Wandering Swordsman |

"Greetings, Your Holiness the Pope." Alice knelt on one knee, her movements swift and decisive, as always.

Shen Mo stood half a step behind her, doing the same thing as Alice.

The Pope slowly opened his eyes, his gaze as sharp as a hawk's as he fixed it on the two figures. After a moment, he spoke softly:

"Faceless, have you investigated this person's true intentions before bringing him back?"

"Your Majesty," Alice replied, bowing her head, "this person has been baptized by the Holy Spring and has submitted to the Holy Light."

The Pope nodded slightly, a hint of approval on his face. But he quickly changed the subject, his voice suddenly becoming low and somber:

"So... what about you? Have you regained your memories?"

This question struck like a thunderbolt!

The entire room fell silent.

Even the wind seemed to have stopped flowing.

Alice's body stiffened visibly, and countless images flashed through her mind in an instant: the confusion after losing her childhood memories, the pain during training, the indifference during missions...

She slowly raised her head, her eyes beneath the mask empty and lifeless, like a stagnant pool.

The Pope stared at her, awaiting her answer.

But the next moment, she did something no one had expected—

Click.

A soft sound.

She personally removed the silver mask that had been with her for many years and gently placed it on the cold stone bricks.

In an instant, the entire audience erupted in uproar!

The previously empty gaze disappeared, replaced by a pair of eyes as clear as autumn water;

That face, once covered by scars, is now breathtakingly beautiful, as if it were God's most perfect masterpiece;

Her skin was as white as snow, her eyebrows as dark as distant mountains, and her lips as delicate as cherry blossoms; every inch of her features was like a meticulously sculpted work of art.

"You…" The Pope stood up abruptly, his voice unusually trembling, "Your face… how is it healed?!"

That was what shocked him the most!

In his memory, Alice's right side of her face was almost completely ripped apart by the rock, leaving it a bloody mess. Even the most skilled doctor said that she would be disfigured for life and could not recover!

But now...

This face is not only intact, but even more beautiful and charming than it was back then!

This is no longer a simple cure, but a kind of almost miraculous power!

"Impossible..." the Pope murmured to himself, a hint of doubt and unease appearing in his eyes for the first time.

The surrounding bishops and deacons were speechless with shock. Who could have imagined that the cold and ruthless "Faceless" mask concealed such breathtaking beauty?

Just as everyone was in shock, Alice slowly stood up, her gaze sharp as a knife, piercing straight at the Pope.

Instead of answering the question, she countered with a clear but icy question: "What do you think?"

These three words are as light as a feather, yet as heavy as a thousand pounds.

The last shred of composure on the Pope's face crumbled instantly!

His pupils contracted sharply, and his muscles tensed, like an enraged lion.

"So it really was you who infiltrated my palace!" He slammed his fist on the table, his voice booming like thunder. "Take her down!"

At the command, the Judgment Knights, who were already on guard all around, drew their longswords in unison, their cold light flashing, and surged forward like a tide!

The entire terrace instantly transformed into a battlefield of life and death!

At this critical moment, Shen Mo made a move.

The moment his toes touched the ground, the air on the entire stargazing terrace of the sacred mountain suddenly froze.

Even the holy light flowing through the stained glass windows of the dome seemed to have been paused by an invisible giant hand—the light dust floated in mid-air, like billions of tiny stars frozen in amber.

Before Shen Mo’s black robes fluttered, the blue bricks on the ground within three feet of him cracked silently, with spiderweb-like cracks spreading in all directions.

Wherever it went, the centuries-old moss on the stone steps instantly turned to ash, and even the gold leaf on the relief of the Holy See's emblem peeled off in a flurry.

In that instant, everyone felt a sinking feeling in their hearts, as if an invisible mountain had pressed down on them. They felt a fear of death rising from the depths of their hearts, and everyone seemed to be frozen in place, unable to move.

Fear is not an emotion, but the collapse of the laws of physics.

