Emperor Dai Xing leaned forward slightly, the richness of his imperial robes rustling softly in the otherwise quiet chamber. His voice, usually measured and calm, now held a distinct thread of urgency.
"Therefore, Madam Tang Yuehua," he pressed, his gaze fixed on the elegant woman before him, "I must implore the Clear Sky Clan to maintain the utmost vigilance."
He paused, letting the weight of his words settle. "If the Spirit Hall is truly plotting something… something sinister… we cannot afford to be caught unprepared. The Star Luo Empire needs allies it can count on."
'Will they agree? They must,' Dai Xing thought, a flicker of anxiety tightening his chest. 'The Spirit Hall's ambition knows no bounds. Without the Clear Sky Clan's strength…'
A brief, almost imperceptible silence hung in the air before Tang Yuehua's voice, soft yet resonant, filled the space.
"Rest assured, Your Majesty."
Her tone was calming, carrying the inherent grace of the Moon Pavilion's mistress.
"The Clear Sky Clan fully comprehends the gravity of this delicate situation."
She met his gaze evenly. "We will, naturally, stand with the Star Luo Empire and offer our support during these… trying times."
'Good,' the Emperor exhaled inwardly, a wave of relief washing over him, easing the tension in his shoulders. 'Knowing the Clear Sky Clan is ready to act… that brings some measure of comfort. It is a significant measure.'
Having the legendary Clear Sky Clan, even in their semi-secluded state, prepared to counter the Spirit Hall was a strategic coup.
But then, Tang Yuehua's tone shifted subtly. The inherent politeness remained, but a layer of businesslike firmness emerged.
"However, Your Majesty," she added, her voice smooth as silk yet carrying an undeniable edge.
'Ah, here it comes,' Dai Xing anticipated. 'There's always a condition.'
"I must gently remind you of your side of our recently forged agreement."
Tang Yuehua's expression remained placid, but her eyes held a clear message.
"My nephew, Tang San… he has specific requirements. Certain rare materials and spiritual herbs."
Her voice gained a touch more emphasis. "Their timely provision is… quite crucial. For his ongoing endeavors."
A minuscule frown flickered across Emperor Dai Xing's brow, gone as quickly as it appeared. He smoothed his expression back into one of regal assurance.
"Of course, Madam Tang Yuehua. Absolutely."
He gave a slight nod. "The resources you requested, the precise list provided by your nephew, are already being gathered with the utmost priority."
"They will be delivered to the location specified as soon as they are fully assembled. Please, assure Young Master Tang San that the Star Luo Empire always honors its commitments."
'Especially commitments made to the Clear Sky Clan,' he mentally added. 'Tang San… such a remarkable young man. His potential is staggering. It is worth the investment.'
Outside the chamber, concealed by layers of stealth techniques and the inherent power of his spirit, Song Qing listened intently. Every word spoken within reached his ears clearly.
A surge of keen interest pulsed through him at the mention of Tang San's name.
'Tang San? Involved directly in procuring resources through the Empire?'
A slow, predatory smirk played on Song Qing's lips, hidden beneath the disguise he still maintained.
'Well, well. This confirms everything.'
His suspicions regarding the depth of the alliance between the Star Luo Empire and the re-emerging Clear Sky Clan were now solidified beyond doubt.
'So, Tang Hao truly did it,' Song Qing mused, a distinct feeling of vindictive satisfaction warming him. 'He swallowed that immense pride of his and crawled back to the clan elders, didn't he?'
The image was delicious. Tang Hao, the peerless Clear Sky Douluo, the man who had defied the entire Spirit Hall for a spirit beast, now humbled. Returning, tail tucked between his legs, likely begging for acceptance. All because his precious wife, Ah Yin, had… 'disappeared'… thanks to Song Qing's intervention.
'He must be absolutely desperate,' Song Qing savored the thought. 'Desperate to train Tang San. Desperate for revenge. Against me? Against the Spirit Hall? Both, undoubtedly.'
It was practically a certainty. Tang San, now reunited with his formidable father and backed by the considerable resources and heritage of the Clear Sky Clan, would be on an accelerated path. His growth in power would likely be explosive.
'His Blue Silver Grass… no, the Blue Silver Emperor spirit which should have been awakened by his father by taking him to that Blue Silver Grass Forest,' Song Qing corrected himself, 'it will flourish under the clan's nurturing. They possess techniques and knowledge he could only dream of before.'
'And perhaps… yes, it's highly probable… he's begun training with his second spirit.'
The thought sent another ripple of dark amusement through him.
'The Clear Sky Hammer. The ultimate power tool of the world's number one sect.'
