Chapter 118#

Distant Star Reflection 26#

As the cabin door thundered shut, Bai Song tumbled half-voluntarily, half-kicked down the elevator. Standing immediately, guards converged from all directions: “What happened inside?”

Bai Song’s heart raced wildly, yet he trusted none among them. Struggling swallowing, he said: “Following…the pope’s orders, I must depart…personally delivering messages…to Cardinal Simons.”

Guards exchanged glances, their movements uncertain.

Their orders today proved vague—maintain everything here regardless incident, awaiting papal command. While exchanging looks, Bai Song urgently said: “No time!” Gripping his communicator, he sprinted toward exit. Guards didn’t pursue.

The ground continued trembling, hot wind striking faces. In the parking area, a starship’s tail ejected blue flame streams, surrounding stabilizer wings fluttering—unmistakably preparing for takeoff! Guards retreated before heat waves, wondering if someone intended stealing ships escaping, yet receiving no orders.

Bai Song sprinted throughout. He was a cardinal—outer guards uncertain, none dared blocking. Immediately departing the base entrance, he transmitted to Yu Feichen. Unfortunately, no one answered; he began frantically texting messages.

Yu Feichen heard the communication but had no spare hand.

Portions of the fortress’s power became the brass-tubed pistol in his hand. Restraining the pope, the gun barrel aimed directly at the lethal temple, he expelled one word coldly toward approaching guards.

“Leave.”

The pope stared wide-eyed. Security had unloaded all possible weapons—he’d never imagined such occurrences.

With the pope’s life threatened, guards had no choice but “leaving.”

Guards retreated, yet Yu Feichen’s attitude toward the pope showed no improvement. His fingers remained ice-cold and powerful, breathing audible in the pope’s ear—rhythmic terrifyingly. The pope momentarily felt his captor wasn’t human but emotionless machine. Just then Yu Feichen spoke, voice containing forest-cold, violently brutal emotions, making the pope startle awake, exhaling with relief.

Yu Feichen: “What would you do with him?”

The pope answered: “It’s not me.”

“Bang!”

Yu Feichen fired the instant words fell.

The pope’s face instantly contorted. His entire body slid toward the floor, then someone jerked him up by collar from behind. Massive blood poured from his right ribcage. Guards, hearing gunfire, swarmed again, yet discovered the pope hadn’t died—merely received severe injury, remaining captive.

The pope gasped heavily amid intense pain, his mind completely terrorized. Having occupied that supreme position so long, he’d never imagined someone would treat him this way—dare treating him thus. He’d assumed even as hostage, others would restrain themselves, treating him respectfully.

Yet he was completely wrong. This person was utterly unscrupulous madman.

He gasped: “You…”

Yu Feichen’s gun barrel moved toward his forehead’s vital position. Just then, louder explosions erupted outside, accompanied by massive mechanical operation humming.

Yu Feichen gazed downward, two blood drops on his cheek. After wiping, slight traces remained. His gaze swept guards: “What’s happening outside?”

One guard, unable withstanding psychological pressure, recalling chaotic scenes from the port window moments ago, trembled: “Some…some starship…lifted off.”

Yu Feichen raised his hand. The answering guard’s neighboring guard, who’d wanted speaking but hadn’t dared, collapsed.

Yu Feichen: “Which one?”

This time no hesitation. Someone eagerly answered: “Several people boarded it.”

A guard knowing his relationship with Tan Per caught the meaning: “Bishop Tan Per was aboard that ship.”

The pope erupted in shocked fury, staring fixedly at guards, making “heh heh” sounds—apparently not expecting his own guards could betray so easily.

Precisely then Bai Song’s message successfully arrived, text appearing on terminal.

“Yu-ge, Bishop Kaven betrayed us, seized Bishop Tan Per.”

“Another priest is his accomplice.”

“They don’t know where the ship’s headed.”

“I’m outside, Windsor’s inside.”

Messages scrolled past Yu Feichen’s peripheral vision. The situation clarified, his sudden, uncontrollable brutality from learning Tan Per might be in danger faded somewhat. He thought experiencing the supreme deity’s preaching failure constituted truly extraordinary experience.

