From Douluo Dalu Angel Becomes God Almighty of LOTM

After all the excitement of the past few days, Qian Renxue finally surrendered to exhaustion.

The moment she lay down in her room at the Elders' Hall, sleep claimed her.

When she awoke the next morning, the soft sunlight was already streaming through the window.

A maid knocked lightly and entered, bowing respectfully before helping her prepare for the day.

However, Qian Renxue politely waved her off.

She changed clothes on her own, as always.

No matter how young her body appeared, her soul inside was that of an adult from a modern world.

The thought of letting others dress her like a doll left her feeling awkward and uncomfortable.

After finishing, she looked at her reflection.

Standing before the mirror was a beautiful young girl, no more than five or six years old.

Her golden hair cascaded like a soft waterfall down her back, shimmering with a faint luster under the light.

Her features were delicate and ethereal—curved eyebrows, a small nose, and pink lips slightly pursed in thought.

Large, intelligent purple eyes gazed back at her, filled with a calm far beyond her apparent age.

Clad in the light robes of Spirit Hall embroidered with cloud patterns, she resembled an angelic figure descending from the heavens—pure, proud, and untouchable.

But Qian Renxue knew appearances could deceive.

Underneath that innocent visage hid a soul tempered by two lives, bearing ambitions that would shake the future of the world.

She straightened her sleeves neatly and turned away from the mirror.

It was time to begin the next phase of her plan.

First—gather knowledge about the soul master cultivation system.

Unlike her blurry memories of novel or rough settings of this world, she needed concrete, systematic information to plan her path forward, whether she chose to follow the way of a Beyonder, a Soul Master, or something beyond both.

For that, she needed to visit Spirit Hall's library—a treasure trove of ancient wisdom.

However, accessing the higher levels of the library was restricted.

She needed an official token granting her permission.

And to receive it, she would have to go see the man who was nominally her father—Qian Xunji.

Without hesitation, she left the Elders' Hall and made her way toward the Pope's Hall.

....

The Elders' Hall and the Pope's Hall were two distinct pillars of Spirit Hall's structure.

The Elders' Hall was the gathering place of Spirit Hall's most senior figures whose cultivation is 95 and above and so had withdrawn from active leadership but still held tremendous influence.

It was a place of tradition, where wisdom accumulated through centuries was preserved, and where major decisions required the consensus of these ancient powerhouses.

The Pope's Hall, on the other hand, was the seat of active authority.

The Pope ruled Spirit Hall with an iron will, commanding all operations, diplomacy, and military might.

In Spirit Hall, the Pope was the Supreme Pontiff.

.....

When Qian Renxue entered the Pope's Hall, a heavy silence blanketed the enormous space.

At the center of the hall, seated high upon the main throne, was Qian Xunji.

Qian Renxue's steps slowed as she gazed at him.

He was a man in his prime,around thirty-five to forty years old—his appearance proud and imposing.

His figure was tall and straight, exuding an aura of commanding authority.

His golden robes were embroidered with intricate spirit patterns, each shimmering faintly with spirit power.

Long hair the color of molten gold was tied neatly behind his back, and his sharp, angular features seemed carved from cold jade.

His eyes were the most striking—narrow and cold, gleaming with a haughty brilliance that looked down on the world.

Those eyes bore the arrogance of a ruler and the vigilance of a hunter.

This was Qian Xunji—the once-proud heir of Spirit Hall, and now its Pope.

At this moment, he rested one elbow lazily on the armrest, his chin propped against a hand as he reviewed several reports.

Even sitting casually, his presence weighed heavily upon the hall, pressing down like an invisible mountain.

Seeing Qian Renxue approach, he slowly raised his gaze.

The moment their eyes met, the atmosphere shifted subtly.

Qian Xunji's gaze rested on her for a long moment before he spoke, his voice deep and steady.

"You've recovered well," he said, almost mechanically. "I heard you were injured some time ago.

I'm glad you're safe."

His words seemed appropriate on the surface—caring, even.

But to Qian Renxue, they rang hollow.

She lowered her head slightly in polite acknowledgment but said nothing in return.

This man—this so-called father—had never once come to visit her after her injury.

Not once had he sat by her bedside, shown genuine concern, or offered comfort.

It was as if her life or death had no weight in his heart.

His "concern" today felt no different than a perfunctory greeting exchanged between distant officials.

Qian Renxue stood quietly, the emotions in her heart hidden behind the perfect facade of a well-trained noble child.

Just as the silence began to stretch awkwardly between them—

"Master."

A soft, respectful voice interrupted from the side.

The moment the voice echoed through the hall, Qian Renxue's heart gave an involuntary tremble.

That voice...

She instinctively turned her head to look—and her purple eyes widened slightly.

From the side corridor of the hall, a woman approached with graceful steps.

It was Bibi Dong.

She was beautiful—so beautiful that it almost seemed otherworldly.

Her figure was tall and slender, wrapped in Spirit Hall's high-ranking ceremonial robes, embroidered with silver threads that glistened with subtle light.

The white and gold garments outlined her graceful curves, but not provocatively—it was a dignity both cold and noble.

Her skin was pale, as if carved from fine porcelain, smooth without the slightest flaw.

Long, flowing lavender hair cascaded down her back like a silken waterfall, swaying gently with her steps.

Her face was exquisite—an oval shape with delicate features; elegant eyebrows, a slender nose, and soft, full lips.

Her eyes... her eyes were a brilliant amethyst color, deep and mysterious, as if hiding countless secrets within their depths.

But beneath her celestial beauty, Qian Renxue could sense a bone-deep coldness.

Her expression was gentle, but not warm—it was the kind of smile that kept people at a distance, wrapped in an impenetrable layer of frost.

She walked with an innate grace, her every movement calculated yet natural, exuding a noble majesty that made it impossible to look down on her.

This was Bibi Dong—the disciple of Qian Xunji, the future Pope, and...

Qian Renxue's biological mother.

An ironic relationship none of them spoke about openly.

Bibi Dong approached the throne and knelt on one knee respectfully.

"Master," she said again, her voice calm, betraying no emotion.

Qian Xunji gave a slight nod in acknowledgment, his cold gaze softening just slightly when directed toward her.

Meanwhile, Qian Renxue stood silently to the side, her tiny fists clenched unconsciously within her sleeves as if her body was out of her control.

Qian Renxue quietly lowered her head, hiding the turbulence in her eyes.

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Author notes: Qian Renxue came in front of her parents wearing a mask, but the question is how many masks her parents were wearing?