Extraordinary Pedigree.

Chapter 994 Going straight to Huanglong
Monford's breath hitched.

When that intelligence settled in his mind, he felt as if he had been hit by a heavy hammer, and a cold, empty feeling quickly spread through his chest.

He had a sense of shattered faith and a dreamlike feeling.

Astaroth, the Cardinal Patriarch of St. Cuthbert, even such a prominent figure was a member of the Fifth Church…

He had never imagined that the giant who sat high on the altar and held the power to interpret doctrine was actually a member of the Fifth Church. In that instant, he almost suspected that the entire dome of St. Cuthbert had become a giant trap, and that he himself was nothing more than a sparrow trapped in a cage.

Monford's throat tightened, and he looked up, his eyes darting nervously to Xia Xiu. His voice was urgent, as if he were seeking a stabilizing force from the other:
"...Sir, what's our next step—"

Xia Xiu stood quietly, his silver cane tapping the ground lightly, producing a crisp echo.

His golden eyes were calm. He raised his head, his gaze sharp as a knife, and fixed on the distant dome.

"Go to the place he mentioned."

Xia Xiu's tone was crisp, like a verdict or a command.

"Go directly to see the Patriarch."

Monford hadn't expected Xia Xiu to be so decisive.

Without discussion, without careful planning, without even the slightest probing, the man simply blurted out "go".

His throat was dry, and he opened his mouth, his voice urgent: "My lord... are we going to go now? We haven't even fully digested the intelligence, let alone prepared an escape route. If the Patriarch is really setting a trap, waiting for us to step into it, then—wouldn't that be like walking into a snare?"

Xia Xiu glanced at him sideways, a smile playing on his lips—a smile that wasn't frivolous, but rather one of superior confidence. He slowly raised his cane, the runes at the tip glowing as if igniting some invisible gear in the air.

"Don't worry." His tone was relaxed, yet carried a sense of pressure. "Here, I am the strongest."

Before they finished speaking, spiral-shaped patterns of light appeared on the ground beneath their feet.

That's a Möbius strip, its twisted lines constantly entwining in the air, as if trying to tear the entire space apart.

Monford's heart tightened as his body was instantly lifted up by a force.

The weight beneath his feet vanished, as if countless hands were grabbing him from all directions and dragging him into an unseen rift.

A deafening roar filled his ears; it wasn't the sound of wind, but the cracking of space itself. His chest ached from the pressure, his blood was suddenly pulled, and he could even feel his heartbeat slowing down by half a beat.

The line of sight begins to stretch, the walls of the sanctuary are stretched into long lines, and light and shadow are twisted into a stream of fire.

He saw Xia Xiu's figure enter the halo first, his back as steady as an iron wall, the silver staff in his hand pointing straight ahead, as if to open a path.

Monford's teeth chattered as he reached out to grab something, only to touch a distorted void. A deep unease welled up inside him, but all his struggles were in vain.

Space flipped completely at the last moment, heaven and earth suddenly collapsed, and the person was violently thrown into another unknown realm.

……

……

Night fell, pressing down on the outer walls of the Far East Cathedral. The bell tower was shrouded in darkness, its bronze face swallowing the lamplight, with only the candlesticks under the portico providing a sliver of warmth. A gentle breeze swept across the stone steps, scattering incense ash and stirring the curtains. Inside, the crowd moved slowly forward, crosses lined up, deacons held candles, and groups of canes shifted positions on either side, the sound of footsteps on the stone slabs rhythmic and cold.

Patriarch Astaroth stood behind the altar. A platinum shawl draped over his shoulders, a brooch pressed down on the pages of a book, and his staff stood at his side. A faint line etched his forehead, and his gaze was deep and thoughtful, as if he were measuring every inch of air in the hall.

He looked at the candlelight, listened to the soft test notes of the organ, smelled the mixture of frankincense and beeswax, and raised his hand to signal the start.

The prayer begins, the echo turns back at the top. The deacon turns the page, the memorial cloth is laid out, and the silver cup is placed.

Astaroth read aloud, his rhythm steady, each sentence ending sharply without lingering. His voice drowned out the whispers of the crowd and the newcomers at the door. At the third verse, he paused for a half-beat, letting the chimes travel through the dome before returning to the ground.

The queue progresses to the distribution stage.

The deacon carried the box, printed the books, registered them, and stamped them. One copy of "The Secret of the Stars" landed in their hands.

In the noble district, people reached out their hands, guild representatives counted their money, and seal shop leaders nodded to each other.

