ITF Chapter116

The door lock finally clicked. Immediately after, the wooden door at the edge of their vision was pushed wide open. Wen Yan sat upright on a wooden chair with his gaze shifted from one face to the other.

“The two of you remind me of two old friends I haven’t seen in a very long time,” he let out a long sigh. “It truly brings back memories.”

This was the first time Luo Congye had met the Pope face-to-face. This Beta had delicate features and a slender build, looking as though he lacked even the strength to truss a chicken. Luo Congye felt he could snap that fragile neck with just one hand.

Yet, his expression was perfectly composed and his posture elegant; not only did he not look like someone placed under house arrest here, but he also even put on the airs of a host.

“Please, have a seat.” Wen Yan said.

Luo Congye walked into the room and told him, “You might as well save those meaningless pleasantries.”

Wen Yan nodded, expressing his agreement with these words.

“You are absolutely right. However, back then, I bitterly begged Pei Ming to help me, yet he refused. I suffered quite a bit because of him, so I won’t help you either.” He frowned slightly, shrugging his shoulders at Luo Congye with an apologetic look. “Only by doing good deeds can one reap good rewards. Whether you are religious or not, you should understand this simple and obvious truth, right?”

The corruption of the Xili Religion was something everyone knew about, so hearing this man speak of doing good deeds and accumulating virtue struck him as especially ridiculous. Luo Congye gave no reply.

Wen Yan glanced at Bai Heting, who was standing behind him, and then looked back, “His father executed your father, yet the two of you can still love each other so deeply. It is truly touching.” He leaned forward slightly and asked curiously, “Pei Ming was fiercely loyal to Bai Yi, but in the end, he wasn’t even able to leave behind a corpse. Aren’t you afraid of following in his footsteps?”

Luo Congye said, “You don’t need to worry about our business.”

“Worry?” Wen Yan smiled while waving his sleeve at him. “Don’t misunderstand. I have absolutely no interest in whether your country lives or dies, and whoever sits on the throne has nothing to do with me. I came to see Shao Cheng.”

Luo Congye pulled over a chair, and only after Bai Heting sat down did he say, “You’re too late.”

He said in a nonchalant tone, “I already had him beheaded two days ago.”

No surprise could be seen on Wen Yan’s face, but his tone and expression darkened simultaneously, “Bring him to see me.”

“He’s dead,” Luo Congye said. “He caused my mother’s death. Letting him live until then was already my limit.”

Wen Yan closed his eyes.

Two days ago—that was the exact time he had arrived at the private residence in the capital.

This young man had never intended to let Shao Cheng meet with him at all.

He raised his voice, repeating his demand to Luo Congye word by word, “I told you to bring him to see me.”

Far removed from the image of a benevolent and gentle Pope, his tone carried an obsessive edge, and his gaze was like a poisoned dagger; steeped in reckless, desperate ruthlessness.

But Luo Congye compromised quite straightforwardly, “Fine.”

He gestured toward the door and took a step to the side.

*

Bai Heting watched the man before him without saying a word.

This was the youngest Pope in the history of the Xili Religion, but no one knew his exact age. It was said that after he ascended to the Holy See, those who knew about his past died one after another from unknown causes.

He watched Wen Yan rise from his chair; his gaze fixed blankly on the square wooden box that had been brought into the room. Then, with a calm demeanor, Wen Yan stepped forward and lifted the lid.

Bai Heting thought he would fly into a rage, but he didn’t. Instead, an expression of joy, like reuniting after a long separation, appeared on Wen Yan’s face.

Standing beside Bai Heting, Luo Congye looked at Wen Yan with a cold gaze and said, “If you’d come any later, there wouldn’t have been any ice left.”

Wen Yan ignored him, merely reaching his hand into the box.

The ice inside the wooden box had already begun to melt. The man’s eyes were closed, and his expression was very peaceful; if not for the skin being frozen as cold as ice, Wen Yan would have felt he was just asleep.

“Back then, Pei Ming obediently confessed to his crimes, and now you obediently come to seek your death,” he sighed, looking at Shao Cheng’s serene sleeping face. “I really don’t understand what use the military is in your hands.”

Luo Congye immediately asked, “What happened back then?”

