love. It was a silent message, sent across the miles: *I trust you. I am with you.*
A faint, almost imperceptible smile touched Luo Yan's lips. The administrator watching from the window saw it and shivered. It was a smile that held no warmth for them, a private amusement in the face of their city's silent panic.
The procession turned into the Elder's district, a place of serene gardens and elegant manors reserved for the Titled Douluo. They approached the most prestigious guest manor, a building usually reserved for visiting royalty from the two great empires.
"Senior, please make yourself comfortable," Ghost Douluo said, bowing again. His desire to flee and report to the Pope was a palpable thing. "I must report immediately to Her Holiness."
"Do so," Luo Yan said, waving a dismissive hand. He then glanced at Hu Liena, who had stood silently by his side the entire time, absorbing the reactions of everyone they passed. "You. Stay. Pour the tea."
For any other woman of her status, it would have been a demeaning, unacceptable order. For Hu Liena, whose entire worldview had been shattered and was now being rebuilt around the man in front of her, it was a profound blessing.
It meant he wanted her to remain in his presence. It meant she was chosen. It meant she might learn more of the secrets to true power.
"Yes, Senior," she replied without a moment's hesitation, her voice filled with an eagerness that would have been unthinkable just hours before.
As Ghost Douluo's spectral form vanished, speeding away towards the Papal Palace like a soul fleeing damnation, Luo Yan stepped into the manor. Hu Liena followed, pulling the heavy doors closed behind them.
The game of whispers was over. The harbinger of doom was now on his way, and the greatest powers in Spirit Hall were about to receive a report that would shake the very foundations of their world.
To be continue.