Patriarch Astaroth looked down from the steps, mentally marking each face: those arriving for the first time, those already members, those hesitant…

The third row of the right-hand corridor, the bookseller's stall—was empty.

His brow twitched slightly; that seat should have belonged to Boyar.

He immediately felt a “tap” in the Fifth Church.

It was an invisible chain that could confirm the presence of each member individually. He knew very well that the protective mechanism would be automatically triggered if anyone betrayed him or was captured by external forces.

Although betrayal is almost impossible within the Fifth Church, it's possible that the Fifth Church's enemies might have some strange methods to dig out intelligence.

Astaroth's expression remained unchanged, but a sense of unease rose within him.

He slowly tightened his grip on the shepherd's staff, looked up and continued reciting the scriptures. His voice remained steady, but a shadow had appeared in his eyes.

Something has triggered the protection mechanism.

“…The enemy has entered the city,” he thought to himself.

He did not stop the Mass.

The songs, prayers, and bells continued to ring out in unison. He subtly gestured to the Qingling Regiment to tighten their defenses. The shield-bearing knights immediately moved to block the side door, their sharp eyes scanning the crowd.

The disappearance of Boyar and the harvesting of nodes all indicate that someone has begun investigating the Fifth Church, and the enemy may be inside Far East City.

Even so, he remained certain that no matter how bold the enemy was, they would not dare to make a direct move in such a place.

This is the cathedral, the heart of St. Cuthbert. Prayers, sacred objects, the Order of Purification, the Deacons… the protection here is layered upon layered, so much so that even lurking heretics must avoid its sharp edge. Astaroth was well aware of the enemy's presence, but he also believed that they would be cautious, would observe, and would probe from the shadows.

"They won't act so quickly," he reassured himself.

"There is protection, there is a cleansing ceremony, and there is a mass. If the other side wants to infiltrate, they will definitely do it slowly and will not tear the veil directly."

This logic is perfectly natural for the Patriarch of a peaceful nation. Caution is the norm; a direct assault would be tantamount to suicide.

He was even considering whether to secretly summon several heads of the printing houses after the Mass to investigate any clues from the sidelines.

However, the next moment, reality shattered his calculations.

--boom.

The sanctuary's stone floor suddenly sank, followed by the emergence of a ring of light interwoven with black and silver. The lines spiraled and twisted, like a giant ring forcibly drawn on the marble tiles, causing the air to collapse.

"What is this?!"

Those closest to the front cried out first, chairs overturned, and candlesticks swayed. The deacons retreated in panic, spilling wax from their candles. The Puritans immediately raised their shields, but their eyes also betrayed their terror.

Astaroth's heart pounded. He stared at the spinning ring, his eyes twitching, his breathing becoming rapid. Space distorted and collapsed before his eyes, the candlelight behind the altar was stretched out, and the chimes sounded intermittently in his ears.

“…How is it possible…”

He forced a whisper from his throat, his fingers gripping his shepherd's staff tightly.

Deep within the vortex, light patterns rippled and folded.

A pair of feet stepped out first, clad in a black suit and carrying a silver cane. Immediately following behind, another figure was pulled out by space.

The entire cathedral fell into a deathly silence, with only gasps of fear remaining.

Everyone stared at the two figures that slowly walked out.

Astaroth's pupils contracted violently.

He never imagined that the enemy would actually—bring the cathedral directly into it!

No way, how can this person be so brave!

The air before the altar was heavy and oppressive. Patriarch Astaroth stared intently at the two figures emerging from the distorted space, his palms sweating.

The blond youth smiled slightly, tapping his cane lightly on the ground with a crisp sound.

"Nice to meet you, Patriarch Astaroth."

Xia Xiu's voice wasn't loud, but it echoed through the dome, each word like the clanging of metal, "I heard you've been very busy lately—busy distributing 'The Secret of the Stars.' So, I came here specifically to say hello."

The Patriarch's expression changed drastically. Before he could speak, the Qing Staff Corps had already raised their shields, their spears clattering to the ground, and they stepped forward in unison.

The deacons followed, raising the cross, candlesticks, and scriptures together, chanting prayers in unison.

The mass instantly turned into an attack.

"Go!" the captain shouted.

The spearhead, gleaming coldly, pointed directly at Xia Xiu. The shield slammed shut, and footsteps pressed down like an iron torrent. The deacon's prayers transformed into oppressive sonic waves, and billowing incense smoke rushed forth, as if to drown all heretics with holy light.

Xia Xiu stood still, without moving an inch.

He simply raised one hand, and the curve of his lips deepened.

Behind him, a purple-gold radiance suddenly burst forth—[Sisyphus].

