บท 17: Chapter 17: Clash of Titans... or Not
It wasn't that Su Cheng was intentionally trying to provoke Bibi Dong. No, no, no. This whole situation had zero room for negotiation. The mission was definitely a bust, and Bibi Dong was absolutely not going to agree. So, naturally, there was conflict.
Over on Qian Renxue's side, decisions were already made. And as the instigator of this whole mess, there was no way he was backing down.
As for playing both sides and hedging bets like some fence-sitting opportunist, well, he hadn't even entertained the thought. Only a real fool would think others were fools.
Sure, maybe the folks at the Martial Soul Hall had their quirks and couldn't judge people well, but their IQs were still intact.
Just when he was finally about to max out Qian Renxue's favorability, with a bonus of Qian Daoliu thrown in, he'd have to be brain-dead to go groveling at Bibi Dong's stinky feet.
And who knows, that level 99 Grand Worshipper might be watching right now.
Plus, with her personality, groveling might just backfire.
But here he was, cool as a cucumber, while Bibi Dong on the other side was clearly fuming.
Her grip on the scepter tightened, knuckles almost turning white.
"Very well, let's give it a shot then," Bibi Dong snorted, a faint purple light flickering in her eyes, emanating the pressure of a top-tier powerhouse, relentless and unyielding.
At this moment, the air in the hall seemed to solidify around Su Cheng, as if controlled by the weapon in Bibi Dong's hand, encasing him in its oppressive aura.
Under the crushing force, his face first paled, then flushed with a tinge of red.
But the terrifying thing was, apart from him, the vast and spacious hall remained unscathed, not even a ripple in the tea cups.
It was a perfect display of supreme power control.
Before he could even adjust to this pressure, it receded like a tide.
In the ebb and flow of it all, Su Cheng felt a momentary lack of oxygen to his brain.
When he came to, the surroundings had completely transformed.
There was no Pope's Hall, no Bibi Dong in sight.
Just him, standing alone on a deserted mountain path.
And that's how the cookie crumbled, or rather, how Su Cheng found himself in a bit of a pickle.
Su Cheng suddenly realized he had fallen into Bibi Dong's illusion, and he couldn't help but chuckle to himself.
"Bring it on then!"
...
In the Grand Worship Hall, Qian Dao Liu stood shoulder to shoulder with Golden Crocodile Douluo.
But this time, there was a difference. Standing beside Qian Dao Liu was a stunning blonde girl, none other than Qian Renxue.
In front of the three of them, a screen unfolded, revealing the scene from the Pope's Hall.
Su Cheng had underestimated this sky-defying Angel Douluo. Not only could he observe from the shadows, but he could also do live broadcasts.
Of course, that was under the condition that Bibi Dong didn't actively block it.
Clearly, there was some kind of tacit understanding among them.
"Grandpa, how's my teacher doing now?"
"You'll see for yourself."
As Qian Dao Liu's words fell, another screen appeared, displaying Su Cheng's current predicament.
...
After the scenery changed before his eyes, Su Cheng suddenly felt like his body had become several times heavier, his soul power firmly suppressed, barely any different from an ordinary person.
No, under Bibi Dong's pressure, he was even worse off than an ordinary person.
The power of this descendant of the Rakshasa God was truly evident.
But Su Cheng didn't let it bother him.
After all, he had been an ordinary person for over twenty years in his previous life, and he had been a loser for almost twenty years in this life. He was too accustomed to this feeling.
Looking at the mountain path ahead, Su Cheng tentatively moved his body slightly.
With each step he took, the illusion suddenly changed.
The once relatively normal mountain path instantly transformed into an extremely narrow, winding trail, with sheer cliffs on either side, depths unseen.
It was easy to imagine that if he were to accidentally fall, even if he didn't die, he'd probably be shaking on the ground like a scaredy-cat after leaving this illusion.
Bibi Dong indeed had no intention of killing him, but she was clearly prepared to humiliate and suppress him thoroughly.
Creating this illusion was just a little trick she picked up from the Rakshasa God's Trial. For strong folks, it might not count for much, but for Su Cheng, with his lacking cultivation and weak mental strength, this illusion was as real as it gets.
If an ordinary person stood here, even knowing it was an illusion, they'd still be terrified. A slight mental disturbance could lead to instability, and one careless step would result in a fall.
However, Su Cheng stood there, looking around as if he couldn't care less about his current predicament.
In the illusion, a strong wind suddenly blew, whipping at Su Cheng's clothes.
Seeing this, Bibi Dong's expression darkened slightly.
"Grandpa, aren't you going to intervene?" Qian Renxue, who was observing from the Grand Worship Hall, showed a hint of nervousness.
Even she, as a mere spectator, felt weak-kneed at the sight, let alone Su Cheng, the one experiencing it.
But Qian Dao Liu refused to act.
"If I were to intervene now, it would break the agreement between me and your mother, and it's not worth it. Besides, don't underestimate your teacher. Just watch," he said.
Before he could finish his sentence, he suddenly stopped, his tone filled with suspicion. "What is this kid doing?!"
In the illusion, on the cliff's edge, the mountain wind blew, lifting Su Cheng's clothes and tossing his black hair in the breeze.
"It's quite realistic," Su Cheng remarked softly.
With calm eyes, he looked at the narrow path on the cliff and took a step forward.
Bibi Dong, seeing Su Cheng not only unafraid but also boldly advancing, frowned. "Let's see how long you can hold on!"
So, the path ahead gradually narrowed, the mountain wind grew stronger, almost deafening in its roar.
Sweat dripped down his face, a testament to the pressure of a titled Douluo.
But Su Cheng just chuckled, unfazed, and kept moving forward.
Eventually, it felt like he was walking on a narrow wall thousands of feet high, the roar of the wind drowning out all other sounds. The abyss below became clearer with each step.
The pressure kept mounting, the path narrowing, and the wind howling louder and fiercer...
But he just walked faster!
Finally—
"Haha... Hahaha... Trying to scare me won't work, bring out the real deal, Your Holiness," Su Cheng grinned, looking at Bibi Dong who was now just inches away.
He looked extremely disheveled at this point.
Gasping for breath, his face pale, sweat pouring down like rain.
It wasn't fear, it was exhaustion.
Despite the illusionary onslaught, not a shred of his will was shaken.
Years of relentless sword practice, countless hours poring over books, had made his determination as solid as a rock.
But the pressure was real, the gap in cultivation undeniable.
As he moved forward, it felt like trudging through wet cement. If it weren't for his years of perseverance and the use of medicinal baths and silver needles for body tempering, he probably wouldn't have made it this far.
Bibi Dong was no longer as composed as before.
In this invisible confrontation, she had lost. She was forced to voluntarily dispel her own illusion.
Because if she didn't, Su Cheng would've smacked right into her face.
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