Along the way, Chrysanthemum Douluo kept stealing glances at Chen Ming, a trace of puzzlent lingering in his eyes. Yet he said nothing. It wasn't until they arrived inside the Spirit Hall, when the two worship elders temporarily left to make their report, that he finally found a chance to quietly speak up.
"I don't know why, but the aura around you… it feels so… like…"
He hesitated, clearly struggling to put it into words before narrowing his gaze.
"Tell , did you eat sothing?"
His expression turned rather peculiar. Chen Ming gave him a sense of familiarity, almost as if he had consud the Singular Velvet Sky Chrysanthemum himself, yet at the sa ti there was sothing indescribably off about it.
"Senior Chrysanthemum truly has sharp eyes," Chen Ming replied with a faint smile. "This junior did indeed encounter a small stroke of fortune recently and happened to consu the Singular Velvet Sky Chrysanthemum."
Without waiting for a response, he took out a small pouch and slipped it into Chrysanthemum Douluo's hands. The mont it was opened, a golden seed was revealed inside. The conflicted look on Chrysanthemum Douluo's face lted instantly, replaced by a gentle warmth as his entire expression blood like a chrysanthemum bursting into full flower.
"Oh my, why be so polite?" he said aloud, though his hands moved at astonishing speed, swiftly hiding the seed away.
"If there's anything you don't understand, you can co ask anyti. If not for the fact that the Grand Worship has taken a liking to you, I would have truly wanted to accept you as my personal disciple. Should you encounter any difficulties, co find . Old Ghost and I are both warmhearted people—no need to stand on ceremony."
He understood why Chen Ming had chosen to consu the Singular Velvet Sky Chrysanthemum. Such treasures were impossibly rare—anyone who encountered one would eat it on the spot without hesitation.
After all, even he himself, upon finding other immortal herbs—as long as they didn't clash with his attributes—would crush them and swallow them imdiately…
Unless, of course, it was sothing suitable for Old Ghost. In that case, he might consider saving it.
Still, understanding Chen Ming's reasoning didn't an he felt nothing about it. Chrysanthemum Douluo couldn't help but feel a trace of regret. If he had obtained a complete Singular Velvet Sky Chrysanthemum, reaching the level of a Limit Douluo would not have been beyond possibility.
Had Chen Ming been willing to trade, he would have offered everything he possessed—even including personally helping Chen Ming hunt a hundred-thousand-year Spirit Ring and Spirit Bone in the future—in exchange for it. In his mind, such a price more than exceeded the herb's value.
Understanding was one thing; emotions were another. It was impossible for him to remain entirely unmoved.
But as soon as Chen Ming handed over the seed, those lingering thoughts scattered like smoke. Chrysanthemum Douluo silently noted this favor in his heart.
Though it couldn't compare to a complete Singular Velvet Sky Chrysanthemum, possessing the seed alone would still greatly enhance his future potential. Besides, Chen Ming had already consud the herb—the dicinal effects long since absorbed. It wasn't as though he could spit it back out. He might as well treat this as obtaining a seed for himself.
As for how to return the favor, Chrysanthemum Douluo pondered for a mont before retrieving a treasure he deed suitable and placing it into Chen Ming's hands.
It was a silver scale, roughly the size of a fist. Though it had fallen from its original body who knew how long ago, it still contained a considerable amount of energy—and an unmistakable draconic aura.
As the punishnt elder of the Spirit Hall, Chrysanthemum Douluo was no stranger to offerings. Countless people sought to curry favor with him, yet his standards were high—ordinary treasures rarely caught his interest.
This particular item had been discovered by one of his subordinates within the Star Dou Forest and presented to him as tribute. According to rumor, it was a scale shed from the legendary Silver Dragon.
He had once considered how best to use or refine it, but in the end, its sheer rarity made him reluctant to consu it. Instead, he had kept it as part of his collection—until now, when it found the perfect opportunity to be passed on to Chen Ming.
