ITF Chapter114

Shao Cheng took his cloak but gave no response.

He quickly received confirmation that what the cleric had said was not a lie. The Marshal was making plans to downsize the standing army, and the first to bear the brunt would be the heavy cavalry under his command.

This reality was like a blow to the head. Born into a declined, lesser noble family, he was not yet twenty when he first followed Pei Ming. Unlike those officers from privileged backgrounds, he had no family backing and had walked this path as if treading on thin ice. Yet, he never expected to see the end of it so soon.

That was not the only thing troubling him.

The cleric’s face kept flashing through his mind.

The cleric had shown no surprise at his rejection, no anger, and no sadness whatsoever. He merely stared blankly with his hollow, lifeless eyes straight at the rough and dilapidated wooden wall ahead.

Shao Cheng inquired about his identity privately. It wasn’t difficult; the few clerics he knew all knew about a miserable wretch who had offended Marshal Pei. A week later, he paid a secret visit to the monastery where Wen Yan worked. However, he was unable to see Wen Yan himself that day. An elderly priest received him and said that Wen Yan was not at the monastery today.

The following evening, he went again. This time, he was received by a young man who told him to return tomorrow during the day.

The young man’s demeanor was clearly not as relaxed and natural as the elder’s.

When the last gleam of the setting sun disappears, the gates of hell will open.

Shao Cheng looked up at the slowly falling curtain of night, recalling that cryptic phrase.

*

Wen Yan had stopped praying many years ago.

He had long recognized a reality: no matter how sincerely he prayed, the Lord would never descend before him.

The only one who could save him was himself.

He had already summarized some experience on how to suffer less—most of them like obedience; as long as he didn’t cry or scream, the other party would quickly lose interest in torturing him. But occasionally, he would encounter those with eccentric tempers who would intensify the violence simply because he was too boring.

This Earl’s temper wasn’t actually that terrible, but what made him lose interest tonight was clearly not Wen Yan’s numbness, but the sudden commotion outside the door.

Wen Yan couldn’t see anything, he knew that anomalies were bad. For someone like him, anomalies always signified that bad things were coming. The commotion outside dragged on for some time before someone entered and leaned close to murmuring a few words into the Earl’s ear. Once these words were spoken, the Earl actually put on his clothes and left. After another moment, Wen Yan heard the door being pushed open again, then closed. He wanted to shield his body, but his hands were still tied to the headboard, so he could only curl up his legs.

“Who is it?” His voice was too tense, sounding a bit strange.

“I didn’t do anything.” He explained to the newcomer in a rush.

The person did not speak.

His silence only made Wen Yan more anxious; his breathing quickened, and the pounding of his heart grew so loud it nearly drowned out the sound of the approaching footsteps.

But the doom he had been expecting never arrived.

The person finally stopped by the bed and draped a cloak over his body.

*

The room was lit only by a single slender candle on the verge of burning out. Though the black cloth over his face had been removed, his eyes still struggled to adjust to the dim glow. Wen Yan closed his eyes to recover for a moment, and when he opened them again, he was completely stunned.

Shao Cheng drew a short sword from his waist, cut the hemp rope binding his hands, and then pressed the blade against the side of his neck, ordering him to look up.

Wen Yan obediently raised his head.

The hemp rope tied around his neck was also cut.

The chaotic and complex Alpha pheromones in the air irritated Shao Cheng. This room was even darker and more cramped than a solitary cell in the Marshal’s Mansion. He wanted to open a window to catch his breath, only to find that the entire room had only one small window positioned extremely high up.

It looked like it was sealed shut.

He looked back.

The candlelight wavered gently, casting a flickering glow over the young cleric’s bewildered expression, while a faint sheen of moisture shimmered in his eyes. Shao Cheng had just noticed several fresh bruises that had appeared on his body, and there was even an unhealed brand mark on his thigh. He did not want to guess what the cleric had gone through, so he simply said to him crisply, “Get up, I’m taking you out.”

As if waking from a dream, Wen Yan supported himself with his palms against the bed board and slowly sat up.

“Trying to take a cleric away from the Church? You certainly have a talent for jokes.” He raised a hand to wipe his face, his expression and tone regaining their composure. “Don’t worry, they won’t kill me. Anyone who kills me will go to hell.”

Shao Cheng looked at the bloody marks left by the rope around his neck and said nothing.

Committing such evil acts was already enough to go to hell.

Wen Yan stopped paying attention to him, stepped out of bed stark naked, and was immediately covered over the head by a flying cloak.

“Put it on.” Shao Cheng said with his back turned to him.

Wen Yan hesitated for a brief moment, then reluctantly put on the cloak.

“Trespassing into a forbidden area at night is an unforgivable sin of sacrilege.” He picked up a small wine bottle from the side table, poured the liquid into his palm, smeared it over the wound on his neck, and then poured a little onto his chafed wrists, deftly performing a simple cleaning of his injuries. “The Bishop will definitely demand an explanation from the Marshal tomorrow. How do you plan to explain it to him?”

Shao Cheng rubbed his face hard.

He did not know how to answer this question. Tonight he had been too impulsive, and things had completely spiralled out of his control.

“I really don’t know what kind of hero you’re trying to play. With you making a scene like this, my days here will only become harder.” Wen Yan looked back at him; his tone laced with heavy irony. “I wear priestly robes, but in reality, I am just a prostitute who cannot even collect his pay. Unlike you noble lords who were born with silver spoons in your mouths, for someone like me, there has never been an easy path underfoot. Go back, I do not need your useless sympathy.”

Shao Cheng stood rooted to the spot without moving, while Wen Yan pulled the door open directly.

“Get out.” He urged.

“How do you need me to help you?”

Shao Cheng did not move his feet, but he closed his eyes. He heard the door that had just been pulled open being slowly closed again.

Wen Yan lingered at the doorway for a moment, then leisurely walked up behind him.

“The Bishop promised me that as long as I could help secure the indulgence proposal, he would immediately pass my promotion assessment and send me to serve in the southern diocese.”

He did not spell it out explicitly. To be precise, by then, he would become the youngest bishop in the Church.

Lowering his voice slightly, he continued, “If I can achieve such great merit, I think he will definitely pretend to know nothing about this insignificant little interlude today.”

Shao Cheng reminded him, “The Marshal will not agree to you issuing indulgences.”

Wen Yan smiled indifferently, “Then make his opinion unimportant.”

“Impossible.” This was simply a fantastical whim, Shao Cheng said. “You probably do not understand the Marshal’s status in His Majesty’s heart. The two of them grew up together and fought side by side on the battlefield. His Majesty treats him like a brother, and even the Queen has to defer to him a little.”

Wen Yan did not refute these words, merely saying flatly, “It seems this brotherly bond needs to undergo a little test bestowed by the Lord.”

The candle flame was about to extinguish, and the room flickered between light and dark. A hand reached out from behind and rested on Shao Cheng’s shoulder.

Like a dodder flower choosing its favored host, it extended its slender yet resilient vines, rapidly climbing and clinging upward. Shao Cheng kept his head bowing, feeling as though he were tightly bound by countless vines, each one constricting him until even breathing became somewhat difficult.

“Trust me,” Wen Yan stood on his tiptoes, leaning close to his ear and whispering softly, “I told you, I can give you wealth and status. As long as you listen to me.”

But he had not said it this way before.

Shao Cheng said in a low voice, “I can give you nothing.”

Wen Yan said nothing, only resting his forehead against the back of Shao Cheng’s shoulder and letting out a soft laugh.

“Right.” He seemed entirely unconcerned by this, abruptly changing the subject. “You said that day that Pei Ming hates losing control the most. Why?”

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