Douluo Continent: Tonight, a Fairy Tale Descends

The angel statue stood silently in a golden halo, its six wings outstretched, its face both compassionate and majestic, as if waiting for something, a wait that had lasted for thousands of years.

Now, it has finally waited for this moment.

……

By the time Hu Liena returned to her residence, it was completely dark.

After leaving the Papal Palace, she went to the Spirit Hall's library and flipped through several ancient books about cultivation. By the time she came to her senses, it was already pitch black outside.

As she walked through the corridor, she encountered several patrolling paladins. Upon seeing her, they bowed respectfully, and she nodded slightly in response without stopping.

When she pushed open the courtyard gate, the first thing she saw was the figure leaning against the pillar.

Yan was dressed in a dark red outfit, arms crossed, back against a lacquered red pillar, one leg slightly bent and resting on the base of the pillar.

He had clearly been waiting for a while, but there was no sign of impatience on his face. Only when he saw her did his eyes, which always burned with fighting spirit, light up for a moment. It was like a campfire that had been suppressed by the wind for a long time, suddenly having someone add fuel to it.

Hu Liena sighed inwardly.

Since she returned to Wuhun City, Yan has come almost every day.

She asked him, "Don't you need to cultivate?"

Yan said he had finished his cultivation.

She then asked, "Don't you have to go to the front lines?"

Yan said it wasn't his turn to be rotated yet.

She asked again, "Don't you have anything else to do?"

Yan fell silent.

Even if they don't speak, they still come the next day as usual.

"Why are you here again?" Hu Liena walked to the corridor and stopped. Her tone was neither cold nor warm, but rather somewhat helpless.

Yan straightened up from the pillar, his eyes looking at her, his tone casual as if he were just saying it offhand: "I was bored, so I came to find you."

He spoke with such confidence, as if "boredom" and "coming to see Hu Liena" were inherently equivalent, requiring no transition or embellishment. He simply poured out his thoughts directly, without any beating around the bush.

Hu Liena glanced at him, pushed open the courtyard gate, and went inside. Yan followed behind her, navigating the courtyard with practiced ease, and sat down at the stone table. The tea set she hadn't had time to put away before leaving that morning was still on the table; the tea had long since gone cold.

Yan reached out and touched the inside of the pot, frowned, and a tiny flame rose in his palm, slowly warming the bottom of the pot.

He controlled the fire to a very small size, just enough to heat the tea without cracking the pot. As a powerful offensive Soul King, he did a job that even a support-type Soul Master might not be able to do so meticulously.

Hu Liena sat down opposite him, looking at the ball of flame he carefully held in his palm, and suddenly felt a little helpless.

She wasn't unaware of Yan's feelings. From the Spirit Hall Academy to now, from when she was a little girl with two braids to the Holy Maiden of the Spirit Empire, Yan's gaze towards her had never changed.

She used to think she didn't need to respond to anything, since everyone was cultivating, getting stronger, and had more important things to do.

But ever since she returned from Tiandou City, she noticed something new in Yan's eyes.

It wasn't just simple liking; it was fear. It was like someone holding a string, the other end of which was tied to a kite soaring higher and higher. He was afraid the string would break.

“Yan,” she said.

Yan raised his head, the flame in his palm still steadily supporting the teapot. His eyes shone almost too brightly in the firelight, reflecting her image.

"Don't come to see me every day anymore."

Huliena's voice was calm, just as she usually did when reporting the progress of her mission to Bibidon in the Papal Palace.

There was no blame, no impatience, and not much emotion in her tone. She was simply stating a fact.

"Focusing on cultivation is the right thing to do."

The flame in Yan's palm flickered. He didn't speak immediately, but lowered his head to remove the teapot from the flame and filled the teacup in front of Hu Liena. The dark brown tea swirled twice in the cup before settling, and wisps of steam rose, blurring his expression.

"I didn't neglect my cultivation." Yan finally spoke, his voice muffled, as if he were arguing or sulking.

“Then you don’t need to come every day.” Hu Liena picked up her teacup and took a sip; the temperature was just right.

Yan fell silent. The lantern beside the stone table swayed gently in the night breeze, casting flickering light and shadows on his face.

After a long while, he spoke again, his voice even more muffled than before: "I just wanted to come and see you."

Hu Liena put down her teacup. The bottom of the cup struck the stone table with a very soft sound, yet it was remarkably clear in the quiet courtyard.

She looked at Yan, and Yan looked at her. They stared at each other for a few seconds, then Hu Liena sighed.

"The Martial Soul Empire is in dire need of talent right now." Her voice was no longer as calm as before; it carried a hint of earnestness.

"Teachers need helpers, and the front lines need combat power. You, a young genius at the Soul King level, are wasting your time on trivial matters. Is that behaving properly?"

These words are an indirect way of revealing my intentions; I know what you mean, but you shouldn't use them here.

Yan opened his mouth, as if to say something, but Hu Liena stopped him by raising her hand.

“I know what you’re trying to say. But what you should be doing right now isn’t running around here every day, but cultivating diligently and making the most of your abilities. The stronger you are, the stronger the Martial Soul Empire will be. That’s what you should be doing.”

This statement was reasonable and sensible; it neither hurt his self-esteem nor left him hanging in ambiguity.

She even gave him a clear direction: if you really care about me, then make yourself stronger. Not to be worthy of standing by her side, but for your own sake.