The kneecaps of the front-row deacons suddenly made a "crackling" sound as they could no longer bear the pressure. Some of them knelt down on the spot, but even their elbows, which were supporting them on the ground, were stiff as iron—the muscle fibers were tightening on their own under the pressure.

The Pope's throne trembled silently.

For the first time, his back, which had been upright like that of a god, hunched over, his withered fingers digging into the lion head armrests, his nails cracking and bleeding, yet he was completely unaware.

The Pope stared intently at Shen Mo, using all his holy power to force himself to speak. His voice trembled as he asked, "Who...who are you?!"

Shen Mo lowered his eyes, the hem of his black robe brushing against the cracks in the ground, his voice calm enough to send chills down one's spine: "As you can see, at this moment, I am merely Alice's bodyguard."

"Enough!" He abruptly waved his hand, his withered fingers pointing straight at the dome. "So what if you're stronger than the Invincible Duke, the leader of the Seven Stars?!" A morbid light flashed in his eyes. "Once you've stepped into the Holy Spring, you'll be my prisoner forever!"

Before he finished speaking, he quietly made a hand seal with his left hand, activating the holy power within his body.

At this moment, among those present, only Shen Mo, who possessed spiritual energy, noticed a peculiar fluctuation in the air.

At that moment, Alice's voice rang out behind him, trembling uncontrollably: "Shen Mo... the holy power within me is surging wildly! It feels like a million ants are gnawing at my meridians..."

Shen Mo suddenly turned around.

Alice knelt on one knee, cold sweat streaming down her face. In a flash, Shen Mo realized that the so-called "Holy Spring" was nothing more than an eternal shackle imposed by the Vatican! None of the baptized could threaten the Pope's personal safety.

Seeing that Alice was showing symptoms, the Pope was quite pleased, but after a few breaths, Shen Mo still looked normal, which made the Pope panic.

The Pope's smug expression froze instantly. His ultimate trump card, which he was so proud of, was useless against Shen Mo.

Shen Mo did not speak. He simply turned around slowly, the hem of his black robe sweeping across the cold floor tiles, making a very soft "rustling" sound, which overpowered the heavy breathing throughout the hall.

He raised his hand, his palm hovering three inches above her left shoulder.

No contact was made.

But a wisp of demonic energy had already escaped from his palm, moving like a living snake, and silently entered the "Jade Pillow Acupoint" on the back of her neck.

In an instant—her back arched sharply!

It wasn't a scream of pain, but a suffocating spasm: as if a million ice needles were piercing out of his skull—it was the excruciating pain of the incongruous power within the Holy Spring being brutally torn apart by the demonic energy.

A pale golden light rose behind her ears, like flowing molten gold or burning flames, and then with a soft "hiss," it turned into a wisp of smoke and dissipated.

She slowly raised her head, her gaze meeting Shen Mo's drooping eyelashes.

There was no pity, no charity in those eyes, only a deep and calm certainty.

Shen Mo withdrew his hand, his robe sleeves fluttering slightly as he slowly turned around.

He looked at the Pope, and suddenly his five fingers clenched into a fist.

"Buzz—!"

A deep hum didn't come from their ears, but reverberated directly inside everyone's skull!

The throne beneath the Pope suddenly rose three inches off the ground without warning!

The Pope was like a puppet with its strings cut, violently pulled off his throne by an invisible force, tumbling three times in the air before crashing heavily onto the cold white stone floor!

His crown was askew, his scepter flew out of his hand and crashed to the ground with a clatter; his outer robe was covered in dust, and the little finger of his left hand was bent at an odd angle—the result of instinctively bracing himself on the ground when he landed.

The deacons and knights in charge of judging the court remained frozen in place like stone statues, their eyes darting about in terror.

Only Alice stood still, staring intently at the disheveled figure on the ground.

Shen Mo then turned to her, nodded, and said in a low but firm voice, "He's in your presence, you can do whatever you want with him."