In the Hall of History, Before the Phoenix
Gu Yue's status acted as a silent key. At her approach, a staff member's eyes widened slightly at the badge she produced—a small, intricate emblem of platinum and azure. "Respected Spirit Pagoda Master," the woman said, her tone shifting to one of immediate deference. "Please, follow me."
She guided them away from the main queue, towards a secluded corridor marked with subtle silver inlays. 'Spirit Pagoda Master?' Yao Xuan mused, filing the title away. Within the Pagoda's hierarchy—from Tower Master down to Spirit Transmitter Soldier—this placed Gu Yue remarkably high, likely at the 'Spirit Transmitter' tier, a management rank equivalent to a Tang Sect Deacon. For a girl of ten, it spoke volumes of both her perceived value and the formidable influence of her teacher.
The security check in the private channel was no less thorough, but it was swift and respectful. Soon, they passed through the monumental archway and into the heart of the Heavenly Spirit Tower.
The grand hall stole Yao Xuan's breath. Soaring thirty meters to a vaulted ceiling, it was a cathedral of polished marble and calibrated light. The air itself hummed with a low-frequency energy, the ambient power of the colossal soul tool encasing them. But it was the walls that commanded attention—vast, continuous murals rendered in luminous stone and precious metal.
They depicted a saga. The heroic, determined visage of the Spirit Ice Douluo, Huo Yuhao. The elegant, powerful form of the Dragon Butterfly Douluo, Tang Wutong. Scenes of discovery: the first artificial spirit, the blueprint for the Spirit Ascension Platform. It was a testament to the Pagoda's founding mythos.
A familiar, grim sadness curled in Yao Xuan's chest as he walked beside Gu Yue, their footsteps echoing softly. Huo Yuhao. Tang Wutong. In the public narrative, they were peerless heroes. In the truth he carried, they were two of Tang San's most tragic pawns.
Huo Yuhao had been the continent's second Chosen One, his destiny intertwined with its liberation. The million-year first spirit ring, the cascading fortuitous encounters—they were the world itself investing in its champion. His true mission should have been to break the God Realm's chains.
Instead, Tang San had used his own daughter as the ultimate bait. He split Tang Wutong's soul, sealed her memories, and dangled her before Huo Yuhao, orchestrating a 'love story' that ended with the Chosen One's co-option into the very system he was born to dismantle. Huo Yuhao's later contributions were real—the spirit system had saved countless lives and eased human-beast conflict—but they were a diversion from his greater purpose. He became the Emotional God, a respected but ultimately sidelined figure in the divine bureaucracy, while the continent he was meant to free continued to bleed.
And Tang Wutong… a mere instrument in her father's scheme. Her happiness was a calculated variable in a cold equation.
'Sophisticated egoist,' Yao Xuan thought, the old contempt a cold stone in his gut. Tang San sacrificed everyone—his children, his world—on the altar of his own power and security. The pity Yao Xuan felt for Huo Yuhao and Tang Wutong was profound. They were victims, their inherent kindness and love twisted into tools for a higher, crueler design.
Gu Yue, sensing his pensive silence, gave his hand a slight, questioning squeeze. He met her silver eyes and offered a small, reassuring smile, pulling his thoughts back to the present, to the girl beside him who was not a pawn, but a willing partner in a different kind of rebellion.
They reached a bank of elevators with doors like burnished ruby. Gu Yue's badge triggered one, and they stepped into a capsule of silent, accelerated ascent. A minute later, the doors opened not onto another bustling corridor, but onto a realm of quiet awe.
They stood in a serene, spacious lobby. The exterior wall was a single, seamless curve of transparent crystal. Beyond it, a vast ocean of clouds stretched to the horizon, tinged gold by the high-altitude sun. They were hundreds of meters in the sky, in the rarefied domain of the Pagoda's uppermost echelons.
"Wait a moment," Gu Yue whispered. She released his hand to tap a message into her soul communicator, speaking softly into it. After a brief exchange, she returned, her expression a blend of fondness and focused anticipation. "She's ready for us."
They approached a door of frosted silver metal, devoid of handle or keyhole. Gu Yue pressed her badge against it. A beam of light scanned her.
"Identity verification in progress."
"Identity verification successful."
With a near-silent hiss, the door retracted.
The room within was a study in powerful simplicity. It was spacious, with clean lines and furniture that blended modern minimalism with classic elegance. The cloud-scape provided a breathtaking, ever-moving backdrop.
And there, rising from behind a broad, polished desk of dark wood, was the woman.
She was tall and poised, her figure elegant and strong. Her hair was a cascade of vibrant, fiery red, meticulously styled yet hinting at a contained vitality. Her skin was flawless, glowing with the radiance of supreme health and cultivation—the privilege of a Level 98 Transcendent Douluo whose body had long since ceased to age. She could have been mistaken for a woman in the prime of her youth, were it not for the depth in her eyes—eyes that held the weight of decades of leadership, battle, and immense responsibility.
A warm, assessing smile touched the lips of the Heavenly Phoenix Douluo, Leng Yaozhu. Her gaze, sharp and intelligent, swept over Gu Yue with clear affection before settling, with calm, undeniable intensity, on Yao Xuan. The air in the room seemed to still, charged with the presence of one of the most powerful beings on the continent.
The meeting had begun.