Chapter 116#

The Saint of the Fallen Evil God#

Lin Xiaodong certainly wasn’t going to his death.

He was eighty, no, over ninety percent sure that the Evil God would appear when he was “judged” by the Church.

If he didn’t appear, he had already collected five good person cards, and the mission in this world would be completed. As for the punishment mission from the last world… tsk, anyway, a lot of debt doesn’t bother you, he’d worry about it then.

System: So casual?

“Otherwise?” Lin Xiaodong said, “There’s no better way now. I’d like to be gentler and more gradual, but unfortunately, I can’t even find a shadow of the Evil God.”

Speaking of which, he got angry. He was a god, after all, yet he hid in the abyss for several years without even saying hello!

Lin Xiaodong was lonely and cold in his empty room. At his most annoyed, he even thought about whether he should follow the bishops of the Church and recruit two strong young men to warm his bed.

But in the end, considering that while doing so would indeed infuriate the Evil God back to life, those young men would probably lose their lives. Based on the principle of not implicating the innocent, Lin Xiaodong could only regretfully give up.

He packed several large boxes of items in his room. Anyway, he couldn’t take any of them with him, so the ancient books and treasures would be left to Maria and the others. Lin Xiaodong stroked the “Dark Scripture,” which he had disguised with religious skin and had become increasingly Marxist-Leninist over the years, and somewhat reluctantly placed it on top of the box.

With a “click” of the lock, the white-haired youth closed the door.

He left his room calmly, empty-handed.

Walking through the corridor, the youth came before the Evil God’s tall statue, reached out his hand, and gently caressed the god’s cold, hard face. He then took another step forward and pressed his head against the statue’s chest.

Behind him, his dark wings slowly spread and then closed again, encircling the god’s statue within them, like an intimate embrace.

Maria, who had made up her mind to stop the Saint from going to the Church, stood at the church entrance. Seeing this scene, the girl clenched her fists and stopped.

In everyone’s eyes, the Saint always had a gentle, smiling demeanor. He would extend his hand to all those in desperate situations and was the most revered figure in the entire Dark Temple.

As long as he stood there, he was synonymous with hope and invincibility.

But only now did Maria realize that His Highness the Saint was also vulnerable.

Before the god, the Saint was like a newborn child, filled with deep attachment and longing. All of them regarded the Saint as their faith, so they didn’t want him to leave, but it seemed they had never considered Lin Xiaodong’s own feelings.

“Your Highness,” she tiptoed forward and asked softly, “Can you… tell me about your past with Lord Evil God?”

The white-haired youth seemed to awaken from his memories. Seeing Maria standing there, he smiled somewhat awkwardly and quickly retracted his wings.

“Actually, there’s nothing much to say,” he replied. “Sometimes, I don’t even think he’s a god. We get along very naturally, and our views on many things are basically consistent, just like…”

Although he didn’t say it out loud, Maria understood that the word hidden beneath the smile was “lovers.”

She was somewhat shocked, yet she also felt it was a matter of course—besides His Highness the Saint, who else could be worthy of the Lord God?

Of course, the reverse was also true.

“So that’s why you’ve been so persistently trying to find him, isn’t it?” Maria said sadly. She no longer intended to stop Lin Xiaodong, but she couldn’t help but feel it was unfair to him. “But the Evil God has never responded to your call. Why is that?”

The white-haired youth smiled, not minding her offense: “That’s the truth I need to uncover, Maria.”

He walked up to the girl, wiped away the tears on her cheeks, leaned down, and gave her a gentle hug.

“Goodbye, my child.”

A warm kiss landed on the girl’s forehead. Maria finally couldn’t hold back. The dagger, coated with anesthetic, hidden in her sleeve, fell to the ground. She knelt, covering her face, and burst into tears.

“Saint, Your Highness, I’m sorry… I really…”

Lin Xiaodong looked at the dagger, which glowed with an ominous color, and an involuntary chill ran down his spine.

“Perhaps I shouldn’t have taught her so much chemistry,” he said with lingering fear. “I almost got taken down.”

Over the years, he had almost forgotten that this soft-spoken girl in front of him was once a warrior who fought desperately against ferocious wild dogs in an iron cage.

The youth stood there, hesitating for a moment, seemingly wanting to go and comfort her, but was blocked by an arm extended from his right side.