Feeling the faint tremor in the very origin of his Martial Soul, Chen Ming reacted almost instinctively. With a speed no slower than Chrysanthemum Douluo's earlier movents, he swiftly tucked the silver scale into his soul tool, then lifted his head and offered him a calm, knowing smile.
In the span of just a few short exchanges, one old fox and one young fox had already completed a transaction that left both sides thoroughly satisfied.
...
Before long, Fifteen Ton Douluo and Falling Devil Douluo erged from the hall. One of them gave Chrysanthemum Douluo a slight nod and transmitted a ssage through Spirit Power. In response, Chrysanthemum Douluo waved casually at the group before departing in haste.
Under the guidance of the two worship elders, Chen Ming stepped into the Consecration Hall.
If the overall atmosphere of Spirit City could be described as solemn and imposing, and the Pope's Palace as magnificent and noble, then the Consecration Hall embodied sothing else entirely—an air of gravity and sanctity, ancient and tranquil, as though ti itself had slowed within its walls.
The worship elders stood along both sides, their gazes resting curiously upon Chen Ming. At the far end, beneath the towering statue of the Angel God, stood a middle-aged man who appeared to be no more than thirty or forty years old. Dressed in a golden robe, he stood with his eyes closed in silent prayer.
Though his back faced the crowd, a sacred radiance still emanated from him, echoing faintly with the divine presence of the Angel God statue behind him.
Even from just that single silhouette, Chen Ming felt as though he were facing a blazing sun. Pure light and heat seed to spill endlessly from the man's very being, overwhelming and inescapable.
Though the worship elders lined the hall, the world itself seed to narrow, leaving only that man and the towering Angel God statue as the true center of existence.
This… is Qian Daoliu? Chen Ming drew in a quiet breath, a flicker of surprise rising within him. This presence felt nothing like the impression he had ford before.
In truth, Qian Daoliu was rarely like this in his daily life. He normally dressed in plain gray robes, his aura restrained and steady, never deliberately dazzling or oppressive.
But the matter concerning Chen Ming—combined with Bibi Dong's recent decision—had been too severe. It had forced Qian Daoliu to subtly adjust his deanor over the past few days, allowing a more domineering edge to surface.
When he learned of Chen Ming's arrival, he had even gone out of his way to retrieve the golden robe he had not worn in years, deliberately presenting himself in a more formal—and imposing—manner.
Hearing the movent behind him, Qian Daoliu slowly ceased his silent prayer and turned around.
"Hello, child."
His voice was not aged, yet it carried a deep, enduring weight. His gaze settled on Chen Ming, sharp and appraising, unable to conceal a trace of surprise.
"I am Qian Daoliu, Grand Worship of Spirit Hall."
"Greetings, Senior Qian Daoliu. Greetings, seniors," Chen Ming replied respectfully, first bowing to Qian Daoliu before turning to offer proper salutations to each of the worship elders present. His composed deanor earned several subtle nods of approval.
"Child, was it you who wrote this book?"
Qian Daoliu drew a manuscript from his sleeve—the copied version of the Douluo Heart thod—and placed it before Chen Ming.
After a brief glance, Chen Ming first nodded, then shook his head.
"Senior, the Douluo Heart thod was indeed written by . However, the order of the sixth and fifth sections has been reversed in your copy, and a line in the fourth chapter has been altered. This version is incorrect."
"Oh? Then perhaps I made a mistake while copying it," Qian Daoliu replied calmly as he withdrew the manuscript back into his sleeve, giving a faint nod.
Of course, as a Limit Douluo, there was no way he could have made such an error. It had rely been a test. If Chen Ming were truly the author, such obvious discrepancies would be impossible to miss.
Though he did not voice it aloud, a trace of doubt still lingered deep within Qian Daoliu's heart.
Could an entirely new cultivation thod like this truly have been created by a child not yet ten years old?
..
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