Chapter 27 Oracle

"Look, look." The second son of the Bateman family took a step back, stood in the backyard of the monastery, unfolded the newspaper, deliberately cleared his throat, and read aloud: "...The newly married wife of the porter who unfortunately died, although she was born into a common family, was a beautiful and famous lady. Let's call her Lady Rose. According to this author's exclusive information, there was a sad and secret story between the nobleman who bravely stood up and Lady Rose... We have reason to believe that Lady Rose once begged the gentleman to save her husband. But it was not until Lady Rose burned herself in the flames of despair and completely disappeared that the heartbroken Mr. Brody finally couldn't suppress the blasphemous love in his heart. With remorse as turbulent as the waves, he vowed to avenge Lady Rose..."

Percy: "..."

Percy: "????!"

He flew into a rage and snatched the newspaper from his old rival's hand. "Nonsense! My brother doesn't even speak to me, so how could he be so 'heartbroken' and 'full of love' for a vulgar country fisherwoman?!"

The black-haired boy read through the extremely erotic and obscene news at a glance, his face flushed with anger. "What newspaper company runs this low-quality tabloid? I swear, he will bear the wrath of the Brody family!"

"Don't, Mr. Brody, you can't represent the Brody family yet." Tran Batman gloated and fanned the flames: "Although the 'Rose Lady' has a dirty bloodline and may even have a fishy smell - it is still a romantic affair after all. If the story spreads to the royal city, those ladies might even shed tears and admire this tragic and taboo love story. Don't ruin your cousin's good fortune, little virgin."

Percy Brody suddenly calmed down.

"Light punishment."

He said this coldly, and chains formed by several rays of light suddenly fell from the sky, smashing countless small holes in the dilapidated floor of the monastery's backyard. Then he raised his chin arrogantly amid the angry shouts of Tran Batman who was fleeing in a panic.

"Mr. Bartman, if you don't have the strength to bear the wrath of Percy Brody," the young, high-ranking apostle warlock who could cast spells without magic tools said coldly, "I advise you to keep your mouth shut in front of me."

For a moment, the expression on that still-grown face was exactly the same as that of his cousin.

"What's going on? This is a monastery. How dare you do such disrespectful things under the gaze of the God of Light?!" The teacher in charge of the Saint Bartholomew Warlock Academy came in a hurry and glared at the two bastards who were about to return and still caused trouble. He wanted to kick each of them in the butt.

Mr. Miller is still here. It’s okay that the second son of the Batman family is a troublemaker, but why is it that Percy Brody, a good student, has also started to act up?

"Mr. Hutton." Percy's face was a little pale. He knew that it was extremely unwise to fight with someone in the monastery, let alone the second son of a marquis. If his father knew, he would definitely scold him severely, and maybe even punish him with a whipping. But he still stubbornly refused to bow his head: "Mr. Baartman brought obscene things into the monastery. He also insulted my family and my brother!"

"You're not your biological brother, and you're not talking as if you're going to take away your cousin's title. Stop pretending to be a good guy here." Batman sneered, covering his shoulder that was scratched by the chain of light. He just couldn't stand this guy pretending in front of adults.

He is obviously a despicable robber, but he still pretends to be superior and full of compassion. It's disgusting.

A faint blush of irritation suddenly appeared on Percy's cheeks: "This is the Brody family's family affair. What does it have to do with you?"

"Enough!" Mr. Shotton roared, unable to bear it any longer. "Gentlemen, I will report your affairs to the abbot truthfully. Now return to your rooms and reflect on yourselves. Do not set foot outside the monastery again until you return!"

The two troublesome students angrily returned to their rooms, their backs full of dissatisfaction. Mr. Hutton glared at a few students who had quietly peeked out to watch the fun, and only when they retreated did he sigh heavily.

"Young man, isn't he?"

A gentle voice sounded from behind him, and Mr. Shuton almost jumped up. When he realized who the other person was, he suddenly wailed in his heart: "My God of Light, Mr. Miller! I am so sorry that you have to see this..."

"Nothing, I've been through this stage too. Maybe they'll quarrel today, but they'll be reconciled tomorrow." There was a smile in the other person's voice. Mr. Shotton couldn't help but sigh at the good temper of the Cardinal. No wonder he was so popular in the church and among believers - although it was unlikely that Mr. Batman and Mr. Brody would "reconcile", as they opened their eyes every morning thinking about how to press each other's heads into horse manure.

