They all glanced into the church doors simultaneously.
The Pope stood there, seemingly chatting with a young choir member. His wrinkles, etched with the marks of time, overflowed with youthful vitality and energy. But just two steps away from him were several tall, burly guards, and many others, kept out of the way, watching the Pope with fervent fascination.
Ai Cao looked away and said, "There are too many people here. It might hurt ordinary people."
Moreover, she didn't think the Pope was a good person. Even if she could control the gun in her hand, she couldn't guarantee that the Pope's men wouldn't let these civilians leave.
Helen snorted coldly. She was a little annoyed that her suggestion had been rejected, but she also knew it wasn't worth it to fall out with Ai Cao here.
Lillian chimed in to smooth things over: "Shall we go and wait for the Pope at his secret rendezvous place?"
Helen nodded reluctantly. They left the church in silence, trudging through the snow-covered streets. Some streets had already been cleared of snow, and gleaming carriages passed by.
By the time they reached the building marked by the bishop, the snow and ash had just settled. Sunlight pierced through the gray clouds and gently bathed the land.
Ai Cao raised her hand to shield her eyes from the sunlight, squinting at the building in front of her. The building had two floors, but there were no signs explaining its purpose, nor any exposed decorations. It looked like just an ordinary building.
If the bishop hadn't clearly marked the building, Ai Cao would never have imagined that the Pope would be having a secret rendezvous with his lover here.
Helen glanced at the building. Her red eyes narrowed slightly, but her voice remained calm: "There are so many wronged souls in this building."
Lillian glanced quickly at the building, then lowered her eyelashes. She sobbed softly, wiped the tears from her face, and then looked up at Artemisia and said, "There's a child crying here."
Artemisia looked blankly at the building, then at Lillian. Although she could only hear the wind rushing through the street, that didn't stop her from believing Lillian's words.
Artemisia thought for a moment and asked, "Is it a living child crying, or a dead child crying?"
Lillian wiped away her tears again and said, "...They are already dead."
Pandora, standing to the side, placed her hand on the riding crop, her head bowed, seemingly lost in thought.
Ai Cao asked, "Shall we go inside and wait for the Pope?"
Lillian sniffed and said okay.
There was no one around, and no special plan was needed. Helen, frowning, walked at the front, followed by Lillian, with Pandora and Artemisia bringing up the rear.
A red light flashed in Helen's eyes, and she gently pushed open the building's door.
Before her stood the lobby of the building's ground floor. The lobby floor was covered with a beautiful red velvet carpet, and at the back of the lobby was a spiral staircase with smooth wooden handrails. Her gaze finally settled on the slender young man in the center of the lobby.
Helen hesitated for a moment, then turned around and covered Lillian's eyes, saying, "You can't look at this yet."
Ai Cao quickened her pace. She also saw the scene in the hall—the boy was draped in a red blanket soaked with his own blood. The once soft fleece of the blanket was now clumped together in strands, wet with blood.
His body was suspended from the cross. His hands and legs were covered in scabs, but the thorns wrapped around the cross pierced the scabs, forcing more blood to gush from his body.
Only Lillian, whose eyes were covered, cried out.
She didn't struggle, but simply let Helen cover her eyes. Large tears slid down Helen's fingers.
Artemisia sighed, patted Lillian's head, and discussed with Helen, "Why don't we put our hands down?"
Helen looked at her calmly: "This will cause psychological trauma to the child."
Ai Cao wanted to discuss it further, but then Helen glanced at her and asked Lillian, "Lillian, you already know what's in front of you, do you still want to see?"
Lillian nodded, sobbing. She sniffled and grasped Helen's hand that was covering her eyes, pressing Helen's hand down.
Her pale blue eyes were filled with sorrow. She slowly walked up to the boy, gently tidied his disheveled hair, then reached out and smeared some of his blood on his forehead.
She closed her eyes.
Lillian's long hair moved on its own even without wind.
The door was pushed open. A pungent smell of alcohol, mixed with a foul odor, flooded the hall. The instant the old man stepped inside, Pandora lashed out with her whip, binding his limbs securely together.
The old man raised his cloudy eyes, which were covered by wrinkles.
“You… hiccup,” he said slowly, “who are you?”
This elderly man, heavily intoxicated, was completely unlike the pope they had seen that morning. Aside from the fact that they were all adorned with gold and jewels and their faces were identical, no one could discern any trace of his faith in him.
Lillian turned her face. She suddenly opened her eyes, her bloodshot eyes fixed on the old man. She rushed to the old man like a gust of wind and pressed her fingers, which had just been smeared with the boy's blood, onto the old man's forehead.
The old man's contemptuous smile faltered. He spoke again, but his voice gradually became stiff.
"Wh...what...I...save me..." he stammered, his pupils gradually dilating. He seemed to want to shout, but his body was no longer under his control, heading towards the final chapter of a symphony destined for death.
The old man collapsed onto the carpet.
The blood-stained carpet was damp and dull, absorbing the heat from his body.
He said, "Lord."
He only remembered his Lord on his deathbed. The Gospel, which he had once held in his hands and studied, and which had later become a tool for his ascent, fell from his arms.
The old man's eyes turned to the book. As he had vowed in his youth, he would always keep his eyes on the Gospel of his Lord.
His eyes could no longer be closed.
Lillian gasped for breath. Her shoulders heaved—she raised her hand to wipe away the fresh tears from the corner of her eye, her voice a little hoarse: “He…the boy has been reincarnated.” She took a deep breath and continued, “I couldn’t control myself just now, I’m sorry.”
Ai Cao smiled and ruffled her hair, saying, "What's the big deal? As long as the Pope is dead."
Helen crossed her arms and asked, "Do you also want to perform a ritual to help the other wronged souls here find peace?"
Lillian shook her head: "There are too many wronged souls here. Let's do something else first... but I want to take them away from this place."
She took off the pendant from her neck and whispered a witch's incantation.
The exquisitely carved city and cup-shaped decorations on the pendant gleamed.
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