Indeed, he understood the deity’s control over believers perfectly well, naturally assuming Tan Per possessed such influence over rebels. Yet those holding power forever walked tightropes. Few people possessed enough ability bewitching supreme deities. The pope couldn’t, hence rebels existed. Former Tan Per hadn’t achieved it either, thus rebels rebelled.

The pope now spoke, weakly repeating: “It’s not…me.”

Yu Feichen expressionlessly fired another shot into his shoulder. The pope screamed. Guards’ faces turned ashen.

Without papal permission and instigation, how could Kaven possibly attack Tan Per on papal territory?

Guards daren’t move. The pope lay on the floor unable rising. “Driving permissions,” Yu Feichen demanded. Yet both sides had completely torn diplomatic masks. Pope Paul, displaying more backbone than guards, stubbornly refused speaking.

The ship had already launched, meaning Kaven succeeded. The pope understood. He finally realized threats and temptations proved useless—only Tan Per’s safety constituted this person’s life-veins. How could he possibly surrender?

A cold smile appeared at the pope’s lips.

Yu Feichen’s smile proved even colder. The pope’s back chilled. In that cold, faint smile, he even perceived pity.

Yu Feichen directly smashed him onto the driving platform. Blood seeped into the floor’s mechanical crevices—horrifying sight.

“3, 16374,” Yu Feichen observed him, suddenly reciting a string of numbers, “257, 01.”

——Coordinate numbers. Marking a mirror star wormhole’s position. Not long ago, the emperor stepped into this wormhole, where his flesh and blood stolen, his life taken, becoming snowmen shadows appearing aboard the ship transporting Tan Per, destroying transition devices.

As these numbers were recited, the pope’s pupils contracted severely. Chills emanated from his spine, spreading throughout. His teeth chattered uncontrollably from uncontrolled tension. Blood flowed freely. His hands grasped his chest desperately. In the slippery blood, the pope suddenly recalled Cardinal Simons’ shoulder gun wound. He wasn’t stupid—instantly understanding all preceding and following circumstances, losing all strength in that moment.

“All evidence remains in my hands,” Yu Feichen said flatly. “Your Holiness, I’ve prepared thoroughly.” His fingers nimbly struck the driving interface. The screen immediately displayed driving permissions confirmation.

Exposure and disgrace seemed worse than death. The pope’s complexion faded gray like dust, expelling the key number string.

In the parking area, three minutes after the first ship’s abduction, another heavy fighter jet roared skyward, pursuing aerial flight paths desperately.

Bai Song anxiously called a shuttle—shared shuttles still required waiting.

Behind, thunderous roaring again. He turned, witnessing the fighter jet launching, remembering this was the one with Yu-ge and the pope aboard, exhaling with relief.

Bai Song understood his Yu-ge pursued people, having no spare attention for him. Planning next steps, he collided with approaching people—General Toahsi with guards arriving urgently. General Toahsi truly held capital military authority, theoretically obeying emperor command, actually showing affection toward the pope, blood relation to Losh Landon.

General Toahsi: “What happened inside?”

Bai Song pointed toward the jet disappearing skyward: “The pope flew.”

General Toahsi: “…?”

“Where’s Landon?”

“The duke also flew. Everyone flew.”

“…What happened?”

Bai Song: “Negotiations broke down, probably.”

General Toahsi’s expression gradually twisted, as if cooked duck escaped with pope and Landon: “Did Landon do something ridiculous again?”

General’s exceptional keenness filled Bai Song with familial warmth. He said: “Please take me to the Holy City, General. Don’t pursue—no matter what happened, we can’t catch them.”

General Toahsi had witnessed Yu-ge piloting. He remembered.

General considered momentarily, agreeing with Bai Song. Regardless aerial developments, they couldn’t catch up.

