Chapter 119#
Distant Star Reflection 27#
Perhaps Yu Feichen proved good. Yet they weren’t.
Rebels had just endured soul interrogation, painfully pondering life. Guards suddenly learned the ships entered self-destruct mode—they’d soon perish. Windsor’s wrists cuffed painfully, gun directed at his head. The noble duke heir’s greatest suffering previously was restless nights at his beloved omega brother’s wedding. Now experiencing subjugation for the first time.
Yu Feichen noticed the blood-thin wound line on Tan Per’s neck, regarding Windsor: “What happened to you?”
“Good news: Leader Tan Per resolved immediate crisis—we don’t die yet,” Windsor weakly said. “Bad news: the ship’s set course toward deathstar self-destruct. We’ll eventually die.”
Before the controls, Tan Per observed operation information and routes, opportunely supplementing: “Course cannot be altered. Twenty-five minutes until deathstar arrival.”
Guards and Windsor’s survival instincts burned gazing at Yu Feichen, as if he could make ships turn midair. Yu Feichen felt something wrong. Tan Per had controlled things well before he arrived. How did he become village salvation suddenly?
He naturally lacked ship-turning ability. Yet currently lacked the mood.
Yu Feichen stood towering before Kaven. Upon seeing him, Kaven’s eyes flooded pain and hatred. His fingers clawed randomly at the floor, seeking his weapon. After fumbling briefly, that narrow blade remained in Tan Per’s hand.
Yu Feichen naturally saw the blade. Had he possessed the gun, Kaven’s right hand and head would be gone. Unfortunately absent. Only now realizing his unconscious gun-hiding seemed somewhat suspicious—uncertain whether Tan Per noticed. Hopefully not. This thing came illegally, after all.
He merely gazed down at Kaven, asking: “What did he tell you?”
Kaven instead looked toward the severely injured pope: “You…what did you do?”
Previously believing Landon and Tan Per sided with the pope, the pope appeared so pathetic here—something none imagined, dared imagining.
Yu Feichen laughed: “Does it concern you?”
Despite the laughing tone, the cabin’s atmosphere became more forbidding after speaking. Everyone fell deathly silent. Participating rebels lowered heads speechlessly. Their faces showed remarkable color variations.
Windsor ignored the chill, still smiling faintly, answering for Kaven: “Leader Tan Per simply reminded them what they originally resisted.”
The aging cathedral under the pope’s leadership blocked certain people’s truth-pursuing paths. They gradually came together. Overthrowing papal rule was necessary for achieving aims, yet the path proved so difficult, ideals so ethereal. Years later this became aim itself. They viewed the pope as floods and fierce beasts, mortal enemies, sole path obstacles. Thus when Tan Per reappeared, such reactions erupted.
Yet the pope knew this. He needn’t act—merely slight provocation sparked internal rebel disputes. Original leaders became excluded heretic enemies.
Windsor sighed. Beliefs too corrupt. Nothing in the world remained pure.
Tan Per used the light blade cutting Windsor’s restraints. Windsor straightened his garments, restoring dignified elegance: “Thank you.”
Tan Per said: “I’ve involved you.”
Windsor: “Honor being involved by you.”
Yu Feichen regarded Windsor flatly.
Tan Per smiled, closing the narrow blade. Light extinguished. Only silver hilt remained—murder weapon in their hand, resembling exquisite artwork. “Give me,” Yu Feichen said.
Tone natural, like noticing novel toy wanting examination. Tan Per gave it.
After turning the switch, Yu Feichen stowed the object. Parting Tan Per’s hair, exposing the neck wound. Blood hadn’t dried. His fingertip slowly wiped flowing fresh blood.
This person merely lowered head observing it, no other movements. Yet Windsor witnessing this slightly chilled. That wound mattered little—would self-heal without treatment. Tan Per examined Yu Feichen’s entire body, confirming no injury, softly saying: “I didn’t expect you arriving.”