The image of Tang San, small and wiry despite his growth, attempting to wield that monstrous weapon… it didn't inspire fear in Song Qing. Not in the slightest. It was almost… quaint.
'Let him train. Let him grow strong.'
Moreover, Song Qing knew of Tang San's skill. His expertise in hidden weapons and, more pertinent, poisons. His encyclopedic knowledge of spiritual herbs and their effects was legendary even in his previous life, and likely expanded upon here.
'He'll be using those skills, won't he?' Song Qing deduced easily. 'Brewing concoctions, identifying herbs, enhancing the strength of not just himself, but the Clear Sky Clan disciples. Maybe even providing specialized toxins or enhancement drugs for the Star Luo military.'
A flicker of smugness touched his thoughts. 'He won't find any of the truly priceless Immortal Herbs, though. Not the ones that matter most. I made sure of that when I cleared out the Ice and Fire Yin Yang Well.'
His mind drifted briefly to the incredible treasures he had secured, treasures that had fundamentally boosted his own power and potential.
'But,' he conceded, 'with the Star Luo Empire's vast territory and connections, Tang San might just stumble upon some unique, lesser-known spiritual herbs. Things only he recognizes the true value of, herbs the Empire itself hasn't fully understood or exploited yet.'
The possibilities were intriguing.
The more Song Qing contemplated the intricate web connecting Tang San, Tang Hao, the Clear Sky Clan, and the Star Luo Empire, the more a cold, sharp sense of anticipation bubbled within his chest. It was a hunter's thrill, the predatory excitement before the final chase.
'Tang San… Tang Hao…' he thought, the names like pieces on a chessboard. 'All their planning, their desperate efforts, their years of sacrifice and hard work… accumulating power…'
A dark, chilling smile touched his lips again, unseen by anyone.
'It will be utterly, exquisitely satisfying to crush them. To shatter their hopes and grind their ambitions into dust. Completely and irrevocably.'
And then, there was the lingering matter of Ah Yin. Tang San's mother. The Blue Silver Emperor currently recuperating within his own Primordial Life Tree Spirit's domain.
Song Qing hadn't forgotten the promise he'd made to her – a promise extracted under duress, fueled by her maternal desperation.
'The more Tang San struggles, the more he tries to attack me or the Spirit Hall…' A diabolical seed of a plan began to sprout in his mind, twisted and cruel. '…The more justification I'll have to let him live. Just barely. To keep him alive, broken but breathing.'
'Fulfilling my end of the bargain with his dear mother Ah Yin who loves him very much.'
The thought of her, the noble Blue Silver Emperor, eventually having to beg him, Song Qing for her son's miserable life…
'Yes,' he mused, the dark thrill intensifying. 'That holds a certain… undeniable appeal.'
He had lingered long enough. The crucial information – the confirmation of the alliance, the details of the resource request for Tang San, the implied desperation of Tang Hao – was secured.
There was no need to push his luck, no need to risk even the slightest chance of discovery by the Emperor or any hidden guards.
With a subtle, almost subconscious mental command, Song Qing focused his intent. He activated the discrete Void Anchor he had strategically placed within Zhu Zhuqing's chamber earlier, a tiny ripple in spacetime perceptible only to him.
He simultaneously channeled the power of his Primordial Life Tree Spirit, wrapping himself in its Veiled Aura. This unique ability masked not only his presence but also any spatial fluctuations caused by his teleportation.
Fwoosh.
One moment he was an invisible presence outside the Emperor's study; the next, he materialized silently, instantaneously, within Zhu Zhuqing's appointed room back at the Spirit Hall branch palace.
The transition was seamless, silent, utterly undetectable.
Back in the Emperor's chamber, Dai Xing and Tang Yuehua continued their discussion, completely oblivious to the fact that their sensitive conversation had been fully compromised, and the eavesdropper had vanished into thin air.
Reappearing in Zhu Zhuqing's room, Song Qing blinked, momentarily taken aback by the scene that greeted him. It wasn't quite what he'd expected.
Zhu Zhuqing was seated gracefully on the edge of the plush bed, her usual cool demeanor firmly in place, though a serene contentment softened her features slightly as she saw him.
Standing beside her, however, was her elder sister, Zhu Zhuyun.
And Zhu Zhuyun was dressed… unexpectedly.
She wore a maid uniform.
Not just any maid uniform, but one that seemed specifically chosen for its aesthetic impact. The black fabric was impeccably tailored, clinging faithfully to every mature curve of her figure. It was form-fitting in a way that was both elegant and undeniably provocative.
