Chapter Seventy-Nine: The Speaker of the Dark Council

Leng Bingyan gave a wry smile—the Church’s people were clever, but did they really think they could catch him? The answer was a resounding no. Tossing the Divine Dragon Cauldron into a rift in space, he casually cast a teleportation spell, and his figure vanished from the great hall.

The entire Church was in upheaval. The Pope was furious…

A holy relic had been stolen—what a grave matter! There were few holy relics in the world, and even the Church regarded them as treasures. Now, just like that, one had been stolen. And the thief had infiltrated the heart of the Church’s headquarters. What did this mean? That even with so many powerful defenders, someone could come and go as they pleased. It was a stinging slap in the face for the Church.

“Useless fools! Worthless!” the aged Pope roared, the pressure he naturally radiated causing the guards below to shudder uncontrollably.

“What were you all doing, letting an enemy break into the Church’s most secret place?” He had not yet finished venting his anger, and continued to scold them: “Do you even know what has been lost? A holy relic! How many holy relics does the Church possess in total?!”

“Your Holiness, in fact, we are not entirely without clues,” Hesed spoke up from the side.

“Oh? What clues?” The Pope, accustomed to authority, quickly regained his composure and asked calmly.

“The man was a Western Guardian, from distant Britannia…” Hesed had just begun when the Pope interrupted, “You mean King Arthur?”

“Exactly!” Hesed nodded. “A similar incident has occurred in distant Britannia. There must be a connection between the two. If we invite Arthur here and have him recount the events, we may uncover the key to the matter.”

“Is that so?” The Pope pondered for a moment. “Hesed, I leave this matter to you. Do not disappoint me. The Lord will shine upon you.”

Hesed bowed in acknowledgment and then withdrew from the hall.

“Lanomans, do you think we can obtain useful information from Arthur?” After Hesed left, the Pope turned to Lanomans.

“Your Holiness, I do not know about such matters. But I do know that the Lord always stands with us.”

The Pope regarded Lanomans closely, then spoke with deep meaning: “Your loyalty to the Lord has always been seen. To set aside worldly prejudice is indeed rare and precious. Strive on—our Church will change.”

The Pope’s words sent Lanomans’ heart pounding, a storm raging in his chest. Did the Pope know what he was doing in secret? Judging by his tone, it seemed so, but apparently, he approved.

It was as if new blood had been infused into him. With the Pope’s tacit blessing, he was suddenly filled with passion and an urge to prove himself.

After the Pope gave instructions about the aftermath of the relic’s theft, he dismissed everyone. The urgent task now was to search for the thief. He was likely still in Vatican City—or, at the widest, had not yet left Italy.

Just as they expected, Leng Bingyan had not left. It was a rare opportunity to visit Vatican City, the world’s famed religious sanctuary. Would it not be a shame to leave without a thorough exploration? With the matter of the Divine Dragon Cauldron settled, Leng Bingyan finally allowed himself to relax.

The next morning, Leng Bingyan began his journey of discovery around Vatican City. In Latin, “Vatican” means “the land of prophecy.” Here, political and spiritual power were intertwined, and the Pope reigned supreme, the soul of the entire feudal theocracy—a role not unlike that of an emperor in the East.

Vatican City is essentially a “country within a country” situated within Italy. Unlike any other nation, it has no fields, no agriculture, no industry, and no mineral resources. There is no industrial or agricultural production, and no army to speak of—only a small force of guards responsible for national security, the Pope’s safety, and participation in religious ceremonies.

But the reality is more complex. One cannot judge by appearances alone. Vatican City may be small in territory and population, but “though a sparrow is small, it possesses all its vital organs.” The Vatican has its own complete set of institutions and departments.

The Pope’s advisory body is the College of Cardinals, composed of ten cardinal archbishops, supported by numerous white-robed bishops (the religious leaders of national-level regions)—together, they form the Church’s leadership. As for martial force, though the Vatican lacks a standing army, it boasts the Silver-armored Warriors—elite squads of religious guards; the Holy Order of Knights; and, even more secretive and formidable, the Penitents. Added to this are countless devotees. If the definition were broadened, even King Arthur himself could be considered an asset of the Church.

If the Church so wished, it could rally a force of a million with formidable combat power. This alone shows the Church’s true strength.

From this, it is also clear that the Dark Council, which stands as the Church’s rival, must be formidable indeed.

On the bustling streets, devout worshippers mingled, some dressed in garb out of step with the times. The golden-armored Holy Knights and the silver-armored warriors would not easily reveal themselves in public, but robed followers could be seen here and there.

Today, especially, the streets were teeming with Church followers—perhaps because Leng Bingyan had stolen the Divine Dragon Cauldron the night before. Normally, Church members rarely ventured out, but now they flooded the streets, glancing about warily. Leng Bingyan needed no explanation to know they were searching for suspicious individuals.

