How Much Do I Resemble the Holy Polant Pope?

The central square of Blood Moon City. "Could it be that you're just discarded failures?" Lanqi asked in all sincerity. Rasheal hadn't seemed to hear him clearly just now and had told him to ask again, so ask he did. "Landry, you're courting death!" Rasheal shrieked at the top of his lungs. His upturned palm commanded the crimson mist as countless deep-red tendrils surged forth like vipers, sweeping toward Lanqi to plunge this reckless mortal into an inescapable crimson abyss! "Why are you so angry?" Enveloped in the sea of flames and serpent-like blood, the figure in the dark-gray coat neither dodged nor flinched. He showed none of the panic Rasheal had expected from someone facing impending doom; instead, he merely stroked his right cheek and sighed. Beyond the faint, understated hum of mana radiating from him, the moment every attack around him was repelled, the surrounding air seemed to freeze. Profound light condensed into thousands upon thousands of pitch-black stars dancing throughout Blood Moon City, resembling living entities of magical energy that struck straight at the eyes and invaded the mind. Weak creatures lacking sufficient mental fortitude, upon facing this soul-piercing halo for the first time, might instantly undergo a vast journey transcending flesh and time—eventually falling utterly blank, collapsing to their knees, or even weeping uncontrollably. The swirling glyphs belonged to no known era; only someone who had witnessed the relics of the Divine Age would understand their significance: This was the very majesty radiated when the Slate of Sealing bestowed its blessing. "The Slate of... Sealing?" At the sight of the Original Slate's radiance, Rasheal briefly paused his assault. According to intel from Decay Cardinal Farmer, the new holder of the Slate of Sealing was the new cardinal who had replaced Bishop of Extinction Askesan in the Northern Continent. If Landry was indeed the Cardinal of Mad Love, then his association with both the Bishop of Domination and the Cardinal of Dimensions made complete sense. "Indeed. This time, I have gained new power," Lanqi murmured pensively, as though talking to himself. "..." Listening within Lanqi's mind, Talia hesitated, words catching in her throat. To Rasheal, what Lanqi just said might sound like an enigmatic riddle, but she could tell Lanqi was already starting to cook up his nonsense. That very morning, she had once again merged with Lanqi, turning back into the Demon King of Mad Love and regaining all the traits of the Poet of Great Love. She hid inside Lanqi's soul space and possessed him. Lanqi, now tier-7, possessed by her, essentially attained tier-8 power. This conserved far more mana than summoning her directly, and it reduced the number of targets Rasheal could strike. "Feel free to say whatever is on your mind, Master. When you're this quiet, it actually feels unnatural." Sensing Talia's mood, Lanqi communicated with her mentally, just as he had when the Demon King of Mad Love possessed him before. Their telepathic exchange was exceptionally efficient; they could fire dozens of retorts back and forth in a split second. "Are you serious, Lanlan? You actually have the leisure to chat with me at a time like this?" Talia had previously decided she should quietly act as a tool to supply him with power, lest she distract him. "Between him and me, in a best of five, I've never lost," Lanqi replied to Talia. Lanqi had never felt any pressure fighting Rasheal. If there was any real pressure, it was when he faced Talia—unable to flee, unable to resist, ultimately pinned to the ground beneath her overwhelming weight. "...I'm beginning to wonder, do you actually enjoy being sat on by me? You're asking for it on purpose, aren't you? You're truly hopeless!" Talia cursed inside his head. She was now convinced Lanqi felt zero pressure against Rasheal—because she couldn't even tell how many layers of innuendo and hidden quests he had managed to cram into a single sentence. Tens of thousands of black mist tendrils erupted from the square of the Blood King Palace, spiraling through the air as if alive. At the vortex's center, dark-red lightning crackled and popped, illuminating Rasheal's grim, ruthless face. Under this assault, Lanqi remained utterly unmoved, completely immune to the tier-9 spell cast by Duke Rasheal, the