It was a colossal body, like a resurrected god, with muscles sculpted to perfection and eyes burning with a purple-gold light. Power surged in the air, pushing open the cathedral's space layer by layer like waves.

The next instant, Sisyphus stretched out one hand, his five fingers spread wide, and the air suddenly collapsed.

Vector manipulation—

The charging spears were deflected mid-air, their tips abruptly changing direction and sweeping towards their wielders. The Qing staff regiment's shield formation lost its balance under the force field, and the entire row collapsed with a thud, crashing into stone pillars.

The deacons' sacred texts shattered into fragments from their mouths, and the prayers abruptly ceased.

Sisyphus raised his other hand, and space folded into a Möbius strip at his fingertips. With a turn of the ring, the deacons' bodies were swept up by an invisible force, as if they were thrown into a vortex, and crashed heavily in front of the altar.

"Puff-puff--"

The sound of armor hitting the ground rang out one after another.

In the blink of an eye, the solemn cathedral was transformed into a battlefield, and the purgatory and deacons were crushed and routed.

Xia Xiu remained standing, leaning on his cane, his golden eyes sweeping over the crowd, and spoke calmly:
"This is what you call Holy Light Protection?"

His smile didn't diminish; instead, it deepened, as if he were judging all living beings.

Inside the sanctuary, all was silent.

The armor of the Puritans and their deacons lay scattered haphazardly on the stone slabs, sacred texts were broken, candles were extinguished, and smoke swirled in the air. Prayer had completely ceased, leaving only intermittent panting.

The believers remained frozen in their seats. Some instinctively clenched their hands together, their knuckles digging into their flesh without them even noticing; others shrank into the shadows of the benches, their eyes wide open, but dared not utter a sound.

Some people's lips trembled, their throats gurgled, but they couldn't utter a single word; others subconsciously made a prayer gesture, but the sound was stuck deep in their throats, as faint as a mosquito's buzz.

Many people simply stared, their eyes filled with fear: they had come to receive the blessing of the Fifth Truth, but now they witnessed the Temple Guard crumble in an instant.

They looked at the blond youth, at the colossal purple-gold shadow that appeared behind him, and at the silver staff that gently rested on the ground.

No one dared to move.

Fear weighed heavily on the entire cathedral.

Patriarch Astaroth took a deep breath, gripping his staff tightly, his voice sounding particularly heavy under the empty dome.

"Who are you? You broke into St. Cuthbert's Cathedral, ruined my Mass, and crushed my Chaplaincy... Do you know what you are doing? Do you know the consequences?"

His voice was deep, yet still carried the authority of a patriarch, as if trying to restore order from this chaos. The firelight before the altar reflected on his face, the interplay of light and shadow making him appear both angry and tense.

All eyes were on Xia Xiu.

The young man stood quietly, his blond hair gleaming coldly in the candlelight. He didn't respond immediately, but tilted his head slightly, as if listening intently to the Patriarch's question.

A few seconds later, a smile appeared on his lips, a smile that sent chills down one's spine.

“Cardinal Patriarch…that’s quite rare.”

Xia Xiu raised his hand and gently twirled the silver staff, his tone seemingly casual as he sighed:

“You who sit high on the altar, are you not the guardian of the sacred word? Yet now you are busy spreading heretical books.”

He paused, a hint of mockery flashing in his golden eyes: "How open-minded! Even beliefs can be changed so easily. Or are you recruiting new believers for the Fifth Church?"

The moment those words were spoken, it was as if all the air in the sanctuary had been sucked out.

The terrified believers exchanged bewildered glances, but dared not utter a sound. Astaroth's face suddenly darkened, his knuckles turning white on his staff, as if his disguise had been exposed in public, his eyes suddenly sharpening.

Xia Xiu still wore that smile, tinged with a playful disdain.

Astaroth's breathing quickened, his face darkening considerably in the candlelight. His chest heaved, his staff tightened, and his voice, laced with suppressed rage, echoed through the dome:
"Intruders! I urge you one last time—leave this place! This is the Cathedral of St. Cuthbert, and everything you have done will only bring destruction. If you leave now, I can still forgive your offense and pretend tonight never happened."

His eyes were cold and sharp, and his tone carried an undeniable authority, as if he wanted to use his last bit of dignity to force these two uninvited guests to retreat.

Xia Xiu lowered his head, gently twirling the silver staff in his hand, the tip tapping against the stone slab with a crisp sound. When he looked up, his golden pupils were as cold as blades. A smile played on his lips, but it carried a chilling edge.

"What if...I don't?"