Battlefield Priest's Diary

Chapter 99 A Sensual Murderous Intent

“Father Pugin, I have a few questions about Latin that I can’t seem to figure out. May I talk to you about them?” The Grand Duchess wrapped her slender arm around his arm, rubbing it against him intentionally or unintentionally as she spoke.

“It is my pleasure, madam. Please come this way.” The priest in black robes bowed slightly, and the two walked side by side into a small reading room.

The servants who witnessed this scene all lowered their heads, ignoring what was happening before them.

After the door closed, the two figures, seemingly having an affair, quickly separated.

The priest in black robes instantly withdrew his arm, while Irina stood properly like a child who had made a mistake, all her flirtatious demeanor gone.

"Think of a better reason next time! Doesn't it seem absurd to say you're studying Latin in a chapel?" the black-robed priest said unhappily.

“Yes… Father Pugin, I’ll find a more reasonable excuse next time.” Irina didn’t dare to argue and shrank back in fear.

"Alright, what's the matter this time? You can speak now." Qin Hao said in a commanding tone, showing no kindness whatsoever to this "most beautiful woman in Tsarist Russia".

“Yes, they had a meeting in my basement last night, and the people involved included…” Yin Lina carefully recounted the contents of the meeting, including the plot to deal with the black-robed priest.

"That's all? There should be military personnel at the gathering, right?" The priest in the black robe raised an eyebrow.

"They also mentioned something else: Britain and France promised that if we won, we could get Constantinople, the Bosphorus, and... and..." The Grand Duchess tried hard to recall the scene, her voice trembling with nervousness.

"And control of the Sea of ​​Marmara and the Dardanelles Strait," the black-robed priest blurted out the answer first.

"You...you...you already knew?" Irina looked at the person in front of her in surprise and fear. She only knew most of the things by eavesdropping, but the other party already knew.

"You can open and look at what I've given you," the priest in black robes said, turning around.

Irina rummaged through her pocket and pulled out a sealed note that the other person had given her last time, then scratched it open with her fingernail.

The thin slip of paper contained a simple timeline, spanning about half a month, covering major events that had happened around us, with the "Turkish Straits Agreement" prominently listed.

But this note was given to me a month ago!
The note had always been kept close to his body and had certainly not been switched. There was only one conclusion—the mysterious man in front of him could indeed predict the future, and with terrifying accuracy.

A feeling akin to fear rose from the bottom of her heart. Although the room wasn't cold, Irina couldn't help but hug her shoulders, looking rather pitiful.

Qin Hao glanced at the woman's surprised and uncertain expression and nodded to himself.

Although her lifestyle is somewhat immoral, this woman is not a brainless naiveté, and simply using blackmail to control her is not a reliable approach.

Using mystical hints and warnings appropriately can make it less likely for the other party to betray you.

Therefore, each time the two met, the priest in black would leave a message for Irina to open and verify the next time they met.

When the Grand Duchess clearly saw things in the "future" and they were confirmed one by one on paper, a kind of blind faith began to slowly grow.

Meanwhile, the 19-year-old woman discovered that no matter where she went, the priest in black robes could accurately know her location, as if a pair of eyes were watching her all the time.

After a period of time, Irina developed the illusion that she could never deceive the person in front of her, and now she has almost completely given in psychologically.

It's no use. Playing tricks is useless. No matter how you resist, the other party will eventually find out. So it's better to submit completely. The Grand Duchess often thinks this way now.

“Father Pugin…I’ve done everything you said. Can you really guarantee our safety?” Irina asked nervously.

"I never said I would protect you, but I promise to save you from one disaster. As for the future, that's up to you," the man said, gathering his sleeves.

"But...but my husband..."

"That depends on how you behave," the man said, pulling a cold object from his pocket and shoving it into the woman's hand.

Upon closer inspection, Irina discovered that she was actually holding a pistol.

"No! No! No!!" The woman dropped the pistol as if stung by a scorpion.

“Father, I, I dare not. He is my husband after all. I can’t, I can’t do it…” the woman pleaded, her voice trembling with tears.

“Stand up. This gun is not for shooting your husband.”

The priest in the black robe bent down and whispered, "This gun is meant to kill me."

The two of them stayed in the chapel's lounge for almost an hour before coming out one after the other.

The priest in black robes turned and entered the chapel, while Irina pretended to be calm as she walked towards the door, adjusting her dress as she went.

At least dozens of people, including servants, maids, and guards, saw her like this.

The 19-year-old Grand Duchess stood in front of the carriage, looked around, and only boarded the carriage after seemingly confirming that there was nothing wrong with her.

The wheels rolled forward, and in the distance, a black crow stood on a birch tree, gazing into the distance.