The skirt was daringly short, stopping high on her thighs, revealing the full length of her slender, well-toned legs – legs honed by years of agility-focused spirit master training.
A delicate, frilly white lace apron was tied neatly around her waist, somehow managing to make the entire ensemble seem even more suggestive, contrasting sharply with the dark dress and her currently subdued posture.
Song Qing raised a single, inquisitive eyebrow. A spark of amusement danced in his eyes as he took in the sight.
He glanced from the surprisingly attired Zhu Zhuyun to his beloved Zhu Zhuqing.
"Zhuqing," he began, his tone light, gesturing vaguely towards the elder sister, "is all this… strictly necessary?"
Zhu Zhuqing didn't even glance at her sister. She nodded firmly, her gaze locked with Song Qing's, her expression utterly resolute.
"Yes, Qing. Absolutely necessary."
Her voice was crisp and clear.
"This dress," she continued, a subtle, almost imperceptible narrowing of her eyes directed towards her sister, "will serve as a constant, visible reminder. To Elder Sister. Of her new position. Her new reality."
A small, knowing smirk touched Zhu Zhuqing's lips as she finally turned her head slightly towards Zhuyun.
"It will effectively prevent her from entertaining any… unrealistic thoughts. Won't it, Elder Sister?"
Zhu Zhuyun's face flushed a brilliant crimson. Song Qing's sudden appearance, catching her in this embarrassing attire, combined with his curious, appraising gaze and her younger sister's pointed words, was mortifying.
She could only manage a slow, jerky nod, her eyes fixed firmly on the carpet fibers near Song Qing's boots. She couldn't meet his gaze, nor her sister's triumphant one.
Unbeknownst to the deeply embarrassed Zhuyun, even that small movement – the subtle dip and raise of her head – caused the fabric of the maid uniform to shift and ripple. The movement subtly highlighted the swell of her breasts beneath the bodice, the curve of her buttocks under the short skirt, and even offered a fleeting, tantalizing glimpse of the pale skin of her midriff where the apron tied.
The overall effect was undeniably… captivating. Arresting, even.
Song Qing couldn't suppress a soft, low chuckle.
'Zhuqing… she certainly has her own unique methods for asserting dominance,' he thought, shaking his head inwardly with amusement. 'Quite effective, it seems.'
He decided not to press the matter further. The sisters' dynamic was their own affair, as long as Zhuqing was happy and Zhuyun remained compliant.
Besides, he had more pressing geopolitical matters swirling in his mind.
With another soft chuckle, Song Qing shook his head slightly, dismissing the sisters' silent drama for the moment. He moved towards the bed and comfortably took a seat right next to Zhu Zhuqing, making himself entirely at home.
Without missing a beat, Zhu Zhuqing turned her imperious gaze back to her elder sister.
"Elder Sister." Her tone was crisp, leaving absolutely no room for argument or hesitation. "Serve Qing some tea. And bring those pastries that were prepared earlier."
Zhu Zhuyun visibly stiffened, her face still burning with a potent mixture of humiliation and simmering resentment. But years of ingrained hierarchy, compounded by her recent defeat and subjugation, left her no choice. Wordlessly, tightly gripping her composure, she obeyed.
She moved towards the small serving table in the corner of the room. As she picked up the elegant porcelain teapot and poured the steaming, fragrant tea into a delicate cup, her movements, though intended to be merely efficient and subservient, were unintentionally quite alluring.
The way the tailored maid uniform clung to her every curve as she bent slightly.
The gentle, almost hypnotic sway of her hips as she walked back towards the bed, balancing the tray carefully.
The delicate tilt of her head, exposing the graceful line of her neck, as she focused on pouring the tea without spilling a drop.
It all combined, creating a rather captivating, if slightly awkward, display of enforced servitude and inherent grace.
'She seems to realize how she looks right now,' Song Qing observed inwardly, a flicker of detached amusement in his eyes as he watched Zhu Zhuyun's stiff, yet strangely elegant, performance.
He didn't stare, however. His attention, his primary focus, was already shifting back to the girl beside him. His beloved Zhu Zhuqing.
He reached out, his arm sliding smoothly around her slim waist, pulling her closer against his side in a warm, possessive embrace.
A faint blush crept up Zhu Zhuqing's neck at the sudden intimacy, but she didn't resist. Instead, she leaned into his touch, relaxing against his solid frame, allowing him to hold her as he pleased.
His hand rested possessively on her waist, fingers gently tracing the contours of her side through the fabric of her dress. She let out a soft, almost inaudible sigh, completely at ease, melting into his embrace. The world outside, her sister's presence, the political machinations – it all seemed to fade slightly in the circle of his arms.