The black-haired man shook his head at him and said in a deep voice, “I’ll handle it, Your Highness.”

“…Don’t be too harsh either,” Lin Xiaodong could only say.

Ike nodded: “Don’t worry, Your Highness.” He walked over, picked up the dagger, half-knelt, and handed it back to the still-crying Maria, whispering, “His Highness doesn’t hold your transgression against you. Say goodbye to him.”

Maria shook her head desperately. Helpless, Ike could only look up at Lin Xiaodong: “Your Highness, I apologize.”

Just as Lin Xiaodong was about to say it was alright, he heard footsteps from the church entrance. He turned his head and saw that almost all the people living in the Dark Temple had gathered there. They looked at the crying Maria and Ike beside her, and then at the white-haired youth with his wings spread, as if understanding something, and knelt down one after another, in rows.

No one spoke, only faint sobs could be heard from the crowd.

“What are you doing?” Lin Xiaodong sighed.

“I won’t die,” he had no choice but to rack his brains to concoct a lie to comfort his followers. “Do you know about a divine bird in the East called the phoenix? It is reborn from fire. I am a demigod. Mortals can only burn my body with fire; they cannot burn my soul. I just want to accompany the god; I’m not committing suicide.”

“Really?” Maria looked at him with tear-filled eyes, asking stubbornly.

“Really,” the white-haired youth said gently.

“So, don’t be sad. I will always be watching over you.”

He spread his wings, and feathers that covered the sky fell like rain. The youth’s toes gradually lifted off the ground. He ascended to the church window, against the light, and took one last look at the crowd below.

“Your Highness the Saint! Take me with you too!”

Maria uncontrollably tried to rush towards him, but Ike held her tightly by the waist. She could only watch helplessly as he disappeared from her sight, then collapsed powerlessly to the ground.

In front of the Light Church.

The new Pope, who had reached a secret agreement with Lin Xiaodong through letters, stood in the square, looking at the white doves circling in the sky, somewhat distracted.

Although he had successfully ascended, the old Pope had not fully relinquished his power to him, which meant that despite having the support of large merchant guilds, the new Pope’s position in the Church was still somewhat awkward.

As if sensing this, two days ago, he received a letter from the former Saint of the Church. After reading the contents of the letter, the Pope could hardly believe his eyes—how could such a good thing exist in the world?

As for the conditions Lin Xiaodong requested, such as abolishing slavery and revoking the Knights of Ike’s wanted warrants, they were all simple. Although the permission for private publication of books made the Pope feel somewhat confused and he spent most of the night wondering what benefit this would bring to Lin Xiaodong himself, most of them were still in line with the core interests of their group.

So, after making up his mind, he immediately wrote a letter back to Lin Xiaodong, agreeing to the conditions he proposed.

And soon, it would be their appointed time.

Just as the Pope was lost in thought, suddenly, the dazzling sunlight above his head was blocked, and a fierce wind howled out of nowhere.

He subconsciously looked up, but what he saw was not the boundless blue sky he imagined, but a pair of gigantic, ink-black wings that covered the sky.

Amidst the exclamations of the divine servants behind him, the Pope had to shield his eyes with his arm to prevent sand from getting in.

When the strong wind gradually stopped, he reopened his eyes and saw the slender, white-haired youth standing before him, his expression calm.

The Saint’s once snow-white skin had been completely stained by dark energy, and golden tattoos glowed dazzlingly in the sunlight. He wore a loose white robe with a light gold belt tied around his waist.

As stated in the letter, there was no intention of attacking any Church members.

He came alone, surrendering himself to the Church’s headquarters.

The Pope met his gaze, then his face turned cold, and he shouted to the knight order behind him, who were on high alert: “Seize this sinner!”

The knights shouted, surrounding the Saint with their spears, but hesitated to attack him.

The white-haired youth chuckled softly, looking at the Pope in front of him, as if to say, “This isn’t my problem.”

The Pope bit his lower lip in annoyance, then raised his hand and cast a powerful Light spell. Lin Xiaodong’s body swayed slightly, finally revealing an opening. When the first daring knight gripped his spear and charged forward, the Saint was quickly pressed to his knees by a dense array of spear shafts.