Third Progenitor, until its terrifying momentum subsided. "No wonder. It turns out you were the strongest among them all. To think you hid it so well, Professor Landry..." Rasheal's flare of rage gradually cooled following that brief outburst. After that exchange, he had gauged the opponent's general strength. When he first landed, the man had disguised himself as tier-7. But upon revealing sealing magic endowed with absolute immunity, he no longer concealed his cardinal-level might. If he truly was a peak tier-8 sealer capable of defeating Askesan, then he was indeed no mere ant to be casually squashed. Of course, the only difference was between killing him effortlessly or requiring a slight exertion. "So, Rasheal, can you tell me why your True King abandoned you?" Lanqi looked at the Third Progenitor, paying no heed to what Rasheal had said, focused solely on getting an answer to his own question. "..." Talia was all too accustomed to Lanqi's combat banter; it was always talking completely past the other person. In an instant, the veins near Rasheal's temples began to throb violently. He forced himself to quell his fury. The Cardinal of Mad Love was perhaps precisely this kind of aggravating bastard who reveled in psychological warfare, but the more one faced such a creature, the more one needed to remain calm as still water. "Professor Landry, while I do not know where you heard about the True King of the Blood Clan, if you wish to experience agony beyond death today, I shall grant your desire. Before that, however, I still want to ask: who on earth are you?" Rasheal raised his hand, gathering his vast tier-9 mana, ready to crush Landry from above at any moment and claim his life as he questioned him. If Landry hailed from the north, it was not entirely impossible for him to know about the True King. But if Landry failed to provide a satisfactory answer, he would simply send this sealer down to accompany Askesan. "Do I not look like Landry?" Lanqi asked as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "Never mind. I'll see for myself!" Rasheal felt the Cardinal of Mad Love was treating him like an idiot. He had never encountered a cardinal with such a personality. His mana surged tempestuously as invisible ripples of counter-magic swept across the Blood King Palace square, whipping up fierce gales. Under a tier-9 dispel spell, no disguise magic could remain hidden. The fellow across from him had undoubtedly used illusion or disguise magic to take on Professor Landry's appearance. "How could you do this..." Lanqi raised an eyebrow in surprise, glancing at the strands of hair fluttering across his forehead as he realized the disguise spell was being stripped away with overwhelming force. But it didn't matter. He had prepared a new outfit long ago, equipping an entirely ordinary equipment card: [Holy Polant Pope White Robe]. In an instant. The Divine Blood King Flames billowing out from the Blood King Palace danced wildly, yet they could not encroach upon the white-robed pope in the slightest. Before arriving, he had swallowed a mouthful of werewolf blood surging with berserk vitality; a phantom wolf—like the Moon Goddess's blessing—enveloped him, repelling the Divine Blood King Flames and shielding him from their scorching touch. When Rasheal's forced dispel took effect, Lanqi was draped in white vestments and concealed behind a silver-white mask, still denying Rasheal a clear view of his true visage. All that showed through the eyeholes of the mask were green eyes filled with benevolence, pity, and a trace of regret. Yet at this moment, Rasheal no longer wanted to see what lay beneath. "Ah... ah..." Rasheal's spell abruptly ceased. His lips trembled, his expression shifting from raging fury to stark pallor in a fraction of a heartbeat. Dense terror gathered like a dark cloud within his abruptly constricted blood-red pupils, eclipsing his progenitor's reason and courage, shattering the absolute confidence and assurance he had held just moments before. Insurmountable dread filled every corner of Duke Rasheal's limbs and bones. He did not understand why *that man* was here—why, after tens of thousands of years, he still walked this world! "You, Duke, bring me such joy." The white-robed pope looked at Rasheal with the same serene gaze, speaking with a touch of gratification. "Stop playing tricks, Landry!" Rasheal