However, judging by Old John’s attitude, did he not know that the one in Area A had already grasped evidence against him?
Or was he simply looking for someone to consult with on how to confront the charges together and discuss countermeasures?
“What kind of person… is that lord, really?” Fan Zhuo asked seemingly offhandedly, “Why don’t you mention her name directly?”
Old John paused in his steps, glanced back at Fan Zhuo, his gaze complicated.
“She is a… very frightening woman. As for her name… it can’t be spoken lightly….”
He seemed to be weighing his words, “Powerful, beautiful, but also… extremely dangerous. I advise you, when you meet her later, speak less, bow your head more, answer only what is asked, and absolutely don’t try your little tricks.”
“Her eyes can see through everything… Even if you say her name out loud, you’ll be watched…”
She can see through everything?
Mind reading?!
Old John’s words made Fan Zhuo’s heart sink even further.
How was he supposed to play this now? Wouldn’t his identity as a transmigrator be exposed on the spot?
But soon, he thought of another problem.
Since Old John referred to her as the “Moving Sun,” that was enough to prove the “Holy Light” she radiated had reached some enormous level.
But he himself couldn’t see the Holy Light.
By then, the thoughts in his head…
Fan Zhuo gulped hard.
The situation was worse than he expected.
Now, even if she didn’t have actual evidence of his crimes, just the stray thoughts in his mind would be seen through by her.
The two walked the final stretch of stairs in silence, and the scene ahead suddenly opened up before them.
A huge circular platform appeared, and at the end stood a giant door, ten meters high, composed entirely of pure white light.
Before the door, a familiar figure stood with his back to them, standing silently.
It was Lucien de Valois.
He had already been waiting there, and only when he heard footsteps did he slowly turn around.
Today, he was still dressed in that form-fitting white Inquisitor’s uniform, his manner elegant, so beautiful it almost seemed unreal.
Only, his face didn’t look good.
Clearly, having guarded Area B all night and found nothing had left him in quite a foul mood.
And the two Holy Knights assigned to guard him had not come either; it seemed they were still investigating in Area B.
When his gaze landed on Fan Zhuo, the displeasure instantly shifted to open scrutiny.
He had always been like this toward Fan Zhuo; after all, in the eyes of the Valois family, someone who had been “exiled” like him was rather suspicious.
And his holy power was not pure.
“You don’t look… well-rested.” Lucien’s voice was cold, carrying a subtle… hint of probing?
“Area C seemed quite lively while I was away last night?”
“Only engaged in devout prayer, contemplating the Holy Light, and a bit weary from it,” Fan Zhuo bowed slightly, humble in posture but neither servile nor overbearing in tone.
Old John watched from the side, grinning wryly.
These two, why do they seem like arch-enemies every time they meet…
Lucien snorted coldly and said no more. But his sharp eyes scanned Fan Zhuo up and down like searchlights.
Just last night, Fan Zhuo had “dual cultivated” with Ye Ying; the aura blending holiness and seductive charm still hadn’t faded from him.
Not to mention, inside him a brand new lake of holy power had formed, as well as a newly born Sakura Tree…
Ordinary people might not notice, but in front of someone as powerful as Lucien, it was as obvious as a firefly in the dark.
Lucien’s brows furrowed tighter and tighter.
This aura… what was going on?
The aura around Fan Zhuo had changed.
It was no longer the somewhat impure, mixed holy power from before, but now carried an… “unclean” feeling that was both familiar and repugnant to him—and quite intense.
“Bzzzz—”
Just as Lucien was about to question him, the ten-meter-tall gate of light suddenly let out a deep hum and slowly opened to both sides.
The world beyond the door finally revealed itself to them.
Beyond the light gate was not, as Fan Zhuo had imagined, the image of a heavily guarded prison.
Instead, it was an incredibly wide and spotlessly clean Pure White Corridor.
Walls, floor, and ceiling were all formed from some unknown white alloy, glowing with a gentle luster, seamlessly connected without a single visible joint.
On either side of the corridor, at regular intervals, embedded crystals glowed with soft white light, illuminating the entire space as bright as day, yet without any harshness.
The air was filled with holy power so dense and pure it almost felt tangible; every breath felt like inhaling pure light.
This didn’t feel like a prison at all, but more like a futuristic temple.
“Let’s go.” Old John’s voice was a bit tense as he took the lead and stepped inside, his footsteps echoing crisply in the vast corridor.
Lucien adjusted his collar and followed, his scrutinizing gaze finally leaving Fan Zhuo, as if preoccupied with other matters.
Fan Zhuo took a deep breath and stepped into this world of pure white.
The moment he entered the corridor, it felt like he’d been thrown into a massive furnace of holy power.
The holy power around him was no longer an invisible wall, but rather had turned into a pressurized liquid, enveloping him, scrutinizing him, trying to penetrate every corner of his body.
The lake of holy power within him, under this immense external pressure, actually began to circulate on its own, slowly forming a faint barrier to keep out the overwhelming holy power.
This let Fan Zhuo breathe a little easier.
It seemed his own strength was not completely suppressed by the other side.
The corridor was very long, as if it had no end.
The footsteps of the three echoed in the utter silence, the atmosphere so heavy it was suffocating.
Fine beads of sweat had already formed on Old John’s forehead; his body, long marinated in alcohol, was clearly unable to bear such a pure environment.
Lucien didn’t look much better; his lips were tightly pressed as if he were resisting some invisible pressure.
Fan Zhuo found it odd. He was an Inquisitor; in such a holy-power-rich environment, shouldn’t he feel like he was home? What was he resisting?
But soon, he discovered that the holy power around them, brimming with judgment, seemed to sense something; when it neared Lucien, it grew thinner, lessening his pressure.
Only Fan Zhuo, after the initial discomfort, quickly adapted to the environment.
The lake of holy power within him became even more active in its contest with the outside power, even giving him an almost… “like a fish in water” sensation.
Finally, at the end of the corridor, a double door made of the same white alloy appeared.
In front of the doors stood two automaton maids, similar in build to White Rabbit, but with a completely different aura.
They wore sleek, form-fitting black uniform suits, their long silver hair tightly coiled at the back of their heads, their eyes cold, faces utterly expressionless.
Beneath the black uniforms, their long legs were clad in pure black garter stockings.
Unlike White Rabbit’s style, which featured lace trim, their stockings had no extra adornment—only the skin-tight lines, exuding a kind of austere yet deadly allure.
Fan Zhuo’s gaze uncontrollably lingered for a moment on those gartered legs.
So… White Rabbit’s tastes were learned from her “elder sisters,” huh…
This damn family legacy.
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