Miss Wang Weina, even your cousin won't do!

Since his last meeting with Mostima, who had returned from Victoria, His Holiness the Pope has not appeared in public in person. But living in seclusion in the palace does not mean being indifferent to worldly affairs; His Holiness the Pope naturally has his own mouthpieces, or rather, his representatives.

"Your Highness, Holy Maiden."

Despite his frustration and anger, Bishop Raymond had no choice but to turn around, humbly lower his head, and bow to greet everyone.

With striking, waist-length, wine-red hair, a calm face that seems devoid of emotion, and an inexplicably faint presence, she is Miss Michael, the saintess of Lateran, the godson of His Holiness the Pope, and a Christian named after the legendary archangel.

No one knew her real name, where she came from, who she was before becoming a saint, what she had experienced, or how she gained the Pope's favor. But no one dared to question Miss Michael's authority. During the time the Pope was away, she presided over or attended all the major and minor meetings of the Holy City in Lateran.

These cardinals had long received His Holiness the Pope's decree that during his seclusion, everything should be based on Miss Michael's judgment.

As the meeting of the Cardinals that determined the direction of the Lateran events was naturally chaired by Miss Michael in place of His Holiness the Pope.

The heavy, elaborate robes she wore did nothing to restrict Michael's perfect figure. She strolled up the steps leading to the papal throne, picked up the golden cross scepter resting on a gilded cushion, and held it in her hand. The triple crown, another symbol of papal authority, remained on the cushion. This signified that she was temporarily assuming the papacy's power, but was not the actual pope.

After completing all the ritual procedures, Michael leisurely glanced at the members of the cardinals, his voice, soft and alluring, uttering:

“My lords, sincere prayers are more likely to receive a response from the Lord than loud voices.”

It means you guys are too loud; I could hear you even through the door.

Urbino lowered his head guiltily.

"It wasn't time for the meeting yet, but since you all seem so eager, let's begin now."

Michael said, glancing at Urbino and Raymond, the main figures in their earlier argument.

"The two cardinals seem to have different opinions on Lateran's current policy. Would you mind if I said something?"

“That’s natural.” “It’s only right.” Raymond and Urbino replied simultaneously.

Michael nodded, and then said:

“I tend to agree with Archbishop Urbino’s view. Lateran is not what it used to be. Our decline in strength is obvious to all. At this time, merely hoping to maintain the status quo and stabilize our base is not enough to recover what we have lost.”

"Future history will record that it was in our generation that the flames of heretical reformation were ignited, and that our atrocities destroyed the once beautiful, devout, and just Lateran religious world. I believe none of you want to be engraved on the Gate of Satan as sinners, to be despised by all, right?"

Bishop Raymond clenched his fists, his teeth chattering.

Of course he didn't want to. Having experienced Lateran's glorious era, he was furious even at Urbino's few sarcastic and innocuous remarks and accusations. If he were truly etched into the pillar of shame, wouldn't he be driven to despair and rise from his grave in the future?

"But, Your Highness, if we just give Wei Yanwu so much help for nothing, what if he fails?"

Raymond voiced his concerns.

That's all money! Ten "Venezuelas" worth of money! According to the Cardinals' usual practice of dividing the spoils, Urbino, as the proposer of this plan, would get at least ten percent of it!

That's ten percent! A Crown Prince of the Victorian Empire is worth that much money from Laterano. Now, not only is Wei Yanwu to receive ten times that amount, but Urbino, that annoying newcomer, is also getting one. How could Raymond, who hasn't earned that much money in his entire life, possibly swallow this insult?

But Her Highness's meaning is already clear: she's sided with Urbino, which undoubtedly means the Pope's will. Since it's the Pope's will, what use is there in him saying anything more?

Bishop Raymond sighed helplessly, turning his face away to avoid looking at Urbino's smug smile. Seeing Urbino make money was even more painful than him losing money.

But just when he had given up all hope, unexpectedly, the saintess nodded and said:

“You’re right, Bishop Raymond.”

