Chapter 117#
Distant Star Reflection 25#
Security checks came first. Cathedral members’ checks proved perfunctory, yet exterior people faced stringent examination. Yu Feichen’s carried pistol was confiscated—the one Tan Per had personally assembled yesterday.
Others carried no lethal weapons, except Windsor. Duke Windsor appeared respectable, yet proved a dangerous gun-carrier. Surrendering his weapon, he seemed losing security, drifting behind Bai Song. Bai Song followed step-by-step hanging behind the pope, seeming following the pope, actually following Yu Feichen.
Yu Feichen, with this apparent-yet-not-apparent tail, entered the base. Beyond the main gate lay a massive parking area with warships lined up, all launching apparatus gleaming new, operating normally.
Surrounding the parking area stood research rooms, training facilities, and weapons storage—looking quite impressive. Yu Feichen appreciated machinery embodying power.
Steel wielded missions drinking blood, yet its existence remained untainted. It embodied humanity’s unceasing pursuit of power.
Yet when these colossal machines appeared alongside “cathedral” concept, somewhat discordant.
In worlds possessing both rulers and religion, religion sometimes reigned supreme, sometimes ruled by others, power-acquisition depending on respective abilities. Yet here, the connection proved closer.
Emperors, nobles possessed their own planets, controlling all resources—collectively termed lords. They possessed their own armies, listening to masters’ commands. Yet guns, starships came cathedral-researched supply.
The cathedral lacked its own territories. Lacking money, resources, experimental sites required nobleman support. Lords wanting warfare, improving subjects’ living standards needed bearing gifts seeking cathedral blessing. This continued centuries. Such relationships worked well—mutual benefit—yet everyone knew improvement possible. One nation couldn’t have two masters—source of emperor-cathedral conflict. Conflict never erupting came from cathedral’s centuries of religious deception.
As for cathedral internally, rebel-conservative divide—Bishop Kaven exemplified this. His temperament proved rigorous, nature pure, rebelling against the pope for reasons similar to Tan Per’s.
Years ago, when Kaven was younger, he researched machinery replacing worker labor, believing this invention magnificent, opening new eras. He wanted empire-wide adoption, even ambitiously wanting modeling not just human limbs but human brains.
Upon this reaching Pope Paul’s eyes, the pope said merely one sentence.
“Kaven, my beloved student, our truth-pursuing purpose isn’t spawning chaos,” he said. “When these things enter factories, where shall our subjects go? From today, assist Cardinal Simons researching star-extinguishing methods.”
Kaven departed the pope’s temple disheartened. His laboratory lost all resource and funding support. Tan Per, witnessing his devastated departure, within two months the rebels gained another loyal follower. They shared conviction: Truth Cathedral under papal guidance lost itself in imperial power whirlpools, indulging researching weapons, transitions, star-extinguishing—methods worshiping lords—abandoning “pursuing truth” original intent. Truth remains truth—even should empire crumble, armies destroy, truth endures. They held different doctrine: establishing genuinely true cathedral.
Though should they actually succeed, probably couldn’t solicit funding from lords anymore, Yu Feichen thought.
Now the pope brought them before the parking area. Another achievement—each small starship equipped weapons and force-field protective devices, withstanding long-distance transitions. Such hundred-ship formations sufficed flawlessly subjugating savage, backward planets, pushing imperial territory toward known galaxy edges.
For any incoming emperor, this proved tremendous temptation, worth exchanging anything.
The pope’s entourage described various module powers and functions. Yu Feichen understood the pope’s meaning but felt disinclined engaging this pretentious old thing in diplomatic pleasantries, listening perfunctorily without responding. Yet to observers this appeared as the future emperor reverently receiving papal instruction—quite father-loving-child-caring scenes. Only this filial son occasionally distracted, glancing toward his omega, as if fearing losing them.
Tan Per’s gaze also didn’t rest on starships, always watching there. When gazes occasionally met, they silently parted, leaving no trace.
Bishop Kaven witnessing this lowered his head. The small finger of his hand hanging at his side convulsed neurotically several times. After returning from starships with Duke Landon, the sharp, frenzied quality on leader Tan Per’s being suddenly vanished—he perceived it clearly.
Precisely then the pope regarded Tan Per, questioning under base planning pretense, even soliciting opinions.
After questioning, formal touring commenced. The place was massive, surveillance everywhere. Nine types of fighter jets alone, strict guards, numerous maintenance personnel. Though dispersed touring meant no mutual sighting, it wasn’t ideal murder-concealment location.
Yu Feichen understood the pope wouldn’t openly act at this occasion, his demeanor relaxed somewhat.
Yet when the pope said “Landon, accompany me looking there,” Yu Feichen still reluctant going alone. He looked toward Tan Per, about saying “sorry, I don’t wish leaving Tan Per,” when seeing Tan Per thoughtful-looking, regarding troubled-appearance Bishop Kaven.
The supreme deity seemed considering how retrieving wayward believers, preventing rebel internal chaos. Yu Feichen left the bewitching stage to them, giving Bai Song a faint “you know what to do” eye signal, following the pope toward the opposite heavy fighter jet.
The fighter jet gleamed pitch-black, interior profoundly cold. Pope Paul relaxed posture upon entering, yet Yu Feichen proved even more comfortable here, seemingly unsurprised, footsteps intervals fixed, more regular than second-hand movement, inexplicably making people’s hearts palpitate.
