A dazzling white figure

When Bernard‌‍⁠‍‍‍​⁠‍⁠‍⁠‍‍‌‍​​​‌‍​‍​ was pinned to the ground by the spear just now, some believers had attempted to rescue him. However, as the electricity poured down, none of them managed to avoid it. Instead, the resulting chain reaction electrocuted everyone who was next to him, knocking them to the ground at the same time.

So when all dazzling electric light finally dissipated, the remaining standing individuals were immediately assaulted by the thick, unmistakable smell of charred flesh.

Burnt chunks of flesh were stacked one after another, and some were still twitching.

Even though Cecilia was used to seeing all kinds of gruesome scenes, she felt a wave of nausea rise in her stomach. However, outwardly, she had no other signs except for her slightly pale face.

But the worst had happened—Bernard appeared beyond saving. The only silver lining, as far as Cecilia was concerned, was having Mandala share the responsibility. With him implicated as well, perhaps the Pope wouldn’t kill her.

“YOU—!!!”

Mandala’s eyes burned red with fury as he whipped his head toward Huo Xianfeng. Before he could say anything, though, a faint rustling sound interrupted him.

All eyes turned to Bernard’s pinned figure. The charred clothes were lifted up, and there seemed to be something densely packed wriggling underneath it.

Huo Xianfeng’s expression darkened and he was prepared to finish Bernard off. But Mandala suddenly lunged at the teenager from the side, his gleaming bone claw slicing downward as he roared,

“Cecilia, save him—!!!”

Having pinned Bernard to the ground, Huo Xianfeng was unable to retrieve his weapon to prevent his escape. This left him scrambling to evade Mandala’s ferocious attack.

“Not a chance!”

The teenager’s eyes flashed coldly, and he growled,
“Bright Moon—!”

The silver spear began charging once more, as though ready to repeat its earlier devastation.

But this time, Cecilia flung a massive black scythe that hooked onto the spear. As the powerful electric current surged again, the scythe, entwined with the spear, spun like a falling meteor. It tore through walls and pillars with a thunderous roar before hurtling far away.

Cecilia immediately moved toward Bernard. Before she could get close, the overwhelming stench of charred meat hit her, forcing her to hold her breath. Frowning, she bent down to assess Bernard’s condition. She found that large chunks of his flesh had fallen away, exposing the Holy Stigmata within his body, which was rapidly working to repair him.

Cecilia was surprised and relieved, and let out a quiet sigh.
At least he’s alive.

“Ha… ha…”

Within minutes, Bernard had begun breathing again, though he still couldn’t speak. His mask had fallen off, but his face was unrecognizable. The skin had fused to the mask and peeled off with it, revealing raw, bloody muscle underneath.

Cecilia felt another wave of nausea but she knew better than to move Bernard hastily. Instead, she tapped the chip behind her ear and issued a command:
“Aces! Find the nearest medic immediately—”

“Lady Cecilia, it seems you’re in need of assistance.”

Startled, Cecilia looked up to meet He Zhun’s gaze. Without waiting for her response, he knelt down and swiftly retrieved a scalpel from an inner pocket, efficiently slicing away the charred flesh.

He Zhun had brought anesthetics, of course. His sleeve concealed several doses. But administering anesthesia would render Bernard unconscious, and how could he remember He Zhun afterward if that happened?

“My apologies, Mr. Bernard.”

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Bernard’s agony was indescribable, but he couldn’t utter a single word.

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—They clearly were Mandala’s men.

Don't scrape

Don't copy

Buzz!

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This familiar sensation… Huo Xianfeng’s mind flashed back to the incident in Bright City, when his connection to his mecha had also been blocked. While his link to this cloned body hadn’t been completely severed, it had weakened significantly. For the first time, he found himself unable to control this body with the same seamless precision as before.

Shhhk—

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“Damn it!”

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Don't scrape

That old man was probably going to survive this time.

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No matter what the Illusory God Church was planning, they needed this Huo Chao clone. If he destroyed it, he would ruin their plans. Even if they managed to create another one, it would delay them by at least three months. By then, his people would have fully recovered their strength. At that time, his true form would come in person, ready to take everyone’s heads with his own hands.

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Huo Xianfeng’s left wrist was locked. Mandala was about to secure the other when the seemingly unconscious young man suddenly sprang to life.

Mandala smirked coldly, prepared for resistance, and quickly moved to suppress him. Yet, to his shock, the young man made no attempt to attack or defend himself. Instead, he lunged forward directly, head-on.

Huo Xianfeng’s goal wasn’t to escape—it was to destroy this clone body.

Squelch—!

Mandala’s hooked claw plunged straight into the young man’s heart.

“You…!”

Mandala’s eyes widened in disbelief as blood sprayed across his face. His eyes bulged in shock, and he was momentarily struck dumb. Huo Xianfeng’s body trembled violently from the pain, yet there was no trace of suffering in his expression.

Instead, he was smiling—a maliciously mad smile.

It was as if the one whose heart had been pierced wasn’t him, but Mandala.

“You… who are you…?”

A deep sense of unease and familiarity emanated from the teenager. Though he was supposedly Huo Chao’s clone, he reminded Mandala of the Huo Xianfeng he had encountered in Bright City.

The teenager’s reckless combat style and his smile that seemed like a ferocious beast from the abyss filled Mandala with dread. He suddenly grabbed Huo Xianfeng’s shoulders tightly and his voice trembled as he demanded,
“Who are you? ….Who are you really?”

The absurdity of his own question wasn’t lost on him, nor did it earn an answer. All he heard was the young man’s hoarse, ragged breathing. Yet the gaze Huo Xianfeng returned was filled with unrestrained, murderous intent.

Buzz—!

Mandala felt a chill crawl up his spine, an icy dread that made his teeth chatter.

Just as Huo Xianfeng was about to sever the connection with the clone body, he felt an overwhelming sense of being watched.

His body stiffened as he turned his gaze upward with difficulty.

Through his blood-red blurred vision, an imposing, towering figure in white came into view.

It was the Pope of the Illusory God Church.

Standing nearly three meters tall, his stature defied human proportions.

He wore an intricate white robe and a peculiar crimson-gold crown. His snow-white hair flowed down like a waterfall, reaching almost to his ankles.

White hair and white eyes, even his skin is almost bloodless and pale, making his face look like it has no pupils. These features of extraordinary perfection paired together made him look like an eerie, unsettling, almost absurd beauty.

Huo Xianfeng remembered that face vividly—deeply, unforgettably.

Every person’s appearance had its own unique character, but the Pope had none. His face was neither masculine nor feminine, and every detail of his features had a precision and artificiality that felt as though it were generated by an AI.

The Pope stood at the pinnacle of the Holy Relic White Tower, with such an aloof and cold posture that he seemed like an arrogant deity looking down upon ants.