Boarding General Toahsi’s premium shuttle toward the capital, roadsides bloomed with celebration colors. People still celebrated the cathedral solving snowmen. Bai Song observed the Holy City’s outline gradually clarifying, recalling suddenly-occurring events. Everyone flew. Yu-ge addressed Kaven and the pope. Overthrow-the-cathedral mission ultimately unavoidably fell upon his shoulders. Bai Song felt growing-adult melancholy.

Aboard ship.

Several guards restrained Windsor. Yet he wasn’t the main target—after double-cuffing, he was placed aside. Tan Per’s life faced true threat.

All shipboard guards had been bought off. Kaven brought narrow-length light blade—latest experimental research, undetected in security. Opening switch, ion flows wove pale-blue thin blade. This thing, even striking steel and stone, would immediately split unbreakable objects in two.

Now it pressed against Tan Per’s neck, blade edge producing “chit chit” hissing. Tan Per’s neck skin already showed thread-thin wounds, blood flowing downward, disappearing into collar.

As this blood flowed, Kaven’s blade-gripping hand trembled several times. Eye corners twitched neurotically. Observing Tan Per’s calm expression, Kaven felt overwhelming helplessness suddenly surging. After helplessness came doubled madness. Unable severing Tan Per’s throat, he’d push the switch forward, expanding light blade area——

“Kaven,” Tan Per suddenly spoke, flatly saying, “I wish knowing your reason.”

Finally receiving feedback for crazy actions, long-suppressed emotions found breakthrough. Kaven’s body trembled with excitement, yet his voice became dryer, deeper.

“Because you…betrayed us,” he said. “You…lied to us. You claimed building new cathedral, yet became future emperor’s omega.”

His chest heaved violently, growing increasingly agitated. Windsor turned away, not daring looking, praying Kaven held the blade steady.

“Landon found me, told me mirror star truth, requesting I announce publicly. I was excited. I knew you discovered truth. These years, we finally had legitimate opportunity, telling them…telling them the pope’s crimes. I even wanted…helping you, letting you regain freedom,” his voice hoarse. “Then what? Before the pope committed major error, you stopped him. You and Landon gained renown among electors. The cathedral…the cathedral…now everyone empire-wide praises it! Our other partners already understood. They warned me not trusting omega, your heart already aligned with nobility. Only I…only I remained confused.”

Kaven gasped. Despair from betrayal made him like caged beast.

Tan Per’s voice remained quiet, warm: “More?”

“You…to let Landon become emperor, could abandon such opportunity. Now he merely needs papal agreement to succeed…you…the pope necessarily…”

“You fear I’ll align with the pope, accepting all his demands?” Tan Per softly said.

Kaven painfully closed his eyes.

He was the most radical rebels, most fervent follower. Thus, seeing Tan Per and Duke Landon’s intimate demeanor, observing the pope’s warm attitude toward them, he felt struck by lightning. Organization members grew panicked. Sleepless nights and torment ensued.

Yet colder-minded people existed here.

“How much did you reveal?” a gloomy-faced priest suddenly addressed Tan Per: “Why were we invited here today?”

Windsor seemed hearing something hilarious, laughing, earning a guard’s gun against his head.

“I’m neutral,” Windsor clarified himself, then said, “yet if Tan Per truly revealed your names, would the pope invite living you here? How is your mutual trust inferior to mine and Duke Landon’s?”

That priest approached him. His expression showed determination—the gaze only resolute people possessed.

“He remaining beside Landon and pope one more day, our organization suffers one more day’s chaos,” he said. “We trust the former Leader Tan Per, not future emperor’s omega.”

Windsor maintained noble courtesy: “Because you believe omegas innately weak, changeable, untrustworthy? Yet you’ve forgotten what Leader Tan Per made you do formerly? He overcame inner fear during five-year stress periods, bringing you to today. Yet you betrayed him precisely when he finally gained salvation.”

“But the one saving him is Landon,” Kaven’s blade-gripping hand trembled again. Windsor hastily closed his mouth.

The gloomy priest wanted speaking. Yet Tan Per’s softly smiling voice sounded: “I suggest not disputing omega-related topics with Duke Windsor.”

Kaven stared fixedly at Tan Per’s eyes.

Former leaders weren’t like this.