Urbino's smile froze instantly. The saintess, however, seemed completely oblivious to his change, and continued:

“I also think that rashly investing a large amount of money is like a gambler betting everything. Lateran is weak now, but we are far from being in a life-or-death situation. Bishop Urbino’s words are a bit too extreme.”

Raymond beamed and quickly asked:

"So what do you mean?"

"What I mean is, we can provide the money. But we need someone to oversee this process."

Supervision? Isn't that what a liaison officer means?

Urbino sounds familiar. He was the liaison officer for Lateran's operations in Victoria until he was replaced by Mostima and returned to the Holy City to officially become a cardinal.

I thought Her Highness the Holy Maiden would come up with something new, but it turned out to be just this?

Urbino's heart, which had been hanging in suspense, finally settled. He stood with his hands behind his back, nodding obediently, and said:

"Yes, you are right, Your Highness is wise."

“The funds involved are substantial, so this person’s status must be high,” Michael continued.

Urbino nodded again, "No problem, buddy, you're right."

"Such a large sum of money is also very important to Laterano. Since we want to make a profit, we have to take risks. We need someone with outstanding abilities to do this."

Urbino was delighted. "Outstanding ability? Who is this referring to? Does Lateran even have someone like that? Your Highness, you don't intend to go yourself, do you?"

"Of course I won't go by myself."

A strange voice suddenly flashed through Urbino's mind, and he snapped back to reality, only to find that everyone's eyes were on him.

"Well then, I am very pleased that Bishop Urbino is willing to make such a great contribution to Lateran. Please set off for Lungmen immediately."

"Remember to change out of your red dress."

Michael's lips curled into a slight, almost imperceptible smile as he spoke.

Urbino opened his mouth.

You want me to go to Longmen?

At this time, they're transferring me away from the center of power? Will I ever be able to come back?

"Risk and reward go hand in hand. If you fail to complete the mission, you naturally don't need to come back. Of course, if you do complete it, His Majesty will naturally remember your achievements."

Michael said calmly,

"This is, of course, Your Majesty's intention as well."

Chapter Sixty-One: The atmosphere has reached this point.

Longmen, the bar at the end of the earth.

This bar isn't well-known in Longmen, but it's one of the largest. The reason it's not famous is because of the owner, Emperor's, eccentric and somewhat capricious personality.

They often kick out the bar's customers at the drop of a hat, announcing closing time and booking out the entire place. Their opening hours are unpredictable; sometimes they open as early as 7 or 8 pm, sometimes late at night, and most outrageously, they open very early in the morning, setting up a stall outside selling soy milk, fried dough sticks, and glutinous rice cakes. Oh, and those are croissants from someone who stole the key.

In short, although the bar's drinks, atmosphere, decor, and music are all top-notch, the owners' various ways of operating the business are hardly what one would expect. "The End of the Earth" is likely to become "The End of the Emperor's (Entry into the Bar Industry) End." Apart from Penguin Logistics employees and a few regular customers with special status, practically no one will visit this place.

Today was an exception. A new customer stepped into the bar, which was marked "Closed for the Day," but was brightly lit and filled with laughter inside.

Wayne curiously surveyed the bar, a place that had played a significant role in the storyline of "The Law of Noise," but unfortunately, it had been wrecked by the Sicilians right from the start. He had to admit, the Emperor's taste was top-notch.

In his previous life, Wayne had been to several upscale bars with his classmates, and when he had free time, he also liked to go to teahouses, milk tea shops, bars, and other places to drink alone late at night. But in terms of class and atmosphere, none of them could compare to the End of the Earth.

If we had to rank them, in terms of style, only the sci-fi style of the Rhine Life shareholders' meeting room and the aristocratic style of the Victoria Iron Palace banquet hall could surpass this place.

Of course, different styles have their own merits, and Wayne shouldn't make a direct comparison. Besides, no matter how nice a bar is, how can it possibly be more attractive than a person?