roared with a trembling throat. "Lancrosse is dead! He's been dead for tens of thousands of years! There's no way he could be here!!" This fury born of terror was not merely an instinctual deterrence when confronting a nemesis, but because the most humiliating memory had once again surged into his mind, threatening to crush him! "Die!!" Rasheal's eyes turned like two bottomless black holes, radiating boundless madness. Countless dark-red tendrils of mental force rapidly sprouted from Rasheal, blanketing the entirety of the Blood King Palace domain like a dense forest of thorns. The chill creeping up his spine made Rasheal want to abandon everything and flee this place. Yet if this person truly was the eternal, undying Holy Polant Pope, where could he possibly run? His only option was to rip away the veil of Landry the fraud! "You know, the power of your magical attacks isn't even worth dodging." The instant the dark-red tidal wave made contact with Lanqi, it hit what seemed to be an invisible wall, shattering to pieces and dissipating into scattered specks of crimson light. "...?" Rasheal could not believe that the tier-9 offensive spell he took so much pride in had done nothing. It only reminded him of that final battle tens of thousands of years ago—of the Holy Polant Pope, that near-magic-immune monster. "During the days you were sealed, I thought of you every single day," Maintaining the Decree of Eternal Punishment of the Black Sun Tyrant, Lanqi said to Rasheal. "Who on earth are you...?!" Rasheal stared at the nonchalant pope. A sense of doubt, dissonance, crushing frustration, and the feeling of being made a fool who was shadowboxing against thin air threatened to burst Duke Rasheal's skull. He could only cling to the belief that beneath this mask was merely another illusionist playing tricks. "Would you like to see what lies beneath my mask?" Lanqi chuckled softly from behind the mask. That frank, offhand remark caused a flicker of bewilderment to cross the eyes of Duke Rasheal, the Third Progenitor. "You try so desperately to hide your true face—isn't it precisely because you aren't *him*?!" Duke Rasheal, the Third Progenitor, interrogated Lanqi in exasperation. "Tell me, how much do you think I resemble the Holy Polant Pope?" Lanqi placed a hand on his cheek and slid the mask aside, revealing the pitch-black, centipede-like brand crawling along his right cheek. "This reunion is truly a joyous occasion." He declared plainly, giving Rasheal his answer. The cheek half-concealed by the silver-white mask, the mocking eyelid atop the black centipede, and the emerald eyes gleaming with chilling luminescence sent a shudder through Rasheal's very core. "No... you're not him..." Rasheal could only mutter in bewilderment. The true face, devoid of any disguise magic, bore an uncanny resemblance to the young Holy Polant Pope. If the Holy Polant Pope had been shattered jade repeatedly tempered and reborn in fire, then the young man before him was pristine, flawless glazed glass from the very start. To say this fellow had nothing to do with the Holy Polant Pope now—even Rasheal himself wouldn't believe it! Instinct had already caused his body to step back. The only thing he could rely on now was Blood Moon City's protection mechanism. As long as the sub-palaces of the other marquises were not breached, even if the real Holy Polant Pope had returned to life, he could do nothing to Rasheal. His only dread was that the Holy Polant Pope might go from sub-palace to sub-palace, torturing and slaughtering the marquises one by one, before returning to finish him off. The sheer power of the Holy Polant Pope was simply too anachronistic for the current era; even in Blood Moon City, he could easily take on a dozen foes alone, clearing every sub-palace before clearing the Blood King Palace. Therefore, the fact that this guy had come directly to the Blood King Palace to confront him proved he did not possess the strength of the Holy Polant Pope at his peak! "How agonizing it is to bear the will of the Black Sun—I understand far better than you." Lanqi spoke calmly to Rasheal, taking slow, deliberate steps toward him. As if returning to seek him out across ten thousand years. "If you have the guts, make your move! Let me see what you're truly made of!" Rasheal roared, summoning a sky full of blood-red mirrors once again. A kaleidoscopic