Yu Feichen: “What else would I do?”
Considering, Tan Per said: “I anticipated receiving your mission-completion message before reaching the deathstar.”
Yu Feichen wasn’t bothered responding. Possibly pressing the pope signing coronation approval, then getting him signing multiple unfavorable treaties, the thirty percent progress completed—rather than shooting the pope twice, bringing him fleeing together.
Yet with Tan Per aboard, rationality seemingly vanished.
“I must protect my omega,” he said.
The supreme deity smiled. Some tenderness appeared between brows. This reassured Yu Feichen somewhat. When the deity’s gaze toward his gun first appeared, he’d truly bristled. Yet now felt even discovery mattered little.
Before so many people, the deity wouldn’t act. After isolation, inevitably wouldn’t either.
——Sole concern: returning to paradise afterward. Maximum: confiscation. Yu Feichen perpetually felt the deity’s tolerance toward him remained extraordinarily high.
Louder sobs erupted. That “I must protect my omega” seemed stabbing Kaven harder. When they abandoned their leader over vague crisis-sensations, yet another chose sacrificing everything chasing this doomed deathstar-bound ship—their beliefs and emotions seemed so pale.
Already pale, Yu Feichen thought.
Just then the pope finally recovered breath. After violent coughing, observing surroundings clearly, he said: “You…bringing me here…what exactly intend?”
This question sounded ridiculous.
“Could you not,” Yu Feichen flatly said, “merely remain baggage?”
This successfully deepened the smile-light in Tan Per’s eyes. Observing, Windsor directly looked ceiling-ward, fearing involvement.
The pope: “…”
To grasp current situations, the pope scanned the crowd. Discovering an absent priest—probably escaped seeking survival.
Pope inhaled deeply. This sensation of losing event development control had occurred too frequently today. Simultaneously, his remaining bargaining chips seemed pitifully scarce.
Yet he couldn’t die like this.
“Escape pods exist,” only hearing the pope say. “Yet only cardinal-level-and-above permissions unlock.”
Cardinal-level and above—only pope and deputy. Meaning only the pope.
Nobody spoke, apparently unwilling escaping. The pope became anxious, asking again: “What exactly do you want?”
Yu Feichen still didn’t speak. Those cold eyes made people’s hearts shudder.
“Want coronation decree? Or…” the pope regarded Tan Per, gritting teeth surrendering maximum interests: “Want him becoming successor pope?”
Toward the pope’s gaze, Tan Per politely, coldly shook his head.
The pope’s breathing suddenly roughened: “Still pushing that language system?”
Tan Per: “What if?”
The pope coughed several times. Tan Per leaned, helping him up from the floor, sitting beside him. Finally receiving non-brutal treatment, the pope appeared much improved.
Pope Paul’s eyelids drooped from age. His lips tightened then relaxed. Yu Feichen observed extended moments, feeling this should be compassionate expression.
“Universal language promotion represents changes affecting entire cathedral. Tan Per, my rejection wasn’t prejudice. Simply not appropriate now,” the pope’s voice hoarse. Continuing, regarding Kaven and others: “I know your rebellion reasons…you believed truth-exploration shouldn’t bind to empires.”
Nobody challenged this, so papal voice steadied considerably.
“Yet through years…we lacked our own territories, true finances, taxes…we only depended on lords——” he erupted violent coughing.
When others spoke, even merely coughing, courteous nobility shouldn’t interrupt. Windsor remained silent. He felt the pope should appeal poverty, not himself.
Coughing finished, the pope steadied, tone heavy: “I never forgot truth-pursuit, never forgot…our subjects.”
“Abolish secret language, promote universal tongue,” Yu Feichen opened, interrupting papal eloquence.
“As thanks, I’ll expand all empire monasteries, providing universal language and knowledge education to all subjects,” he spoke slowly, word-by-word. “Satisfied?”