“Why on earth should I tell you?” Only then did Wen Yan look up to glance at him.

“Placing all the blame for your mother’s death on his head is unreasonable. The location of you and your mother’s residence wasn’t revealed by him.” He lifted Shao Cheng’s head from the box, held it in his arms, and used his fingers to smooth out the hair damped with ice water. “Of course, this wasn’t to protect you two either. I just felt that if Bai Yi found you and your mother and discovered she wasn’t the princess of Ximo at all, it would immediately ruin my plan. But I truly didn’t expect he would directly issue an execution order. He wasn’t even willing to verify your mother’s identity first.” As he spoke, he gestured a few times and let out a soft laugh. “Supposedly, when he found out your mother was really just a commoner, he was furious. Like I said, only by doing good deeds can one reap good rewards.”

Bai Heting raised a hand and grabbed Luo Congye’s arm. If Betas could smell pheromones, Wen Yan would know that this Alpha had already developed a murderous intent. But he didn’t know. He intently gazed at the long-lifeless head in his arms, continuing unhurriedly, “Kid, considering you brought him to me, I can tell you one thing. Pei Ming didn’t abandon you and your mother.”

“What?” Luo Congye was stunned.

Yet, Wen Yan only said that one sentence. After speaking, he immersed himself in his own world again. He took several slow steps around the room before finally stopping at the window. Leaning against it, he pulled a sheet of letters from his pocket.

“See you at the private residence. Spring is cold, dress warmly.” He unfolded the letter and lowered his head to ask the man who seemed to be fast asleep, “Did you write it this way because you were afraid I wouldn’t believe it was in your own handwriting, or out of sincere concern for me?”

The man, naturally, would not answer.

Wen Yan let out a disappointed sigh.

“So tight-lipped in life, and even duller in death.”

He abruptly raised his hand and pushed the window open. A gust of spring wind rushed in instantly, billowing his loose white papal robe. The thin sheet of letter was carried out of the window by the wind with the snow-white page slowly twirling and drifting lightly through the air.

Wen Yan’s hand remained paused mid-air as if touching the invisible atmosphere.

“If it rained, it would be perfect.” He remarked emotionally.

As if seeing through his intentions, Bai Heting immediately stood up and warned, “Doing this will send you to hell.”

This was the first sentence he had spoken since entering the room. Wen Yan turned his head to look at him.

The midday sun poured into the room without obstruction, bathing half of his face in bright sunlight. Bai Heting knew that the devil would never repent, yet he actually saw the devil’s tears.

“Standing high up doesn’t bring you any closer to heaven.” Wen Yan looked back out the window again; outside, the spring scenery was bright and beautiful under a clear, boundless sky. He said faintly, “I have long been in hell.”

Yet a hint of a smile could be heard in his subsequent words, “However, someone as pure and flawless as Shen Yao will definitely go to heaven after death.”

He caressed the face of the person in his arms, sincerely feeling regret on his behalf.

“You’re in for a miserable time,” Wen Yan chuckled softly. “Keep being entangled with me in hell.”

*

The courtyard instantly fell into absolute chaos. As if snapping out of a sleepwalking state, Luo Congye took large strides to chase after him to the window by holding onto the window frame to look down.

Bai Heting walked over slowly. The Pope had come alone; Bai Heting knew he hadn’t prepared to negotiate with anyone, but he hadn’t expected him to be so resolute.

Luo Congye muttered, “What on earth did he mean by those words?”

Bai Heting did not answer. They might never learn the full truth behind Pei Ming being framed.

He was quiet for a moment, then suddenly called out Luo Congye’s name.

He rarely addressed him directly by this name. Luo Congye turned his face to look at him, asking in confusion, “What is it?”

“When I was a child, my mother always refused to give me a name. When I was five years old, Marshal Pei took pity on me and gave me this name,” Bai Heting said. “Luo Congye, this is my name.”

Luo Congye’s eyes suddenly widened.

“He was a man of compassion. Perhaps he was protecting you and your mother in his own way.” Bai Heting kept his head lowered, still looking down at the place in the courtyard where the commotion was happening.

Blood had dyed that holy white papal robe red.

Like an enchanting patch of flowers blooming amidst a pile of white snow.

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