Battlefield Priest's Diary

Chapter 63 Confrontation
"Please wait a moment, I'm coming!" came a voice from inside the house speaking in completely accented Russian, followed by the sound of footsteps.

quack!
As the door opened, Philip seemed to hear an unpleasant bird call, and a dark shadow disappeared at the edge of the window.

The priest in black stood at the door to greet me, still holding the plain crucifix in his hand.

Looking at the way the other person was holding the cross, Philip chuckled to himself. The gesture didn't look like that of a clergyman, but rather like that of a villager holding an axe ready to chop wood.

He's a complete country bumpkin and layman; he doesn't even understand basic religious gestures before wading into this mess.

Unlike others, Philip was not intimidated by the kennel's exaggerated behavior after the incident. His extensive travels in his youth had given him a wealth of experience.

On the vast continent, there are always some people with strange and unusual abilities. He has seen 12-year-old children with photographic memories, people who can swim like fish, and even guys who can sleep in the same cage as lions.

Including myself, which of these guys who came to the Winter Palace hoping to get a share of wealth didn't have some skills of their own?

If everyone could be called a saint, then there would probably be enough saints in this land to make up at least a deck of cards.

At the same time, Qin Hao was also sizing up the Frenchman opposite him.

Unlike the others, Philip Vashad is the most unstable variable here; he shouldn't be here at all right now.

Historically, this Frenchman and Rasputin likely met Nicholas II and his family one after the other, and the Frenchman left Russia hastily after Rasputin gained favor.

What happened between the two sides during this period, and what the final outcome was for the French, are not recorded in detail in history.

But no matter what, the person in front of me is definitely someone I should be wary of.

"Hello, Mr. Philip, it's so late, is there anything I can help you with?"

"There are indeed some minor matters; may we go inside and discuss them?" The Frenchman gave a mysterious smile.

"Please come in." The priest in black stepped aside and let the Frenchman into the house.

Upon entering the room, the Frenchman glanced at the furnishings and his attention was quickly drawn to two teacups on the table.

Has anyone been here?

Who?
This guy has only been here for a few days. Has he found an ally, or something else?
Upon seeing this, the French psychic decided to test the waters first.

“Father Pugin, you seem very familiar with this place. Have you been here before?” the Frenchman asked with a smile.

"Have you been here before? I suppose so, but things are a little different here now." The priest in the black robe answered ambiguously.

Is it?

What do you mean?
"You're not trying to say you've been here in a dream, are you?" Philip joked, referring to receiving revelation in a dream as a common opening line used by charlatans.

"Not really," Qin Hao added to himself—"This should be called my dream."

"Alright, everyone's time is precious. I'm here to assist you in informing you that His Majesty will be holding a military review here in three days to boost morale, and His Highness the Crown Prince will also be traveling with you."

"At the same time, His Majesty requested that we also attend the ceremony."

"Mr. Philip, is that all? If so, it seems unnecessary for us to communicate at this time." Qin Hao remained vigilant.

"Of course, that's not all. As you know, His Highness the Crown Prince's health has never been very good, so we need to be careful."

The Frenchman slowed his pace, turned around, and pressed his hand to his chest. "By the way, I have the honor of serving as His Highness the Crown Prince's health advisor."

"I've heard you're skilled in medicine. I need to know your expertise so we can coordinate things properly." The Frenchman had a completely harmless smile on his face.

Is this guy just here to assert his dominance? Qin Hao frowned almost imperceptibly and replied casually, "I only know some folk remedies; I'm not exactly a medical expert."

"Really? Aren't you being too modest?" The Frenchman's expression grew increasingly mysterious.

"Of course, it's just a very ordinary skill, especially compared to a master of mysticism like yourself."

"Sigh... why is it that every time I try to have a sincere conversation, I'm met with such a heartless rejection?" Philip Vashad sighed sadly and lowered his head. When he looked up again, his deep eyes met the black-robed priest's.

"Can you tell me everything you know?"

A strange light gleamed in the Frenchman's eyes; this was his specialty.

In his youth, he studied hypnosis with a master and, due to his talent, achieved considerable success over the decades.

Most people would be deeply hypnotized if they stared into his eyes for a short time, which was his means of survival in the Winter Palace.

Come on, look at me, and tell me everything you know.

He looked into the black-haired priest's eyes, and in those dark pupils, he could see... he could see...

He seemed to be unable to see anything.

He could only see the pitch black surroundings, and his hands and feet felt as cold as if they had fallen into the sea.

Moreover, it seemed as if I was slowly sinking, reaching out to grab something, but unable to grasp anything.

As he felt suffocated, the fear of death made him strain to look around, trying to find even the slightest possibility of survival.

He saw a body weighed down with heavy objects floating on the seabed. As the water flowed, the body slowly turned toward him.

And isn't that terrified face his own?

Am I...am I going to die?

Am I... already dead?

The candlelight flickered, and an eerie scene unfolded in the room: two men stood in the center of the living room, staring at each other, but neither of them spoke.

Quack!! Quack!!

The mournful cawing of crows shattered the tranquility of the night.

The two separated instantly.

Philip Vashad nearly collapsed to the ground, drenched in cold sweat, feeling his shirt was completely soaked.

"You...you...who exactly are you..." The Frenchman's lips trembled, unable to utter a complete sentence.

“Mr. Philip, it seems we are not in a position to continue our conversation today.” The priest in black opened the door with a stern face, issuing an order to leave.

The Frenchman struggled to his feet, instinctively avoiding the other person's gaze, and stepped silently into the rain.

I heard the sound of someone slipping and falling outside the house.

Quack! Quack!

Odin flapped his wings and flew back into the house, his harsh cries carrying a hint of concern.

"Good job, buddy!" Qin Hao stretched out a hand and took out some jerky. Odin flapped its wings and flew to his shoulder.

Qin Hao hadn't felt good either; he still felt a lingering discomfort in his head, as if he'd been hit hard with a hammer.

It seems the military parade a few days from now might not be so simple.

He leaned back in his chair and muttered to himself.

The Frenchmen in the distance looked back with lingering fear, and the silhouette of that person was reflected in the window of the cabin.

Suddenly, he saw a scene that almost stopped his heart: black wings were spreading out from the shadow's shoulder, as if it were spreading its wings and flapping them!
(End of this chapter)