They enjoyed the fragrant tea and the delicate pastries Zhuyun served – silently and efficiently – in comfortable quiet for a few minutes. The only sounds were the soft clinking of porcelain and their gentle breathing.
Then, a polite but firm knock echoed at the chamber door.
"Come in," Zhu Zhuqing called out, her voice regaining its cool composure, though she remained nestled in Song Qing's embrace.
The door opened, and one of the Titled Douluo assigned to their security detail stood respectfully in the doorway.
"Holy Son, Lady Zhu," the Douluo bowed his head. "The others have returned as instructed and await your command."
Song Qing nodded slowly, his mind already shifting gears back to strategy. He turned his gaze to his beloved, tightening his arm around her slightly.
"Zhuqing," he said softly, his voice pitched for her ears alone, though Zhuyun likely heard. "I think it's time we headed back. Back to Martial Soul City."
He gave her a meaningful look. "I've come across some… rather interesting information. Information Teacher needs to hear."
Soon, the entire party – Song Qing, Zhu Zhuqing, the subdued Zhu Zhuyun, and their Titled Douluo escort – was assembled and making their swift way back to the heart of the Spirit Hall's power: Martial Soul City.
Upon their arrival at the imposing Pope Palace, Song Qing didn't delay. After ensuring Zhu Zhuqing was comfortably settled in her own quarters (with Zhuyun assigned nearby), he immediately sought out his teacher, Bibi Dong.
He found her in her private chambers, a sanctuary of luxury and imposing power. She sat upon her ornate chair, not quite a throne but close enough, her presence filling the room. Even seated, her aura radiated an almost palpable sense of authority and immense spiritual energy.
"Teacher," Song Qing began, offering a respectful bow, his demeanor shifting seamlessly into that of the devoted student.
Bibi Dong looked up, her beautiful, sharp eyes focusing on him. A hint of warmth entered her gaze, a warmth reserved almost exclusively for him. "Qing'er. You've returned sooner than expected. News?"
"Yes, Teacher," he confirmed, stepping forward. "I have news regarding the Star Luo Empire."
He proceeded to recount the conversation he had overheard between Emperor Dai Xing and Tang Yuehua. He detailed the confirmation of the alliance between the Star Luo Empire and the Clear Sky Clan, emphasizing the Emperor's reliance on their support against the Spirit Hall.
He carefully, strategically, omitted the specific details about Tang San's personal involvement and the resource request for the time being. That was a card he would play later, when the time was right. For now, the core alliance was the critical piece of intelligence.
Bibi Dong's reaction was instantaneous. And explosive.
The moment the words "Clear Sky Clan" and "alliance" left his lips in the same sentence, the air in the room crackled. Her beautiful eyes flashed with a terrifying, almost blinding crimson light.
A suffocating aura of pure, unadulterated killing intent erupted from her, pressing down on Song Qing like a physical weight. Even he, familiar with her power, felt the primal urge to step back.
"THAT WRETCHED CLEAR SKY CLAN!" Her voice, usually controlled and melodic, was now laced with venom and fury, echoing slightly in the large chamber.
"THEY DARE?!" she seethed, rising slowly from her chair, her knuckles white where she gripped the armrests. "They dare ally themselves openly with the Star Luo Empire against us?!"
"This… this is an act of utter defiance! An insult that cannot, will not, be ignored!"
Her killing intent intensified, swirling around her like a storm. "We will CRUSH them! Both of them! We will flatten the Star Luo Empire into dust, and we will ERADICATE that annoyingly persistent Clear Sky Clan once and for all! Tear them out root and stem!"
Her hatred for the Clear Sky Clan burned with a white-hot intensity. The attack by Tang Hao five years prior, an event that had deeply wounded her, had festered into an absolute, unwavering obsession for their destruction.
"Teacher! Please, wait!" Song Qing interjected quickly, his voice calm but firm, cutting through her rage. He swiftly closed the distance between them and placed a gentle, grounding hand on her arm. Her skin was radiating heat beneath the fine fabric of her robes.
"I understand your anger, Teacher. Believe me, I share the desire to see them obliterated." His touch seemed to have a slight calming effect, though the crimson light in her eyes still pulsed dangerously.
"But," he continued smoothly, persuasively, "we need to be strategic. Think tactically."
He met her furious gaze without flinching. "If we launch an all-out attack on the Star Luo Empire now, driven purely by this provocation, the Clear Sky Clan might hesitate. They might not fully commit their forces immediately."
