“Is it true they were all forged from the Dragonbone of Time and Space?”
“Yes. After I killed it, I skinned and deboned it, then shared the meat. Afterwards, I handed it to a Great Master and asked her to forge this weapon and a set of armor for me.”
Luo Xiya listened, cold sweat streaming down her back, thinking how the great figures of that era were powerful, yet so wild in their actions.
“Hmph. Do you find that improper?”
Ophelia snorted coldly.
“I wouldn’t dare!”
“Then you do find it improper.”
Ophelia grew more annoyed the more she thought about it.
After she awakened, she had treated Luo Xiya as her disciple.
After all, they shared a certain fate, and Luo Xiya’s talent was also quite good.
“What do you think humanity was like back then?”
“At that time, there were no Holy See or Empire—just scattered, chaotic Tribes.”
“Even your revered Goddess Fara was merely a clueless little girl back then. To put it unkindly, she was just a wild kitten, running around all day in nothing but a few leaves.”
Luo Xiya was thoroughly shocked by what she heard.
“In short, since you’ve decided to follow me and learn, you’d better abandon those pointless formalities as soon as possible. The less you’re troubled by such things, the closer you’ll be to the Sanctuary.”
“Yes, senior.”
She sheathed her sword and fastened it at her waist, expressing her agreement while also preparing to leave quickly.
Maintaining her concealed aura, Luo Xiya left the Treasury of the Church.
Under Ophelia’s guidance, she also managed to swipe several truly valuable but overlooked treasures.
“What are you afraid of? Anything left behind by Fara is naturally mine. Even if I wanted to take everything here, there’d be no problem.”
Ophelia said.
Luo Xiya flattered this senior while searching for Roman’s presence.
Where is he…
Although she was fully hidden now, if she used her senses to search carelessly, it would be easy for the Holy Throne to detect her.
Suddenly, she noticed that the Papal Palace was unusually lively today, with maids bustling everywhere as if preparing for an important event.
Luo Xiya was quite familiar with this—they were preparing for a grand banquet.
She spotted bishops and priests in noble white robes passing by.
“Did you hear?”
“Yes. The Holy Throne is holding a banquet for that Holy Child.”
“Just to welcome that child?”
“Who can guess the Holy Throne’s intentions?”
“Hmph, most likely another chance to remind us. After all, if she doesn’t take action to establish authority for that child… Hehe…”
“The Holy Throne is ultimately a person of restraint. Her decision today also proves that Princess Milis is truly the future of the Church—he’s just an accident.”
“Best if that’s so.”
Luo Xiya listened in silence, biting her lip, feeling frustrated.
Clearly, even the Holy Mark of Life couldn’t conceal the fact that Roman’s male identity made him a target of both contempt and wariness within the Holy Light Church—a precarious and dangerous position.
Luo Xiya couldn’t imagine what kind of schemes and plots awaited someone as naive as Roman, thrust into the upper echelons of the Holy Light Church.
Her figure vanished from the spot, continuing her search for Roman.
***
Meanwhile, two figures were slowly approaching from the distance.
The gazes of those around were drawn to their steps.
No wonder—their aura and style were entirely at odds with the solemn sanctity of this place.
A luxurious evening gown trailed to the ankles, its billowing, soft skirt swaying gently in the cold wind.
A slender waist was cinched tight with a belt, perfectly outlining a seductive figure.
Looking up, the woman in the dress had romantic, alluring red curls cascading down her back, her mature and sensual features even more captivating beneath deep, alluring makeup.
Someone recognized her—Maria Stuart, Captain of the Black Knights of the Kingdom of Lensa.
She no longer resembled a Valkyrie of the battlefield, but rather a blooming red rose in the social halls.
And the lady beside her was even more formidable.
“Greetings, Your Excellency Bishop.”
A passing Nun straightened and saluted upon seeing her.
“Heh, what an adorable girl.”
The woman smiled and pinched the Sister’s cheek, making her blush.
As a Bishop of the Church, her behavior was wild and unrestrained.
Not only did she disregard the sanctity of holy robes, she even dared to tease the Sisters, whose bodies and souls had long been devoted to the Goddess.
Those who recognized her immediately feigned indifference and hurried away, fearful of attracting this enchantress’s attention.
She wasn’t a witch in the traditional sense, yet the Church feared her even more—for she had a Pope as her elder sister.
The woman stood beside Maria, but her presence was not overshadowed in the slightest. On the contrary, she seemed to draw even more attention.
She seemed skilled at dressing herself to accentuate her allure.
A tailored, tight-fitting cheongsam adorned with red peonies on white fabric, the lower half modified—slits on both sides reached up to the thighs, revealing shapely, slender legs as she walked in elegant high heels.
The skirt fluttered, offering fleeting glimpses that captivated the gazes of countless innocent Nuns.
Upward, her face was even more striking—violet eyes, silver hair cascading to her shoulders, with a pure black butterfly hairpin on her forehead.
She held an ornate fan, occasionally unfurling it before her face and gently fanning herself, her alluring eyes peering over the edge, daring anyone to meet her gaze.
How could someone like this be a Bishop of the Holy Light Church?
She seemed better suited to be a socialite at an aristocratic gala or an art salon.
“Maria Knight. Bishop Rosalind. Good evening.”
Rosetta appeared before them, hand over her chest.
“Captain Rosetta, it’s been a while~”
Rosalind smiled softly, closing her fan.
“By Fara, Knight Rosetta—long time no see.”
Maria extended a hand in the customary greeting of Knights.
This time, Rosetta was much more serious, taking Maria’s hand with the respectful solemnity of a true Knight.
Rosalind, watching, pouted unhappily.
“Neglecting a lady is hardly the mark of a true Knight, is it?”
Rosetta frowned, silent, gazing at Rosalind’s outstretched fingers.
To date, she had performed a hand-kiss for only two people: the Holy Throne, and Lord Roman.
As for Rosalind, though Rosetta respected her as the Holy Throne’s sister, she simply couldn’t bring herself to do the same.
It was clear this wasn’t the first time Rosetta had refused.
Eventually, Rosalind withdrew her hand.
Just as Rosetta breathed a sigh of relief, Rosalind suddenly flashed a mischievous smile.
“If your Knightly manners can’t be extended to me, then perhaps you can answer a few questions instead?”
“…Go ahead.”
“The child my sister found—does she have long, holy silver hair?”
“Yes.”
Though curious how Rosalind knew—since she’d just returned to the Holy City—Rosetta still answered honestly.
“Do you know… who her mother is?”
Rosalind asked quietly, her voice low and serpentine, as if a hidden viper was hissing.