I wonder what the Grand Duchess would think if she knew that the eyes she felt were “watching her everywhere” were hired by a few pieces of jerky.
-
Rumors are perhaps the most fearless of authority. Throughout history, whether it is an invincible general, an artist admired by millions, or a monarch who conquers the entire continent, none can escape rumors and gossip, even during their lifetime.

Father Putin, however miraculous he may be, is still unable to escape this vicious cycle for the time being.

When the autumn wind blew and the first leaf fell, rumors began to circulate in St. Petersburg about the black-robed priest's erotic aura.

Legend has it that this omnipotent priest had a pair of captivating eyes that would mesmerize any woman who looked into them.

Although this black-haired priest looks to be only in his twenties, he is actually in his fifties or sixties because he absorbs the energy of young girls every day to keep getting younger.

Beautiful maids, court ladies, teenage girls, and noble ladies were all his targets.

With the help of those with ulterior motives, rumors gradually began to circulate about the Empress and several princesses.

Most of the poor scoffed at this, because many of them had received the holy bread and coal from the hands of God Father Pugin.

This argument was particularly popular among the lower-middle-class and aristocratic families with some wealth, because there were many "intelligent" and "active thinkers" among them.

How could there be a saint who has no desires? It turns out that Father Putin's hobby was beautiful women.

This leads to the assumption that all of the black-robed priest's previous actions were maliciously interpreted as acts of lechery—how could a lecher be selfless and altruistic? He must have been harboring ulterior motives.

In addition to the "saints," the "evil monks'" remarks also began to spread on a small scale.
-
At Yusupov Palace, as the nobles gathered again, a relaxed mood began to appear on everyone's faces.

"Your Excellency, what a brilliant plan! I heard that His Majesty even sent a telegram to the Empress to inquire about this matter," someone said happily, taking a sip of wine.

"This is only the initial effect. Only when ordinary citizens believe it can we truly pull him down from the ladder of sainthood," Yusupov responded with a smile.

A fragrant breeze wafted by, and the beautiful Princess Irina appeared in the hall, immediately causing a stir among the men present.

Rumors are a two-way street. When people spread rumors about the black-robed priest's scandalous affairs, they would naturally think of another question: just how beautiful must a woman be to make a "saint" lose his composure?

Although Irina Shayk once held the title of the most beautiful woman in the royal family, much of that was self-aggrandizement.

When she became the female protagonist of this story, she attracted more attention.

In stories depicting the Trojan War, most readers won't remember exactly how many people died on both sides, but they will all vividly remember Helen, the beautiful woman who brought ruin to the country.

As the music begins, people search for their dance partners on the dance floor.

Irina danced several dances, her skirt swirling like a blooming cosmos flower.

"No wonder she's the woman who can make that guy so infatuated," someone exclaimed sincerely.

“If I had such a beautiful swan, I wouldn’t trade it for a saint, or even an emperor,” someone else chimed in.

Some pragmatic people approached the prince and quietly offered their suggestions: "If Lady Irina can control that guy, could she indirectly manipulate the Queen? That might be better than killing him directly."

The prince nodded, glanced at his beautiful wife on the dance floor, and seemed to have a thought in mind.

An abrupt sound suddenly broke the harmonious atmosphere.

"Your Excellency! I am truly sorry, but I have something important to tell everyone immediately!" A well-informed fellow suddenly burst into the party hall.

The music stopped, and the nobles looked at the newcomer with confusion.

"Your Excellency, everyone, something terrible has happened!" The man swallowed hard to catch his breath and continued, "The Empress has just issued a new decree on behalf of His Majesty."

"His Majesty declared that the honor of nobles must be earned on the battlefield. Starting this year, the granting of new hereditary noble titles will be prohibited, and only life noble titles will be granted!"

"Furthermore, the number of seats representing nobles in the Duma will be reduced by 40%, with the proceeds allocated to 'patriotic businessmen' who have donated to the state."

After those two sentences were uttered, the entire banquet suddenly fell silent, as quiet as death.

After about two minutes, Prince Yusupov slowly opened his mouth and asked, "Has the order been confirmed? It is indeed His Majesty's order?"

"Your Excellency, the order will be officially issued tomorrow morning, but His Majesty has already issued the decree, and it's impossible to reverse it. Moreover, it is said... it is said..."

"What do you mean?!"

"It is said that this order was issued after that guy left His Majesty's palace."

An uproar erupted as the nobles were thrown into chaos, with shouts and curses echoing through the crowd.

Amidst the chaos, Prince Yusupov gripped the dinner knife beside him.

Blood was dripping down.

(End of this chapter)