swarm of crimson vipers surged forward, twisting and coiling to bind Lanqi's limbs, while mental attacks mirrored from Rasheal followed in rapid succession. Lanqi did not dodge in the slightest. "If you cannot endure this, you are unworthy of being the Third Progenitor." With his hands clasped behind his back, he strolled directly toward Rasheal. Each step he took was unyielding and unstoppable. The instant the crimson vipers touched him, they met the black mist, hissing into nonexistence to no effect. Rasheal had no idea what move his opponent intended to make; he only felt that all was lost, sitting on pins and needles. "That damned Holy Polant Pope is still chasing me!" Rasheal could not accept that his spells were completely ineffective. The white-robed pope drew closer to Rasheal, every step producing an illusion that made his brain tremble. ... Western sector of Blood Moon City. The two Blood Clan counts who had arrived in the Black Metropolis charged like lightning toward Abigail, who was engrossed in her work. Barton swiftly drew his magiteck vibration blade, its edge gleaming cold under the moonlight. He parried the countess's strike; metal clashed against sharp claws with a piercing screech, sending sparks flying. At the same time, Barton threw a flying dagger, pinning the leg of the count lunging toward Abigail to the ground. Yet the Blood Clan count, heedless of pain, tore his leg free and lunged toward Abigail. For a moment, the battle fell into a deadlock. Just then, Abigail finally completed the construction of the mechanical spatial barrier. A massive mechanical dimensional gate unfurled across the night sky, radiating an eerie blue light. A march of automata commenced; parts and weapons poured endlessly from the dimensional gate, assembling under Abigail's command into mechanical legions that drove the Blood Clan counts back amid bursts of gunfire. Seeing this, the Blood Clan count's expression shifted slightly. Before he could dodge the barrier's attacks, Barton caught up from behind, grabbed the back of his head, and slammed him into the ground. By now, Hyperion's figure had already vanished from the makeshift campsite. Abigail's protection had decreased accordingly. Fortunately, she had successfully erected the barrier. Now, she could divert more of her attention to directing battles elsewhere and sharing intelligence. "Meow-meow, is it really fine to let Hyperion go alone?" A black feline head poked out from the shadow beneath Abigail's feet. Seeing that the barrier was complete, it finally dared to show its face. Otherwise, it was best for it to stay in the shadows to deploy life-saving shields for Abigail at any moment. Boss Cat had originally wanted to accompany Hyperion, but judging the situation on the ground, Hyperion and Abigail decided Boss Cat should remain at the western campsite to ensure stable communications. If their intelligence command was severed, everyone would lose their maps and real-time combat status. "Have faith in Hyperion," Abigail said, her expression solemn as she gazed at the feeds transmitted by hundreds of mechanical messengers, focusing her eyes on the Hall of the Abyss. As the commander, she knew she could not afford to die; for the rest, she had to trust her teammates. The prerequisite for Hyperion successfully keeping Ulysses tied down was that the communication support on Abigail's end could not be cut off. "According to my real-time analysis just now, breaking the seal at the very bottom of the Hall of the Abyss requires specific conditions for an initial breach, and once breached, the high-density antimagic crystal inside must be shattered." Abigail broadcasted the raid notice to everyone through the comms, primarily to inform Hyperion. She didn't mind the cat popping up to speak; instead, she reached down, scooped it up, and placed it on her shoulder, letting it help monitor the map alongside her. Her mechanical messengers couldn't get close to the black crystal, or they would instantly be devoured by the blood serpents Ulysses had left in the abyss, so they could only appraise snippets of information from afar. "Understood, Abigail!" Hyperion's voice sounded through Abigail's mechanical headset. Before entering Blood Moon City, they had studied every possible type of seal. Sealing magic fell into two categories: deadlocks and live locks. A deadlock was like