Wayne casually found a sofa to sit on, crossed his legs, and gazed at Mostima, who was sitting on a bar stool in the distance, watching Exusiai playing with Texas, with a gentle smile on her face.

She was looking at the pleasant scenery, and Wayne was also looking at the pleasant scenery.

A few minutes later, seemingly noticing that someone was watching her, Mostima turned her head and looked around. Seeing this, Wayne raised his hand and waved to greet her.

Seeing Wayne, who had arrived sometime earlier and had been sitting on the sofa for an unknown amount of time, Mostima was slightly taken aback, and a blush involuntarily crept onto her face, well concealed by the neon lights. She hesitated for a moment, then jumped off the stool, went around to the bar, grabbed a few bottles of liquor whose names Wayne didn't recognize, skillfully mixed two glasses, and carried them to Wayne's side.

"Give."

Wayne took the glass, clinked it lightly with Mostima, who was sitting next to him as a matter of course, and took a sip.

"Sweet? Isn't it wine?"

"Cider is Xiao Le's favorite flavor. It tastes similar, but it doesn't actually contain alcohol, making it a drink suitable for all ages."

Mostima also took a small sip, looking at the crystal-clear liquid in his glass, and explained.

I said, "How come your technique is so skilled?"

Wayne, who was still wondering when Mostima had acquired the skill of bartending, nodded knowingly. If Exusiai liked to drink, then it wouldn't be surprising that Mostima knew how to do it.

Knowing there was no alcohol, he felt relieved and took a couple more sips, saying:

"It feels a bit off. I thought you were going to make me a cocktail, especially since the atmosphere is like this."

Mostima chuckled softly, leaning against Wayne and resting his head on his shoulder, swirling his wine glass as he spoke:

"Where's the atmosphere? You want me to drink? Are you planning to get me drunk and then do something?"

“No, that’s not it.” Wayne shook his head.

Getting someone drunk and then doing something like that is such a scumbag act. He would never do something that would damage his reputation and character. Besides, Vina and Theresa are coming soon. Wayne was just joking. He rarely drinks in front of Vina; he wants to set a good example and not set a bad example for his sister.

But Mostima got a little excited, tilting his head back to look at Wayne's profile, and said:

"Do you prefer to do it while you're awake?"

"What are you saying!"

Mostima chuckled. While Wayne hadn't drunk any alcohol, she had. Before Wayne arrived, she'd already had several drinks with the Emperor and Texas. After all, tonight was a victory celebration for the mission's completion; even Exusiai had two glasses of real alcohol besides cider.

Fueled by the alcohol, she gently shifted her body, sliding off his shoulder and resting on Wayne's lap, revealing a mesmerizing, enigmatic smile.

Do we need that kind of atmosphere between us?

Seeing that the topic was getting dangerous, Wayne seemed to have guessed something, reached out and touched Mostima's burning cheek, and said helplessly:

Are you drunk?

"I'm not drunk, just two drinks."

Wayne rolled his eyes. Mostima said two drinks, but who knows how many she actually drank? Drunk people always say they're not drunk, and Wayne couldn't tell if Mostima was telling the truth or lying.

But her current boldness must be related to alcohol.

Wayne tried to help Mostima sit up, since lying in that position after drinking could easily make someone vomit, and they wouldn't even have time to react before vomiting could land on them. But Mostima was limp and powerless, clearly indicating that she didn't want to get up.

Wayne had no choice but to reach out and lift her head, at least keeping her in a reclining position, and muttered:

"Didn't you say this afternoon that you weren't Mostima?"

Mostima's gaze drifted elsewhere in a somewhat flustered manner.

There was nothing I could do. I suddenly bumped into Wayne in the afternoon. It was like finding my dad sitting next to me in an internet cafe, or finding my mom at the front desk when I checked into a hotel. She was completely stunned and blurted out some things. When she thought about it later, she wished she could bury her head in the ground.

Now that Wayne is bringing up old grievances, she can only stubbornly reply:

"Who gave you the right to launch a surprise attack? Didn't we agree on a three-year period?"