“Saint Lynn,” the Pope finally let out a long breath. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the old Pope, supported by divine servants, rushing over. He deliberately raised his voice and loudly declared, “You betrayed the Church, betrayed the God of Light, your sins are unforgivable! Announce to all believers throughout the world that I will personally hold a purification ceremony here, activating the Holy Light Fire!”

After speaking, he ignored the astonished gazes of those around him and immediately created a huge cross with magic, nailing the Saint’s arms, along with his fallen wings behind him, to it.

Blood continuously dripped from the wounds. The white-haired Saint on the cross hung his head, but seemed to feel no pain at all, not uttering a single cry from beginning to end.

The nobles who received the news came from the East District of the Royal Capital to the square. They chattered and stood around the cross, watching the Saint, who was nailed to the cross awaiting judgment, with excitement or schadenfreude, their faces showing the satisfaction of having their revenge.

But they didn’t notice that most of the people around them were companions who had participated in watching “cockfighting” competitions together. Almost all of the nobles and leaders of large merchant guilds who supported the new Pope were absent.

Divine servants brought buckets of fresh milk, scooped it out, and continuously splashed it onto the Saint on the cross. Blood mixed with the milky white liquid flowed down the cross, like blood flowers blooming on pure white snow.

“What are they doing?” a young noble asked, puzzled.

“You wouldn’t know, would you?” The Prince, sitting in front, turned back and gave him a disdainful look, but in good spirits today, he condescended to explain, “This is the Church’s oldest ritual. Legend has it that soaking a sinner’s body in milk and then burning it with Holy Light Fire can purify his sins and send his soul into the endless abyss, never to be reborn.”

“I see!” The young noble suddenly understood.

Other nobles also praised this method. During the few years when the Avenging Angel frequently appeared, let alone holding banquets, the nobles of the Royal Capital could barely sleep at night. Now that they knew the culprit, their hatred for Saint Lynn was even more intense—not to mention burning him with fire, they wished he could be cut into a thousand pieces to appease their anger!

“Holy Fire has arrived!”

A young girl, holding a yellow orb of light formed by magic, carefully walked out of the church.

Just as the Pope was about to take it, he heard an old, hoarse voice beside him: “You are still too young. Leave this matter to me. After all, it’s an ancient purification ritual; who knows what risks there are?”

His movements paused. He looked at the old Pope, who was leaning on a staff and being supported by divine servants, walking towards him, and unconsciously narrowed his eyes.

“You have a point,” he suddenly smiled slightly, and indeed handed over the Holy Fire. “After all, I am still young. For such an important ritual, please proceed.”

The old Pope’s expression was slightly stunned, probably not expecting him to agree so readily.

But facing the immense glory of punishing a traitor and leaving his name in the Church’s millennium history, he didn’t have time to think too much. After perfunctorily praising the Pope a few times, he eagerly took the Holy Fire.

“Lynn, oh Lynn, did you ever think of this day?”

He tremblingly came to the foot of the cross, looked at the white-haired Saint above, who had his eyes closed, and shook his head as if regretting.

“Light of the earth, cleanse all defilement…”

The old Pope lit the end of the cross with the Holy Fire, stepped back half a step, shook off the divine servant’s support, and excitedly raised his hands, chanting loudly. His expression was frenzied, his eyes burning, and as he watched the youth gradually being engulfed by the bright flames, the curve of his mouth grew wider and wider.

“…Return, return, return!”

Amidst the cheers from all directions, the white-haired Saint, whose breathing was becoming increasingly rapid under the intense light, looked up at the sky one last time, and murmured hoarsely:

“My God…”

The next second, the Holy Light Fire that illuminated half the sky of the Royal Capital was instantly extinguished by the darkness from the abyss. A powerful arm tightly embraced the Saint’s body, which had been burned by the flames. The enraged Evil God raised his hand and ignited the sky-burning netherworld fire, instantly sweeping across the entire square.

The old Pope and the cheering nobles didn’t even have time to let out a scream before they were completely burned to ashes.

Only the Pope and others who had been warned beforehand and had hidden in the church managed to escape thanks to the Light barrier. However, since this magic barrier was closely related to each Pope’s magical power, the heavily injured new Pope also spat out a mouthful of blood on the spot and collapsed to the ground with a pale face.

But he ignored the exclamations of those around him, struggled to get up, and looked at the apocalyptic scene outside the window, letting out a sigh of relief.

A dragon has a reverse scale; touching it means death. The god… was truly enraged.