"Their cooperation seems… fresh. Tentative, perhaps. If they see Star Luo facing complete annihilation right away, key figures – Tang Hao, the other elders – might choose self-preservation. They could slip away, retreat back into seclusion, escaping our grasp yet again."
He squeezed her arm gently. "We want total annihilation, Teacher. No loose ends. No survivors who could become future threats."
He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a more conspiratorial tone. "No, Teacher. What we must do… is allow this alliance to deepen. Let it solidify further. Encourage it, even, subtly."
"Let the Star Luo Empire become more reliant on the Clear Sky Clan. Let that clan invest more resources, more personnel, perhaps even move some key figures closer to the front lines in perceived support."
"Only then," his eyes gleamed with cold calculation, "when they are truly intertwined, can we strike with overwhelming force. Deal with both factions simultaneously. Eliminate any hidden threats and ensure a complete and final victory."
Bibi Dong stared at him, the crimson light in her eyes slowly receding, though the fury still simmered beneath the surface. Her chest rose and fell rapidly as she fought for control. Slowly, reluctantly, her rational mind, the mind of a brilliant strategist, acknowledged the cold, ruthless wisdom in his words.
She hated delaying her revenge, hated letting the Clear Sky Clan exist a moment longer than necessary, but his logic was sound. A premature strike risked an incomplete victory.
"Very well," she conceded finally, her voice still tight with suppressed rage. She pulled her arm free from his grasp, turning away slightly. "I will restrain myself… for now."
She turned back, her expression shifting. The fury was banked, replaced by something softer, more intense, as her gaze fixed on him.
"But in return, Qing'er," she said, her voice dropping to a low, intimate murmur, the atmosphere in the room changing completely.
Her gaze softened, becoming possessive, almost hungry. "You know… you know I will need you to do something for me."
Song Qing met her intense gaze and offered a small, knowing smile. He understood perfectly.
'Ah,' he thought, a familiar mix of resignation and a strange, burgeoning anticipation stirring within him. 'Here we go again.'
He had grown entirely accustomed to this particular… request… from his dear, powerful teacher over the past year. It had become an unspoken ritual, a frequent occurrence. It often followed his return from successful missions, or after delivering significant intelligence like today. An unspoken understanding. A silent transaction.
Over the last twelve months, spending the night in Bibi Dong's opulent private chambers, often sleeping in her vast, silken bed, had become… routine. Normal, in their uniquely abnormal dynamic.
It was a peculiar, dangerous intimacy that had woven itself into the fabric of their teacher-student relationship.
And, as had become their established norm, he would frequently awaken in the pale light of dawn to find himself in… rather compromising positions.
His hand might be resting casually, possessively, on the soft swell of her breast.
His arm draped instinctively across her slender waist, pulling her close even in sleep.
Sometimes their legs would be tangled together beneath the luxurious covers.
He had noticed, with a growing sense of fascination and understanding, that Bibi Dong, even if she was already awake when these 'accidental' contacts occurred – and he suspected she often was – never seemed to mind. Never.
There were no reprimands. No sharp words or embarrassed withdrawals. No chiding him for his wandering hands or unconscious closeness.
Instead, she would simply offer a small, almost imperceptible smile, a fleeting softness in her eyes, as she perhaps adjusted the strap of her nightdress or smoothed her robes, seemingly utterly unfazed by the physical intimacy.
Yet, this boundary-blurring closeness was strictly confined to the nocturnal hours, within the sanctum of her bedchamber. The moment dawn broke, the moment they stepped outside that room, their relationship instantly reverted. She was the Pope, the revered Teacher; he was the Holy Son, the devoted, respectful student. The daytime facade was impeccable.
He had also come to a crucial realization over the months. Even if he consciously touched her seductive, powerful body while they lay in the darkness, knowing full well she was awake and aware… she wouldn't stop him. She wouldn't push him away.
She simply… allowed it. A silent acknowledgment. A tacit acceptance of their unusual, unspoken bond.
Over this past year, navigating this strange territory, Song Qing had slowly, gradually, begun to grasp the true depth of his position in Bibi Dong's fiercely guarded heart. It transcended mere affection, respect, or appreciation for his talents.
It was deeper. More complex.
There was a profound, almost desperately possessive attachment emanating from her. A palpable need for his presence, his proximity… his touch. It was a connection that defied easy definition, defying the conventional labels of teacher, student, or even potential lovers.
And Song Qing, in his own complex way, had come to accept this unique dynamic. More than accept, perhaps. He had come to anticipate it, to understand its necessity in maintaining his unparalleled position beside the most powerful woman on the continent. He had, perhaps, even come to appreciate this strange, potent intimacy with his beautiful, terrifying teacher.