The more suspicious one seemed, the more necessary it was to act utterly ordinary, to appear completely nonchalant. That was exactly what Leng Bingyan did. At that moment, he let out a cry of admiration—not too loud, yet not soft—immediately drawing the attention of the already highly alert Church personnel nearby.

When they saw the source was only a boy of fifteen or sixteen, they laughed at themselves for being so jumpy. They had thought it was someone suspicious—but who would ever imagine that this harmless boy was the very person they were looking for?

Click! At some point, a digital camera appeared in Leng Bingyan’s hand. He wore a bright smile—the innocent joy of youth—as he clicked away, taking photos.

Before the Church members could react, Leng Bingyan dashed up to them, catching a passerby: “Could you please take a photo for us? Thank you!”

His request was so sincere that the passerby could not refuse. With a hearty smile, the man took the camera and adjusted it. Leng Bingyan quickly sidled up to a few robed Church members, clutching their robes, face close, and whispered to himself, “Cheese!”

Click—a sweet smile, and several awkward, forced grins were captured forever in the camera.

“Thank you!” Leng Bingyan called to the passerby, who waved and replied, “At your service,” before walking away. Leng Bingyan then turned to the robed Church members: “Thank you, too!”

“No need to thank us; helping others is the duty entrusted to us by the Lord. We are the Lord’s most faithful servants,” one of them answered with pride.

Leng Bingyan chuckled inwardly—being a servant seems to suit you well—then bid them a warm farewell and continued his Vatican tour. In truth, coming to Vatican City had been fruitful: not only had he acquired the Number Seven Bixie Cauldron, but he’d also explored the heart of the world’s great religions.

Night fell once again. The day had flown by. Leng Bingyan walked with a light and joyful step—what a wonderful day! He’d played a few tricks on the Church followers and they were none the wiser.

※※※Feather※※※Emperor※※※

A mysterious night, tinged with enchantment. Blossoms in endless profusion, filled with wistful memories. Infinite gentleness unfolding, giving the world a breathtaking wonder.

At this hour, Luthes led the vampire contingent to the residence of Nagaz, the current chairman of the Dark Council. This time, Luthes was accompanied by the elite of the bloodline: thirteen vampires of emperor rank, and twenty-six princes—though not all had come. Even so, such strength was terrifying within the halls of the Dark Council.

Nagaz’s residence reflected a dark sorcerer’s tastes: they preferred the shadows, so his home was nestled in a valley where sunlight rarely reached—barely six hours of daylight a day. Nagaz was quite content with his abode. Today, it welcomed some visitors—or rather, several dozen.

Clad in black robes, Nagaz stepped out of his ancient wooden house—yes, a house of wood, and a vast one at that. When he saw the approaching clan leader of the Smith Independent Clan and several other bloodline chieftains, a smile appeared on his face. “Old Smith, you look younger every year—how is that?”

Nagaz maintained good relations with many council members. After greeting Smith, he greeted the other chieftains as well. Only then did he notice the many powerful vampires behind them. “What’s this?” Nagaz asked, puzzled.

Smith gave a mild smile. “Mr. Nagaz, these are our finest vampires. Our bloodline is not what it once was—see, our champions now all possess power comparable to my own in the past!”

At Smith’s words, Nagaz looked closer—and was shocked. These vampires all possessed strength nearly equal to his own. One among them he could not read at all; even Smith and the other chieftains’ strength was now shrouded from him. “What’s going on?” Nagaz felt on the verge of madness. “How did your bloodline suddenly produce so many champions? With such power—my Satanic Lord!—it’s unbelievable. I’d think I was dreaming, if not for this.”

“No, it’s all real,” Smith said, watching Nagaz’s astonishment. “My loyal friend, our bloodline has been blessed by a goddess. It is she who has transformed us.”

“A goddess? I thought you worshipped your progenitor Cain and the demon lord Satan. Where did a goddess come from? Don’t tell me your ancestor Cain was a woman all along?” Nagaz joked, his black robe fluttering in the wind.

“Of course not, my friend. The progenitor is the progenitor; the goddess is the goddess—how could they be confused?” Seeing Nagaz’s doubt, Smith continued, “Now our entire bloodline serves the goddess. She is our mistress, the one who saved our kind from decline.”

“And I am no longer the clan leader of the Smith Independent Clan—I am merely its steward. Our entire bloodline, including my clan, now has but one leader: the first golden emperor in our history, the vampire closest to our progenitor Cain!”

Smith’s words left Nagaz reeling. What had he said? Did he mean the bloodlines were united again, more so than before? Judging by their current strength, the bloodline truly was transformed.

Nagaz was a loyal and honest man, lacking the ambition to found or maintain a dynasty—traits rooted in his character, making him ill-suited for leadership. But that did not mean he was a fool. With the vampires’ sudden surge in power and their arrival at his home, he quickly grasped the implication.

“Tell me, my friend—what is it your bloodline intends?” Calming himself, Nagaz asked steadily.