Lucien instinctively covered his chest with his arm, then suddenly looked up at Fan Zhuo, only to find the other man squinting, his face covered in white foam streaming downward, clearly unable to see anything.
A rush of indescribable relief and even stronger shame surged over him instantly.
“You… just you wait!”
He nearly screamed as he threw down those words and fled the bathroom in a near-panicked state, knocking the broken door frame so hard it wobbled three times.
“Bang!”
The other door outside, also kicked in, was slammed shut by him with a final wail.
The entire world finally fell silent.
Fan Zhuo sat in the bathtub with a baffled expression, his head covered in a precarious mountain of foam.
This guy… is he crazy?
A timid voice from beside him pulled Fan Zhuo back from his chaotic thoughts.
He turned his head to see the doll maid still kneeling on the anti-slip mat, hands frozen in the posture of holding foam, her beautiful blue eyes filled with panic and confusion.
Zhuo.
“It’s fine now.” Fan Zhuo sighed, lying back in the tub, “Let’s finish quickly—speed is key.
Otherwise, who knows who might burst in next…”
“Yes, Master.”
White Rabbit quickly responded, cautiously continuing the unfinished task.
But this time, her movements were noticeably faster, as if she wanted to end this nerve-wracking “service” as soon as possible.
After swiftly washing his hair and rinsing off the foam, Fan Zhuo felt as though he had just fought a battle.
When he came out of the bathroom dressed, White Rabbit had thoughtfully prepared a cup of warm water for him.
“Master, your room was seriously damaged. Should I contact the Logistics Department immediately for repairs?” White Rabbit asked softly.
“Fix it.” Fan Zhuo waved his hand weakly, “Both doors need to be replaced.”
“Understood.” White Rabbit bowed slightly, then added with some concern, “Then… your rest tonight, Master…”
“I’m fine.” Fan Zhuo rubbed his brow, “You should go back first. You’ve worked hard today.”
“Okay…” A faint trace of disappointment flickered in White Rabbit’s eyes, but she obediently saluted and turned to leave the room.
***
Not long after, two guards in work uniforms appeared at the door carrying brand-new alloy door panels.
“Master Fan Zhuo, we’re from the Logistics Department, here to replace your door.”
The lead guard wore a look of “We all get it,” his eyes full of respect for Fan Zhuo.
To be kicked twice by the Inquisitor and still be fine, this new assistant definitely has powerful backing!
Fan Zhuo was too tired to explain anything. He sat in a chair, watching the guards expertly dismantle and install the new doors without any emotional ripple.
Just as the new door was about to be installed, a guard suddenly walked over from outside, pulling out a small silk-wrapped object and handing it to Fan Zhuo.
“Master, this… was entrusted to me by Inquisitor Lucien to deliver to you.”
The guard’s expression was odd. “He said… it’s an apology.”
Fan Zhuo was slightly stunned.
An apology?
That guy who kicked down doors without warning would actually apologize?
He took the small package. It felt slightly heavy and cold to the touch.
“Where is he?” Fan Zhuo asked casually.
“The Inquisitor is in his own room; no one else has seen him.” The guard whispered.
“We knocked to check… but there was a lot of noise inside, like something was being smashed…”
Fan Zhuo twitched the corner of his eye.
He waved the guards away, then turned his gaze to the silk package in his hand.
Undoing the tie, a delicate silver bell quietly rested in his palm.
The bell was about the size of a thumb, engraved with intricate and sacred patterns, exquisitely crafted—clearly no ordinary item.
At the top of the bell was a small gem that emitted a soft white glow.
This is… the Holy Bell?
Fan Zhuo’s heart stirred; he recognized it.
This was a magical tool issued by the Holy Papal State to senior clergy members to aid in their Asceticism.
He tried infusing a sliver of holy power into it, then gently shook it.
“Ding-ling—”
A clear, pleasant chime rang out, seeming to cleanse the soul.
Immediately, Fan Zhuo felt the faint holy power in the surrounding air—the kind he usually needed hours of meditation to barely sense—start to gather toward him as if pulled by some invisible force.
His eyes brightened, and he shook it more vigorously.
“Ding-ling ding-ling ding-ling—”
As the bell’s ringing quickened, the invisible suction force gradually strengthened.
Fan Zhuo clearly felt pure streams of energy flowing ceaselessly from all directions, entering his body through breath and skin, converging into the holy power reservoir he had just opened by being promoted to “Cleric.”
This feeling… was incredible!
He recalled the Holy Scriptures’ records of the “Ascetics.”
Across this continent lay countless relics left by ancient “Saints” whose remains had endured for millennia, forming pure crystallizations of holy power that constantly emitted divine energy.
Most clergy’s training was so-called “Asceticism.”
The process was tedious, long, and extremely inefficient.
But the Holy Bell in his hand was like a cheat device…
It acted as a holy power vacuum, forcibly gathering the surrounding energy, boosting his passive absorption efficiency more than tenfold!
Though… it wasn’t originally very high…
Fan Zhuo stopped shaking it and felt the obvious increase inside him, a strange smile forming on his face.
Shake to absorb more… that logic sounds a bit weird.
So… as long as the Holy Bell keeps shaking… the suction force will…
Ahem!
Fan Zhuo forcibly calmed himself.
Although the Holy Bell was useful, it was ultimately just an aid.
Its efficiency completely depended on the ambient holy power concentration.
On this isolated island prison far from the mainland, holy power was thin; even with the Holy Bell’s help, reaching bishop level within a month was nothing but a fantasy.
All it could do was raise his basic cultivation speed from “turtle crawl” to “slow jog.”
To achieve true “super acceleration,” he’d still need those adorable “power banks.”
However… the Holy Bell was more like a perfect cover.
Even if Lucien came again to inspect and found his holy power rising too quickly, he could brush it off by saying, “I have a special gift, and the Holy Bell helps me with my Asceticism.”
Thinking this, Fan Zhuo’s disgust toward the Inquisitor who kicked down two doors diminished quite a bit.
That guy, though hot-tempered and unpleasant, was surprisingly generous.
The value of this Holy Bell probably far exceeded those two broken doors.