After Hu Liena finished speaking, she fell silent. Yan sat on the stone bench, head down, lost in thought.

The warm flame in his palm had long since died out, and his fingers curled unconsciously, as if he wanted to grasp something but didn't know what to grasp.

"I see."

He suddenly stood up, his movement so swift that the stone bench scraped against the blue brick floor with a harsh screech. He walked with his back to Hu Liena, stopping only in the center of the courtyard. His back was ramrod straight, the outline of his shoulder blades jutting out sharp lines beneath his dark red, fitted clothing.

Then he said something, his voice so soft it was almost audible in the wind.

Hu Liena didn't hear clearly. But she vaguely recognized a few words: "If you don't come tomorrow, come the day after tomorrow."

She opened her mouth, as if to say, "Fine, whatever." But she swallowed the words back.

Forget it. Let him be.

Some people are like that; if you don't let them get close, they'll just stand at a distance.

If you tell him to leave, he'll retreat to the doorway. He'll just stay there as long as you don't completely close the door.

Yan left. The courtyard fell silent again. Hu Liena sat alone at the stone table and drank the tea in her cup in one gulp.

……

Day two.

As dawn broke, Qian Renxue pushed open the heavy doors of the offering hall.

Morning light streamed in from behind her, casting a long shadow on the smooth, mirror-like white marble floor. Today, she wasn't wearing her usual plain white cultivation robe; her long hair was casually tied back with a silver ribbon, reaching down to her waist.

Inside the hall, Qian Daoliu was already waiting before the angel statue. He was still wearing that dark blue robe, standing with his hands behind his back, and did not turn around when he heard footsteps.

"coming."

"Hmm." Qian Renxue walked a few steps behind him and stopped, raising her head to look at the six-winged angel statue she had seen since she was a child.

Morning light streamed through the stained-glass windows of the dome, bathing the angel's six wings in a flowing golden glow.

Those eyes remained both compassionate and dignified, as if asking her, "Are you ready?"

Qian Renxue took a deep breath; the answer was one she had prepared long ago.

“Grandpa,” her voice was soft, but each word was clear, “let’s begin.”

Qian Daoliu turned around and looked at his only granddaughter. He looked at the flame burning in her clear, cold eyes, at her straight back, and at the few strands of hair on her forehead that were ruffled by the morning breeze.

He suddenly remembered that many years ago, Qian Renxue was a little girl with two pigtails. At that time, she had just awakened her six-winged angel martial soul and excitedly ran around the offering hall three times, pulling him and shouting, "Grandpa, Grandpa, look, I have six wings!"

That little girl has grown up now.

She went to the Heaven Dou Empire, living in anonymity for over a decade, treading on thin ice in the enemy's palace. When she returned, she was the rightful emperor of the Heaven Dou Empire, only to hand that empire over to the Spirit Hall.

She accomplished what none of her ancestors had ever done, and now she is going to do something else that none of her ancestors had ever done.

Qian Daoliu suppressed his surging thoughts, pressing those untimely memories back into his heart. Now was not the time for sentimentality; he had waited too long and didn't want to wait any longer.

"Okay," he said, his voice a little hoarse.

Qian Daoliu turned around to face the towering angel statue. His eyes, weathered by time, shone with an astonishing light. He raised his right hand, his index and middle fingers joined together, and gently tapped the air.

A golden ray of light shot out from between the eyebrows of the six-winged angel statue and precisely entered Qian Renxue's forehead.

boom!

Qian Renxue felt as if a golden ocean had exploded in her mind. Countless pieces of information flooded in like a burst dam: the trials of the angel gods, the inheritance of divine positions, and the stairway to the realm of gods.

Her body was enveloped in a layer of dazzling golden light, and the complete form of the Six-Winged Angel Martial Soul involuntarily unfolded behind her. Six golden wings spread out, each feather flowing with a holy halo, and countless light spots fell from the wings like golden snow.

The golden light began to change, spreading like a tide from her forehead to her entire body.

The light was not dazzling, but it carried a kind of majesty that made people dare not look directly at it, as if even the statues of angels bowed their heads slightly at this moment.

Chapter 507 Recruiting You

Qian Daoliu stared intently at Qian Renxue's forehead, watching the golden pattern that was slowly gathering.

how many years.

From him to Qian Xunji, from his grandfather to his grandfather's grandfather, every generation of the Qian family has been waiting for this moment.

He was waiting, waiting for a golden pattern to appear on Qian Renxue's forehead.

It's not red, it's not black, it's gold.

It must be gold; that is the mark of the Nine Trials of the Angels, a peak that no one in thousands of families has ever reached in ten thousand years, a recognition that only the most outstanding geniuses can obtain.

Qian Daoliu has waited too long.

He waited until his hair turned white, until his son died, and until his granddaughter grew from a little girl with pigtails into the woman she is today.

Now, the opportunity has arrived.

The outline of the golden pattern gradually took shape; it was a vertical golden sword, with the tip pointing upwards and the hilt downwards, its entire body shimmering with a sacred aura.

It wasn't big, only about the size of a thumbnail, but the moment it appeared, the air in the entire hall seemed to freeze.

The angel statue emitted a deep hum, and every feather on its six wings trembled slightly, as if drawing a conclusion to a wait that spanned thousands of years.

Qian Daoliu stared intently at the small golden sword that was gradually taking shape on Qian Renxue's forehead, his gaze never wavering for a moment.