The pope’s expression suddenly froze. In ship-sailing humming, he resembled plaster fixed in wind for dozens of seconds before exhaling words: “I don’t need it.”
“Why?”
“Our current population…suffices reading truth.”
“Research results are snowmen?” Even with Tan Per monitoring, Yu Feichen’s patience hit minimum. He flatly said: “Begin returning to capital.”
The pope laughed bitterly, gritting teeth: “Then together reaching deathstar.”
Humanity here averaged long lifespans. He possessed several-score or more years remaining.
Yet——
Yet reaching dialogue’s deadlock, forced unveiling layer-by-layer masks, using actions acknowledging inner truth.
When secret-language barriers are flattened, everyone equally seeing truth, truth-exploration necessarily enters dazzling new paths.
Yet then, would Truth Cathedral’s cities still exist? Would papal existence remain?
Did he truly care about cathedral or truth—or merely supreme power these brought?
Regarding rebels opposing the pope years-long, most pursuing what—genuine new cathedral, or power-transfers benefiting themselves?
Windsor observed everyone’s expressions, smiling slightly. Most people’s purposes weren’t particularly noble, thus pure pursuits proved precious. He regarded Yu Feichen and Tan Per—the two pursuing relatively-pure pursuits approaching world-charity—raising a sincere internal confusion.
“I’d say something,” Windsor genuinely said: “You’re truly not panicking at all?”
Finishing, he pointed ceiling’s massive crack. The fighter jet Yu Feichen arrived in disappeared long ago across cosmos. This person ejected the capsule straight into their ship, forcibly docking. Current ship hull suffered severe damage, beginning smoking.
Simultaneously, oxygen concentration dropped rapidly.
Most fatal: this ship truly headed unstoppably toward deathstar. Observing those two’s composed demeanor, he’d thought visiting outer star systems.
Yu Feichen said: “You can find him opening escape-pod permissions.”
“Your Holiness,” Windsor immediately obliged, respectfully: “Trouble opening permissions. I’ll donate ninety percent Windsor’s annual taxes afterward.”
The pope merely laughed coldly, observing Yu Feichen.
This represented life-death stakes. Should Yu Feichen want living, he must surrender to him.
Windsor returned unsuccessful, artificially sighing.
Yu Feichen merely fetched alcohol, disinfecting Tan Per’s wound. Tapping something on the flight-control platform—yet after tapping, flight conditions remained unchanged, apparently futile effort.
Time passed second-by-second. Cabin oxygen rapidly declined. Ship flight became unstable. Alarms shrieked. Hallway sounds of toppling, shattering objects emanated.
Growing ever closer to death’s moment, the pope’s fingers gripping the handrail tightened progressively, knuckles already blanching.
Precisely then——
Yu Feichen took a communication.
Windsor raised eyebrows.
Initially no one spoke on opposite end—machine sounds, like control rooms. Seconds later human voices sounded: Kayan’s voice, Simons’ voice. These two voices appearing that instant smashed the pope’s last rationality through wrathful explosion. Yet he’d become powerless. Only dark thoughts remained: let everyone die aboard this ship. Then all his crime evidence disappears with Landon’s demise.
Thinking thus, his lips curved showing frenzied relief-smiling. Raising eyes, he suddenly met Duke Windsor’s enigmatic smile.
“Yu-ge,” the opposite end’s steady voice transmitted, “received your coordinates and course. Next you must confirm this ship can transition, and force-field already activated.”
Yu Feichen: “Activated.”
“Phew…wait, confirming final parameter.”
Aboard, Yu Feichen also maximized force-field intensity.
Bai Song’s barely-calm voice transmitted: “Distance, seven units; time, five-seconds hence. I’ve opened mirror-star wormhole for you. Destination: Holy City upper atmosphere. 4, 3, 2…”
Rebels and guards exchanged gazes. Dullness suffused with numbness.
Today, nothing could surprise them anymore.
Nothing.
Click.
The pope finally crushed the seat’s armrest.