Chapter 607

Chapter 229 Rejection Part 2

“An, Ji, Er…”

Amidst the night wind, I softly called out this name that was already starting to feel hateful, perhaps inaudibly to anyone else. Then, I took a step forward and suddenly activated Moonwalk.

Boom!

A dull sound like a drumroll exploded across the prairie.

As countless grass fragments and wet soil particles flew up several meters high amidst the rolling smoke, and as the girl’s figure abruptly vanished from the black mist only to reappear with a fierce wind in front of His Holiness the Pope, no one could react in time.

Margaret, the beak doctor, the older archbishop further away, the woman holding a sword, those who hid their faces under hoods, they had not yet recovered from the dragon’s roar they had just heard. Most still had their hands over their ears, and everyone was still in chaos and shock. No one expected the girl to act so suddenly.

She broke free from the shackles of the divine relic, rushing over in an instant—this was something that shouldn’t have been possible for those present. After all, this was the power of the Mother Goddess; even a true dragon would kneel in submission before such strength, leaving little room for resistance. How much more so for a girl with a human body, exhausted and drained?

She could barely stand on her own.

Seeing this, most people relaxed their guard.

After all, tonight’s operation was personally planned by His Holiness the Pope, with the participation of the Holy Maiden, Doctor Chris, Archbishop Ansheel, and the legendary Sword Ghost Anathesia. With these people involved, there was nothing to worry about.

Originally, according to the plan, if the first one to come out of the Dragon Homeland was the “demon” or the female heretic rather than Miss Silvera, then they would need to mobilize so many people. They were prepared for the worst-case scenario. But now, things seemed to be developing along the most favorable path—the worst case didn’t happen. Miss Silvera came out alone.

The situation was clear.

They had won the bet.

Miss Silvera likely already consumed the sealed divine body. From her current state, it was evident that they had won this round.

His Holiness the Pope had won.

So, there was nothing much to worry about now. All they needed to do was wait for Miss Silvera to fall asleep, take her away, and follow the previous procedure to stabilize the divine power within her—what she thought, what she saw, and what she knew in the Dragon Homeland didn’t matter. After waking up, she would forget everything.

Most people believed they had succeeded.

His Holiness the Pope performed the “Reversed Apocalyptic Image,” and the Holy Maiden sacrificed the “Mother Goddess’ Mud Coffin.” Under the dual pressure of divine relics, the weakened girl, who seemed ready to collapse at any moment, couldn’t possibly resist.

She was almost asleep.

Almost everyone, including Doctor Chris, Archbishop Angel, and Holy Maiden Margaret, thought so. Many were already discussing what would happen next. But then, unexpectedly, something happened.

A roaring dragon’s cry burst forth, accompanied by incomparable divine power that instantly broke through the shackles of the divine relic. A terrifying aura and surging pressure swept over them. Before they could even react, the girl’s figure reappeared before them.

Her eyes glowed a strange blood-red in the darkness.

Clang—

The blade cut through the grass, tearing up large clumps of branches and leaves. The giant scythe, radiating with blood-red light and as dark as the arrival of death, was suddenly placed around His Holiness’s neck in an instant. White branches floated above the girl’s head, buzzing.

Trembling, divine power spread out in waves, rippling through the air. It was a force they had never seen before.

One second.

This second felt like it passed in an instant, yet also seemed to last forever. The young girl held a weapon of destruction across the Pope’s neck, her face still pale and weary, but her eyes revealed a fierce and sorrowful emotion. Meanwhile, the Pope remained standing in place— he could have dodged, but showed no intention to do so. He stared back at her, slowly raising his hands. Finally, someone reacted after a second had passed.

Clang!

Anasilexis drew her sword first, the blade glinting under the moonlight. Her slender figure held the sword, stepping forward. Nearby, the Doctor with the beak-like mask suddenly retreated several steps, countless water droplets floating around, rapidly condensing into a ball in his right palm.

“Prepare the choir for battle!”

“Quickly! Seal her with sin!”

“Emily, take action—”

The figure in the black cloak shouted frantically. On the other side, Archbishop Ansheel murmured softly, a faint golden light emanating from his body. To his left front, Margaret dropped the torch, coughing violently as she gripped the bone pendant around her neck again. She looked at the girl, terrified, “Sylviega! Don’t!”

“Take action! What are you waiting for, Emily—”

“Shut up! Can’t you see the Pope is in her hands!”

“Ghost Sword, come back—”

Under the night sky, the atmosphere turned tense instantly. Rays of golden light rose from the flames, the cries of people mixed with the hum of divine miracles, spreading across the grassland. In the next moment, a roar-like command silenced all the commotion.

“None of you! Move—!”

In front of the girl, the young Pope threw down his staff, raising his hands. His handsome face twisted from the strain of shouting loudly, “Stand still! No one is to touch her without my order!!!”

Behind him, amidst the chaos and agitation, the Pope’s angry command brought everything back to calm. The woman holding the sword stopped, the Doctor with the beak-like mask released the water ball, and Margaret moved her hand away from the bone pendant. With Angel, they raised their hands together, “Sylviega, don’t act rashly. Listen to me…”

“Be quiet.”

The girl’s voice was cold, tinged with a slight tremor.

What else is there to say at this point?

“Liar…”

I looked at Angel’s face, staring into his deep emerald eyes. They were as usual, showing a bit of laziness, defiance, fearlessness, and that most reassuring, boyish, honest, and warm gaze.

But now, that gaze in my eyes contained much more that I couldn’t understand, a complexity that was far deeper.

“Angel, you’re a liar…”

I could hardly control the urge to cry, my hand gripping the scythe shaking uncontrollably, “All of you are liars…”

“So, Little Black Charcoal, do you want to kill me?”

Through blurry vision, the man’s face gradually became calm. His voice no longer carried any emotion, “If you want to attack, then do it. I won’t dodge.”

“Shut up!”

“If I dodge, it means I’m guilty. But if I don’t dodge and let you kill me, doesn’t that prove many things aren’t what you think they are? Would you believe me then, and start regretting your actions?”

The hot blade touched Angel’s neck, burning a trail of blood. Angel must have been in pain, but he remained extremely calm, so cold and almost inhuman, “Come on, do it.”

He suddenly reached out, grabbing the scythe blade with his hand, pulling it forcefully towards his neck, “Sizzling” sounds came from his palm, white smoke rising, and I smelled the scent of burnt flesh.