The pope realized current Landon, even without relationship with Tan Per, constituted extremely dangerous individual. Perhaps negotiating with tigers proved error, yet he’d no other paths.
The pope intended finding pretense opening today’s conversation when Yu Feichen suddenly spoke.
“Your Holiness,” he said matter-of-factly, “I dislike talking.”
Pausing, he continued: “Whatever you wish saying, please say it first.”
Pope Paul hadn’t expected him opening with negotiation, lacking imperial nobility grace, momentarily unable adapting to this blunt speaking manner. His carefully prepared speech became useless. After ten seconds silence, couldn’t produce words.
Yu Feichen observed the pope’s face showing livid coloration, as if before thesis defense compelled revising, immediately self-reflected. After one second reflection, his previous tone seemed sufficiently warm and courteous—apparently not his problem.
His task attitude toward this world really wasn’t enthusiastic. First, this world prospered peacefully—things could wait. Failing completing tasks a year, two years later wouldn’t kill additional thousands. Second, imagining the supreme deity returning to paradise resuming that lukewarm demeanor, he felt somewhat regretful, wishing eternal sleep flower pheromone soaking people several more days.
Moreover, Bai Song labored diligently. A snail climbing trees—hardly falling behind progress.
Therefore unless the pope offended him, he felt disinclined proactively seeking trouble. Yet since the pope now targeted Tan Per, he abandoned notions of further procrastinating here. In several days perhaps Tan Per’s great conversion already gathered all rebels under his rule.
Observed by such direct eyes, the pope, despite tremendous momentum, felt diminished by half, let alone unable discerning Yu Feichen’s depths. From some point, he’d become controlled by others, moving cautiously.
Yu Feichen observed the livid color deepening, internally untroubled.
The pope opened: “You’re the finest alpha. Governing the empire, I pose no objection.”
Yu Feichen had grown immune to compliments. Fortunately the pope’s “but” arrived quickly.
“Yet Truth Cathedral must remain distant from all heresy,” the pope said. “Tan Per’s matter—everything follows law. I’m powerless.”
Irrelevant to topic, Yu Feichen jabbed at the pope.
“Respectfully,” he said, “your cathedral’s doctrine contains no clause defining heresy.”
Truth Cathedral, upon founding, perhaps truly pure. It didn’t exclude differing opinions, didn’t prohibit disputes.
Cathedral disputes—thousands of years everyone grew accustomed. A century ago, one bishop proclaimed world’s essence was waves, another declared essence was particles. They debated explosively ten years. Disciples meeting nearly fought each other. Finally another bishop proclaimed particles were waves, waves were particles. He got ambushed one midnight—murderer never identified. Nobles understood nothing, watching like circus, even finding it entertaining.
So Tan Per’s matter seemed trivial among nobles—becoming partners during exile counted as romantic anecdote. Cathedral pursuing rebels used private punishment.
The pope said: “Vast systems requiring eternal operation necessitate increasingly rigorous law.”
Meaning: previously nonexistent, henceforth necessary.
“I won’t seek anything for Tan Per. Everything follows law. After leaving cathedral, rebels become unrelated to him,” Yu Feichen said.
The pope seemed surprised at his agreeability.
“Yet today’s matter——” he indicated the pope using Tan Per as bait for rebels, speaking flatly, “lacks dignity.”
What exactly lacked dignity remained mutually understood. Walking silently, the corridor’s end contained a silver-white room with large office desk in the center, papers neatly spread—most centrally the pope’s “decree approving coronation,” text completed, requiring only right-bottom seal.
Apparently the pope came prepared.
Yet most negotiations proved similar—calculating gains and losses meticulously, seeking survival through amputation, yet forgetting they’d lost negotiating qualification.
They sat opposite each other. Yu Feichen immediately spotted several rigid-stance clauses: first, requiring emperor initiating law-revision procedures, adding ecclesiastical-contract law. Second, demanding a cluster of free planets in certain star clouds, requiring cathedral self-governance.
Yu Feichen recalled recent years’ frequent imperial succession changes, cathedral’s power deepening central authority—perhaps emperors’ weak spines signed these treaty-shame coronation agreements.
Yet requiring merely light signing, the pope’s seal falling, imperial throne entering hand, afterward boundless possibilities—quite worthwhile. Yu Feichen habitually completed tasks via shortest path then departed, caring nothing for subsequent flooding.
Had this been previous tasks, he’d truly done exactly this.
Yet currently——
About to open mouth, the steel floor suddenly trembled. Distant direction suddenly erupted enormous explosive sound!
Not their location—direction clearly toward Tan Per’s earlier position! Yu Feichen’s pen heavily struck the desk. Immediately, from hidden surroundings cathedral guards rushed forth, tightly surrounding the negotiation room!
Precisely one second later, another blast! This floor also shook.
The pope, advanced in years, momentarily confused hearing this, regaining clarity to find Yu Feichen’s phantom-like figure beside him, his killing aura almost palpable. The pope watched helplessly as Yu Feichen’s empty hand suddenly flashed brass-colored light, rapidly forming into substance. Next, the entire person grabbed the pope’s collar, yanking upward from his seat, a gun barrel pressing against his head, facing toward soldiers—unmistakably a hostage pose.
……They’d encountered a ghost.