Bibi Dong's cold, composed voice seemed to possess a strange power—one that pierced straight through the surface of reason and stabbed directly into the heart.
"Wrong?"
These two simple words were like invisible war hammers, smashing brutally into the minds of the hundreds of thousands of Spirit Masters gathered in the square.
Among the crowd, the expressions of the countless commoner Spirit Masters—those who had remained silent earlier because they had "benefited"—instantly froze.
For a breath.
For a heartbeat.
Then—
An uproar even more violent than before exploded!
"What?! Yu Xiaogang's theory… is wrong?!"
"That's impossible! I attached my spirit ring strictly according to his method, and nothing went wrong!"
"But… this was said by Her Excellency the Supreme Pontiff herself! With her status, would she lie to us about something like this?!"
Countless whispers collided, overlapped, and surged together, forming a deafening wave of noise. Confusion, shock, disbelief, and a faint but growing panic spread rapidly across every face.
On the cross.
Yu Xiaogang, who had just been intoxicated by the crowd's silent "acquiescence," felt as though a bucket of icy water had been dumped over his head.
From scalp to bone marrow, he was frozen stiff.
A terrifying premonition surged uncontrollably in his heart.
He understood instinctively—
What Bibi Dong was about to say next would be the true, final killing blow prepared for him today.
No!
He couldn't let her continue!
"You're slandering me!"
Yu Xiaogang suddenly lifted his head and screamed hoarsely, veins bulging, voice sharp and broken!
His bloodshot eyes locked onto Bibi Dong on the viewing platform, filled with the madness of someone cornered with nowhere left to run.
"You say my theory is wrong?!"
"What evidence do you have?!"
"How dare you, you bastard, completely deny the results of my painstaking research with just a few words?!"
He was like a drowning man clutching at the last straw, his voice cracking as he shouted.
"Yes! Evidence!"
Yu Xiaogang abruptly shifted his gaze to the book in the Cardinal's hand, his breathing ragged.
"It clearly states here that the maximum year limit for the first spirit ring is 423 years, and for the second spirit ring, 764 years!"
"Isn't this the conclusion I reached after endless calculations and sleepless nights of deduction?!"
This question—logical, precise, and wrapped in a veneer of "rigorous scholarship"—caused the chaotic crowd to quiet once more.
Indeed.
From a surface perspective, it made sense.
If Yu Xiaogang truly plagiarized, how could he, with such low cultivation, verify such specific data?
If he hadn't researched it himself, then where did these exact, single-digit limits come from?
For a moment, countless gazes converged on Bibi Dong again.
They wanted to see how this young Supreme Pontiff would answer such a seemingly airtight challenge.
On the viewing platform, even Ning Fengzhi and the others frowned slightly.
It had to be said—
Yu Xiaogang's question was sharp.
However.
Under the scrutiny of hundreds of thousands of eyes—
There wasn't the slightest ripple of surprise or difficulty on Bibi Dong's face.
Instead—
She let out a soft, disdainful laugh.
It wasn't loud.
But it rang clearly in every ear, like a merciless slap cracking hard across Yu Xiaogang's face.
"Evidence?"
Bibi Dong slowly raised her slender hand, her purple-polished nails gleaming faintly as she pointed toward Yu Xiaogang on the cross.
"Your question itself…"
"Is the most irrefutable evidence of your plagiarism."
Boom!
Yu Xiaogang's mind exploded into blankness.
"Because—"
Bibi Dong's voice suddenly turned cold and majestic, like a divine decree echoing across heaven and earth.
"The year limit a Spirit Master can withstand when absorbing a spirit ring—"
"Has never been a fixed number."
"It is only directly proportional to the Spirit Master's own physical strength!"
"The stronger the body, the higher the spirit ring year limit that can be absorbed!"
"And the weaker the body—"
"The lower the limit!"
Her gaze sharpened, like twin scalpels dissecting his theory piece by piece.
"And you—"
"You idiot who doesn't even know how to plagiarize properly!"
Her words were filled with naked contempt.
"You merely copied the highest recorded absorption limits from Spirit Hall's historical archives and shamelessly treated them as universal laws!"
"You have absolutely no idea what level of physical strength those ancient Spirit Masters possessed when they achieved—or even surpassed—those limits!"
Each sentence struck Yu Xiaogang like a bolt of black lightning.
He opened his mouth.
But not a single word came out.
His face drained of all color.
Because everything she said—
Was true.
Back then, he had indeed only discovered those scattered records in incomplete Spirit Hall texts and directly packaged them as his so-called "limit theory."
Bibi Dong looked at his collapsing expression, the curve of her lips growing colder, sharper.
"Do you know—"
Her voice softened, yet carried the chill of a curse whispered from the abyss.
"What happens when a Spirit Master lacks sufficient physical strength…"
"But blindly believes your so-called 'limit theory'…"
"And rashly absorbs a spirit ring beyond what their body can endure?"
She paused.
Every word that followed was like an ice-cold dagger driven straight into Yu Xiaogang's heart.
"There is only one outcome."
"Explode."
"And die."
The instant those words fell—
Shrill screams erupted from the crowd!
"What?!"
"So… so that's the truth?!"
A middle-aged man suddenly stumbled out of the crowd, eyes bloodshot, face twisted in grief and madness.
He pointed tremblingly at Yu Xiaogang on the cross, his voice choked with sobs and rage.
"My daughter!"
"My daughter believed in your damned theory!"
"She said the first spirit ring limit was 423 years—so I hunted a 400-year spirit beast for her!"
"But when she absorbed it—"
"She exploded and died on the spot!"
His cry was like a signal flare.
In the next instant—
Another voice rose.
Then another.
Then dozens.
Then hundreds.
"And my younger brother!"
"He chased the so-called 'perfect spirit ring' and died!"
"Yu Xiaogang! You murderer!"
"Give me back my son's life!"
"Kill him!"
"Kill him!!!"
The plaza completely erupted.
Rage boiled over like magma.
Countless bloodshot eyes locked onto the limp, broken figure on the cross, hatred so intense it seemed tangible.
Suddenly—
No one knew who started it.
A hand reached into a bag and hurled a long-rotten egg.
"Splat!"
The egg flew in a perfect arc and smashed squarely into Yu Xiaogang's forehead.
Yellow, foul-smelling liquid mixed with shattered shell slid down his pale, numb face.
That sound—
That sight—
Was the fuse.
"Pelt him!"
"Use trash to bury this hypocrite!"
The next moment—
"Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh—!"
A torrential downpour of filth erupted from all directions!
Rotten vegetable leaves!
Moldy steamed buns green with decay!
Discarded, reeking shoes!
Broken scraps, spoiled food, rancid refuse—
An unprecedented storm of trash engulfed the cross entirely!
"Splat!"
"Thud!"
"Squish!"
Filth slammed into Yu Xiaogang's face, chest, and limbs without pause.
At first, his body instinctively twisted, trying to dodge.
Then—
He stopped.
He no longer struggled.
He no longer resisted.
Because he finally understood—
There was nowhere left to escape.
He had been utterly, completely—
Despised by all.
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