Before leaving the building, they did some simple tidying up.

Lillian untied the thorns binding the boy's body to the cross and gently embraced the already lifeless body. Pandora, with a stern face, dragged the pope's body from the ground to the base of the cross, then manipulated his still-rigid joints, positioning the pope face down.

Lillian placed the boy's body above the Pope.

Lillian tried to arrange his body in the manner of strangling the pope, but the boy's joints were already stiff. Lillian struggled with his elbow for a few seconds, but seeing that the body remained unmoved, she could only sigh and gently touch the joint.

Lillian whispered, "Please."

The joint gradually softened under her palm. Lillian thanked her and continued arranging the corpse. Once they had finished, they cleaned up any other traces they had left behind, then closed the door slightly and left.

There are still a few places in this city I need to visit.

Only after they had disposed of the bodies and left the city did someone pass by the ajar door. He and his companion laughed, saying that the family was too careless, having kindly come to the door and called out, "Is anyone home?"

There was no response.

He knocked tentatively on the door—

The door slowly opened in front of him.

The first thing that caught his eye was a shocking expanse of red. On the vibrant red carpet, dark red blood lay quietly and randomly. The congealed blood formed streaks of red and black, drawing the visitor's gaze to the person in the center of the hall.

The boy's wrist, positioned above, was covered in red marks. Where bright red blood had once flowed, only faint traces of blood remained. One end of a thorn was embedded in his wrist, separating his skin from his flesh; the other end was also clutched in his hand—

He strangled the old man with vines.

Below him, the old man's face was covered in fresh blood. There was so much blood, so thick, that it blurred his features, leaving only his wide-open eyes staring straight at the visitor.

The old man's neck was only connected to his head by a thin layer of skin.

The visitor's vision went black. He struggled back a few steps, screaming as he fled back to his companion. He didn't need to describe the scene further; his companion could smell the blood in the air.

They left the place, their faces pale.

But many things don't simply cease to exist just because you pretend you can't see them.

Police arrived after hearing about the riot. They dispersed the crowd and arrested several people who were describing the scene. But even if they silenced the voices, those with eyes could still see the truth.

The Pope is dead.

The police only maintained strict control for a few days before ceasing all efforts on the matter under orders from "higher-ups." After all, no matter how much effort is put into a dead person, they are still just a dead person.

The position of the next pope still needs to be filled.

The sky was clear and the clouds were few, the sun was shining brightly. Ai Cao picked up a broom and sat down in the corner of the small garden in the church for a nap.

She hadn't done much in the past few days. The system was initially anxious, urging Ai Cao to inquire about the follow-up to the assassination attempt on the Pope. But Ai Cao just lazily yawned, saying the system was being overly concerned. Frustrated, the system ignored her.

I heard she went to take some kind of "Female Host System Advanced Course".

The mugwort enjoyed several days of peace.

In the past few days, she got to know the nuns in the church through the bishop and even helped clean the church a few times. She now has her own room to sleep in and no longer has to share a room with Pandora.

"Good afternoon." A gentle voice, as warm as sunshine, fell softly.

Ai Cao lazily raised her eyelids: "I thought no one would come here."

She used the broom handle in her arms to push herself up from the small puddle. Ai Cao patted her riding breeches, which were covered in grass clippings, before looking at the person in front of her.

The bishop changed into a pristine white robe and smiled at her, saying, "Yes, only God could find this place." She teased Ai Cao slightly before handing her a piece of paper still smelling of ink.

Ai Cao shrugged and picked up the paper.

This is an obituary.

The front featured a black-and-white photograph of the former pope, with his birth and death dates and some major events recorded below. After sweeping the front, Ai Cao glanced at the empty back and handed it back to the bishop.

The bishop didn't take it. She looked gently at the artemisia and asked, "What are your thoughts?"

Ai Cao yawned: "What ideas do I have?"

The bishop smiled. She then handed Artemisia a rolled-up paper scroll, saying, "Take a look at this."

She didn't take the mugwort. She slowly ruffled her hair and asked, "What do you want to say?"

The bishop pushed the paper further into her hand, insisting, "Look at this."

Ai Cao sighed. She took the paper scroll, glanced at the bishop a couple more times, and then opened it.

After she read the contents, Ai Cao sighed. It was a letter of inquiry, asking the bishop if she would be willing to assist the new pope in handling papal affairs. A photo of the new pope was thoughtfully attached below.

He was a young man who appeared mature beyond his years. His features bore a resemblance to those of the former pope, suggesting a close blood relationship.

Ai Cao sighed again. She felt like she had used up all the sighs she had in the past few days.

Ai Cao said, "Why didn't we kill him... Oh, right, he wasn't in that city at the time."

The bishop smiled and nodded.

Ai Cao stroked her chin and asked, "Should we kill him?"

The bishop smiled gently. She said, “Not for now. But I want them to be able to elect me as their only chancellor.”

Ai Cao shrugged: "I know absolutely nothing about the Vatican." Seeing the bishop still smiling, she had a bad feeling and asked dryly, "You wouldn't... ask me at the very end, would you?"

The bishop smiled and tacitly acknowledged her question.

Artemisia sighed loudly, "Tell me, what do you want me to do?"

The bishop's smile grew even more genuine. She left the small garden with the artemisia and then returned the broom and cleaning duties to the nun.

“We are going to the city,” the bishop said.

Her tone was calm, showing no sign of the tension of leaving this place. Ai Cao followed her through the overlapping corridors, watching her push open the door to a small room filled with weapons.

Helen, who was in the room, heard the door open, glanced at the two of them, and continued rummaging through the box for weapons.

“I will try to win over some people,” the bishop said, “but that’s not enough—I need a grand vision that will allow me to ascend to the papacy.”

Helen interjected, "Shall I burn some more ashes for you?"

The bishop's azure eyes curved upwards without a trace of gloom: "Send down a divine decree...let some die, and I'll save a few more."