After a brief pause, Ning Fengzhi continued, "The Pope herself is unfathomably deep. She is hailed as the most powerful leader Spirit Hall has ever had. In your current situation, absolutely do not go head-to-head with them. Avoidance is not the same as running away. You're still young—even if you want to oppose Spirit Hall, you'll have plenty of time in the future. Why obsess over this single competition?"
Tang San's brow furrowed tightly. After a moment of contemplation, he still shook his head. "No. I must participate in this competition. Uncle Ning, I understand what you're saying. But I believe this should also be an important trial in my life. If I can push through it, then Spirit Hall will find it exceedingly difficult to deal with me in the future. They can't possibly keep the sky covered by one hand forever, can they?"
Looking at the determination in Tang San's eyes, Ning Fengzhi couldn't help but be reminded of what his father had looked like in his youth—their expressions were strikingly similar. Although Ning Fengzhi hadn't been close to Tang Hao back in the day, and their ages weren't far apart, Tang Hao had always given him the feeling of a towering mountain beyond reach. Among their generation, no one could compare to Tang Hao. Now, Tang Hao's son seemed to be replicating that miracle, perhaps even surpassing what his father had achieved. The Clear Sky Clan—was your bloodline truly that extraordinary?
"Fine. Since you've already made your decision, I won't try to persuade you further. I'll do everything in my power to ensure your safety." Ning Fengzhi's words were understated, but as the master of an entire clan, this was practically a solemn promise to Tang San.
Tang San could sense that there was no ulterior motive in Ning Fengzhi's words, nor was it a bid to win him over. It was purely the concern of an elder for a junior.
"Uncle Ning, perhaps I cannot join the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Clan, but as long as I'm alive, the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Clan will always be my friend."
……
Spirit Hall City.
The Great Master, dressed in plain clothes, passed through the Soul Master inspection and entered the city. A man of his age with a mere thirtieth-rank cultivation naturally drew no one's attention.
Without pausing for even a moment—without so much as catching his breath—the Great Master made his way straight to Spirit Hall's supreme governing institution: the Papal Hall.
Before the entrance to the Papal Hall.
"Halt." Two Papal Knights clad in silver armor blocked the Great Master's path, and a hundred Papal Knights in total raised their longswords in unison. "This is a restricted area. Take one more step, and you will be killed without mercy."
Facing over a hundred Papal Knights whose strength was clearly far above his own, the Great Master's expression remained as detached as ever. He raised his hand and presented his token.
The lead Papal Knight strode forward. When he made out the six patterns on the token, an involuntary shudder ran through him. With a thud, he dropped to one knee. "Greetings, Elder."
The hundred Papal Knights performed the same gesture in perfect unison, and in their shadow, the otherwise ordinary-looking Great Master no longer seemed quite so ordinary.
"Take me to see the Pope," the Great Master said in the fewest possible words, making his purpose clear.
Half an hour later, in the Papal Hall's council chamber, the Great Master sat quietly sipping fine tea, waiting in silence.
In the vast council chamber spanning over a thousand square meters, he was the only one present.
The Great Master's gaze remained fixed on the tea in his hands throughout. He didn't spare even a single glance at the resplendent gold and jade surroundings. He simply waited.
A towering three-meter archway opened, and a gentle voice rang out from beyond. "Stand guard outside. Without my orders, no one is to disturb me."
"Yes."
The Great Master's gaze finally lifted from his tea, turning toward the direction of the chamber doors.
The doors opened, and a woman walked in from outside.
Of modest height, she wore a magnificent black robe trimmed with gold embroidery. Atop her head sat a nine-curve purple-gold crown, and in her hand she grasped a scepter roughly two meters long, encrusted with countless gemstones. Her fair skin and near-perfect features made her appear utterly extraordinary.
The invisible aura of nobility and sanctity emanating from her was especially overwhelming, instinctively compelling anyone in her presence to feel an urge to kneel in reverence.
The Great Master remained seated. The woman, having entered through the doors, also came to a halt. Their gazes collided in midair. No sparks flew. Something had entered the Great Master's previously detached eyes—regret, memories, and above all, a wistful melancholy.
A complex series of changes flickered through the woman's gaze in an instant. Though she appeared to be only around thirty years old, she was in fact a year older than the Great Master, long past fifty. Her scepter touched the floor with a soft clink.
"You came." Her voice was gentle and melodious, the kind that naturally gave one the feeling of a warm spring breeze.