Sharp, aggressive, filled with cathedral-aversion, revealing no omega weakness.

Yet not now…this way…

Kaven couldn’t describe current feelings, watching those calm ice-green pupils. He felt zero emotional fluctuation—accepting everything, forgiving everything. Unbothered by their defiance, defending nothing, harboring no unwilling captivity resentment. Like adults observing erring children.

Former leaders commanded obedience. Current leaders made people wish…weeping repentance.

He seemed knowing everything.

The blade cut slightly deeper into neck. Tan Per’s eyelashes finally slowly closed.

“I was wrong,” they softly said.

Kaven’s emotion finally approached collapse. “What did you do? Truly betray us?” he said.

“No,” Tan Per said.

“We’ve gone too far, forgotten many things,” sadness tinted their voice, sounding like sighs. “Forgetting what brought us together was truth-pursuit, not pope-hatred.”

Kaven froze momentarily, then trembled violently throughout.

In that frozen instant, Tan Per’s ice-cold fingers grasped his wrist. Horrified, he discovered he couldn’t resist.

The pale-blue narrow blade ghostlike transferred to Tan Per’s hand.

The priest fired bang.

The bullet traced a glaring arc. Tan Per’s hand extended forward, the thin light blade rotating between fingers. The whistling bullet collided directly with searing ion flow, “chit”-sounding into pitch-black smoke in high-energy fields.

Momentum let smoke continue toward Tan Per, yet it couldn’t sustain, finally dissipating before them.

Gunsmoke cleared. Under cold lights, the person remained composed-tranquil, grave as deities.

Without observing Kaven on the floor clutching his head, nor surrounding rebel members, they walked toward flight control platform, voice thin ice-cold: “Should one doubt oneself, observe how others behave.”

Seeing Tan Per safe, Windsor finally exhaled. Yet observing Tan Per’s profile, he couldn’t help silently mourning Yu Feichen.

He’d wanted simple, gentle omega brothers—preferably older, yet truly couldn’t challenge this type. Living several years together, one forgot who oneself was.

The control platform displayed surrounding cosmos environment, flight routes, radar imaging. In the image, another starship approached rapidly, growing ever closer.

Predetermined route set. The ship rushed toward the nearest deathstar to the capital.

“This is self-destruct mode. Won’t stop, can’t dock with other ships,” that priest suddenly spoke: “We’ve prepared death. Your alpha can’t save you.”

Tan Per merely gazed at ship images, offering no response.

The priest’s mind surged with baseless anxiousness. He didn’t understand why Tan Per appeared unaffected. To suppress inner anxiety, he continued: “Our capital-remaining partners will continue unfinished business.”

Before he finished, the ceiling suddenly roared. The entire ship shook violently. Surrounding furnishings tumbled clattering everywhere. Red warning light suddenly appeared. Piercing alarm sounded abruptly.

“Alert, alert, under attack——”

This world proves too dangerous, Windsor numbly thought. Meteor impact?

Soon they needed no guessing. Something had truly crashed through, piercing the ship’s thinnest outer hull. The ceiling here showed deformation craters.

“Alert, alert, A3 section damaged——”

“Attacking object: S537 ejection pod.”

“Alert, excessive temperature——”

The ceiling’s convex point hissed. Metal burned, deformed, curled, then dripped onto flooring. A pitch-black gap appeared.

From that gap rolled first the pope, covered completely in blood.

Then Yu Feichen, without rolling—descending himself, movements perfectly steady.

Landing on the floor, Yu Feichen observed surroundings. Guards’ ashen faces seemed oddly familiar. Looking further, Kaven was painfully weeping on flooring. Windsor remained four-limbed intact, cuffed aside. The supreme deity stood fine before the control platform, turning back observing him. After observing him, observing the ceiling’s smashed opening.

After observing these, he observed the brass-tubed gun in Yu Feichen’s hand.

Yu Feichen suddenly startled. The brass-tubed gun instantly vanished.

“Late,” he kicked the pope aside, preventing obstruction. Superficially addressing the gathered wide-eyed people: “Hello.”