Askesan's sealing magic, which could not be undone unless the caster was slain; a live lock was like the Interlocking Decree, which could be voluntarily dispelled or forcibly broken. According to the professional sealer Lanqi's assessment, the seal placed on Mikhail by the Blood Clan could not possibly be the kind that required killing the caster, as that would violate the principle of strict correspondence between seal application and dispelling. Moreover, the Blood Clan was inherently unsuited for sealing magic; they preferred studying how to break seals rather than cast them. Thus, the type of seal binding Duke Mikhail was likely similar to the spell seen during the Banquet of Temple Villains that sealed Viscount Augustine. At the climax of the second Shadow World in the ancient castle night, Lanqi, Hyperion, and Frey had gone down to the underground wine cellar to find the sealed Viscount Augustine; to dispel it, Lanqi had asked Hyperion and Frey for some blood. When Viscount Augustine was sealed in Lichtenstein Castle, the condition was that he was sealed in the daytime under the influence of witch and werewolf powers; dispelling it required inverting that: at night, offering the blood of a witch and a werewolf broke the seal. By the same token, to undo the Blood Clan seal on Duke Mikhail, the required dispelling material was the mana-imbued blood of a high-ranking Blood Clan noble, or even the Blood Moon Essence used to create kin. "Meow-meow!" Boss Cat nervously watched Hyperion's feed on the display Abigail asked it to monitor. A mechanical messenger was tailing Hyperion as she stealthily sprinted south toward the Hall of the Abyss. From the Blood Clan members Iphatia had captured earlier, Lanqi and the others had extracted a significant amount of blood and even concentrated it into artificial Blood Moon Essence, which had been entrusted to Abigail. Just moments ago, Abigail had handed it over to Hyperion. In other words, they possessed the essential key to undoing the seal. The real challenge was how Hyperion would lure away the tier-8 blood serpent and secure enough time to shatter the high-density antimagic crystal holding Duke Mikhail captive. Yet as long as the antimagic crystal came under attack by Hyperion, Tenth Marquis Ulysses would most likely be tied down. "Testing, testing. My side has stabilized." Lanqi's voice suddenly came through again, reaching both Abigail and Boss Cat. "Lanqi, meow!" Boss Cat knew the battle was perilous; hearing Lanqi's voice at this moment was undeniably a shot of reassurance. "I overheard your appraisal of Duke Mikhail's seal status in the Hall of the Abyss just now. See, I told you Old Sang taught me well." Lanqi's voice buzzed faintly with the static of the comms. "Holy crap, meow." Boss Cat thought to itself that he really ought to give Old Sang a break already. That kid Lanqi had nerves of steel—fighting Rasheal on one end while casually contacting base camp on the other. "Abigail, I can join the command now. Focus on upgrading the camp's barrier and mechanical units; just share the intel with me," Lanqi spoke to Abigail in real time. "Understood." Abigail immediately turned her gaze toward the feed showing Lanqi at the Blood King Palace. It was pretty much as she had envisioned: once Lanqi established contact with Rasheal and stabilized the lane, he would be able to spare attention to help direct operations on her end. Because Lanqi couldn't scratch Rasheal, and Rasheal couldn't scratch Lanqi, leaving the two of them stuck in a stalemate at the Blood King Palace. Lanqi truly had no way to defeat Rasheal. Even if Blood Moon City's protection mechanism over Rasheal were broken, Lanqi and Talia alone could never subdue him. In the climax of the previous Shadow World, it had taken four great demons—Antanas, Sinora, Pranay, and the Ice Snow Witch—joining forces, combined with the special-effectiveness power of the sun, to truly vanquish Duke Rasheal, the tier-9 Third Progenitor. The only thing Abigail hadn't anticipated was that Lanqi had concocted the most torturous playstyle imaginable. Boss Cat happened to catch a glimpse of the feed on Lanqi's end, and its eye twitched violently. Right now, Lanqi and Rasheal were at best even in lane, neither able to leave the Blood King Palace—except Lanqi was having the time of his life, while Rasheal was serving a prison sentence.