"It's a pleasure chatting with you." Bishop Miller nodded kindly at him. "Unfortunately, I still have some church affairs to attend to, so I won't bother you."

Mr. Hutton hastened to make way respectfully. Looking at the cardinal's elegant back as he walked away, he couldn't help but sigh again that this gentleman was truly worthy of the reputation of "Dustless Light".

Not realizing he'd inadvertently gained another fanboy, Bishop Miller returned to his solitary room on the third floor. After locking the door, the almost frozen smile on his face finally faded.

The scepter lit up slightly, and a strange light flowed in the dim little room along with the cardinal's low chanting. The statue of Zephyr, the god of light and glory, sat high on the altar, quietly looking down at all this.

After making sure that no one had intruded after he left, he put away the scepter with satisfaction and began to deal with the documents neatly arranged on the desk.

Time ticked by, and when the first chime from the bell tower signaled the closure of the faithful to prayer, Miller inserted his quill into the inkwell, straightened the papers, stood up, and slowly adjusted his robes. As he finished, the bells stopped, and the crystal ball on the corner of the table shone with a gentle glow.

"May the light last forever."

Pavaton Miller bent down respectfully, and the old and majestic face of His Holiness Mariono Sablic, the current Pope of the Glowing Church of the Silver Iris Empire, appeared in the crystal ball.

"Pavaton, my child, may the light be with you and me." His Holiness the Pope nodded slightly to him. "Tell me what you have discovered."

Miller lowered his eyes respectfully, but spoke bluntly, "I must be frank, Your Majesty. The Abyss is a land unblessed by light. So far, with my mortal eyes, I have seen no one who completely conforms to the oracle, except for fools bewitched by paganism, vicious people with cruel hearts, and naive and ignorant people."

"...Time will soon be running out, child." The Pope sighed deeply. "Pagans are constantly converging towards the end of the world. The deep sea is treacherous, the night is long, love and desire have obscured the eyes of the world, and the oracles left by our God are becoming increasingly unclear."

"...Perhaps there is another person who may be related to the oracle." Miller hesitated for a moment, then suddenly said softly: "It's not that I'm hiding anything from him, but he really..."

"Don't worry, my child," the Pope encouraged. "You are a child deeply favored by the light. How could the eyes of the 'Dustless Light' be blinded by lies and illusions?"

Miller seemed buoyed by the Pope's words. He gripped the scepter tightly, chanting softly. The pale golden radiant stone atop the ornate scepter suddenly shone brightly, and then, with it as the origin, a translucent image was projected into the void. If the professor were here, he would immediately blurt out "3D projector."

"It is he, Your Majesty." Bishop Miller respectfully took a step back so that the Pope could see the man's face clearly.

"He looks... a little bit older than his age?" the Pope questioned gently and tactfully.

"Yes, that's one of the reasons why I have doubts." Miller said calmly, "and the most important point."

"—He's just an ordinary guy."

If one is over seventeen and still an ordinary person, it means that his soul is too weak and he will never be able to resonate with ideas.

…

At the westernmost point of Huiqiao Harbor lies a massive rocky reef known as Luanshiya. The winds there are constantly high and the waves surging, the shimmering white waves crashing against the cliffs enough to stun even a thick-skinned stonefish. Years of erosion have carved a massive "bridge hole" into the solid rock, forming a natural gray bridge from land to sea, hence Huiqiao Harbor's name. The Temple of Poseidon sits at the end of this "bridge." From the temple's terrace, gazing down, one can practically gaze down at the unpredictable, surging ocean beneath one's feet.

Fortunately, Xita is a warrior of a good level, otherwise he would have fainted immediately after falling into the sea.

"What are you going to do?"

Nova tried to get closer to the other person and asked in that guy's ear.

The sound of waves hitting the cliffs was deafening. He doubted that even if he shouted at the top of his lungs, the priests in the Temple of Poseidon would not be alarmed.

The God's Blessed One ensured that no one could hear them talking - but Nova felt that this "no one" included himself.

"Ready to jump?" The other man looked at him innocently, and his voice rang softly and clearly in his ears - those wonderful "little tricks" again.

There was no moon tonight, the sky was pitch black, the only light coming from his companion's blond hair. Nova felt like he was about to be blown away by the fierce sea breeze. He couldn't help but grab the other person's arm and hold him down with all his might, lest he be caught in the arms of the divinely-favored one with extraordinary mobility.

"No, we won't—do we have to talk at the top of our lungs here?"