Chapter Ninety-Five: The Pope

Bohr's expression changed instantly—the boy truly was a wolf in sheep’s clothing. Outwardly, he appeared weak, his muscles limp and his gait unsteady, but once he sprang into action, he struck with the force of a thunderbolt. Such a fierce punch, such mastery in manipulating energy—this was not something one could achieve without years of dedicated training. In fact, he was only a hair’s breadth behind Bohr himself. How the Voodoo Cult could let such a promising talent loose on a terrorist mission was beyond comprehension.

Bohr, a veteran of countless battles, was not easily rattled. Though Zhou Tian’s punch came at him with overwhelming momentum, it was still within his ability to react. He raised his right arm, blocking with the side of his fist. The patterns on his arm-guard flared, white runes blazing to life. With a resounding bang, Zhou Tian’s fist was deflected.

At the same time, Bohr clenched his left hand, gathering milky-white energy. An energy spear materialized, lifelike and intricate, its tip etched with patterns. With a swift thrust, he aimed straight for Zhou Tian’s chest.

“Let this blasphemer be judged!”

A roar erupted from the watching believers—Zhou Tian’s earlier words had driven them to the brink of madness.

Yet Zhou Tian neither dodged nor flinched—perhaps he simply did not wish to. The spear struck his chest, and Bohr’s pupils contracted sharply. The energy spear halted as though it had struck a barrier of sunstone, stopping dead at Zhou Tian’s skin. In the next instant, the spear dissolved into white light and was absorbed into Zhou Tian’s body.

“The Lord of Voodoo grants me strength! The Super Invincible Death God-Slaying Spear!”

Zhou Tian shouted, swinging his arm. A spear identical to the one Bohr had conjured appeared in his grasp, and he launched it forward in a mirrored attack.

A hush fell over the believers. Why did this attack seem so strangely familiar?

Bohr’s eyes narrowed. The gap between them was now too small for him to use his divine defenses in time. His hands glowed with light as he caught Zhou Tian’s spear, his grip tightening in a burst of fury.

Yet the instant he took hold, Bohr looked at Zhou Tian with shock and suspicion. “Holy Divine Power—who are you, truly?” The moment his hands closed around the spear, he sensed it immediately: pure, unadulterated holy power of the Sacred Church. Its radiance and sanctity were unmistakable.

For a brief moment, Bohr was distracted. The spear pierced his breastplate with a clear, ringing sound, but his armor, though battered, held firm, runes glowing as it blocked the blow.

In a flash of white light, Bohr reappeared some distance away, putting space between himself and Zhou Tian. He frowned deeply, troubled by the pureness of the divine power Zhou Tian had displayed. Only the most devout believers could wield such energy.

Zhou Tian, too, stood motionless, a look of resignation hidden beneath his mask. He could not help it—his “Attack Rebound” skill merely redirected an opponent’s attack back at them, without altering its nature. Energy constructs like the one before were easy enough to spot.

“Who are you? No one from the Voodoo Cult could possess such pure holy power,” Bohr demanded.

He seemed not to realize that Zhou Tian’s attacks were simply his own reflected back at him. After all, the techniques used were basic combat skills, common to many, and he assumed Zhou Tian was merely mocking him by copying his moves.

Zhou Tian pondered for a moment. Who, indeed, was he?

“Long live the Voodoo Cult! May the Lord of Voodoo topple the Sacred Church’s master!”

Bohr’s eyes blazed with fury. It mattered not who this man was—he would bring him down first and ask questions later. Such blasphemy could not be tolerated.

Divine power surged through him as he formed a spell with his hands.

“Sacred Lion Seal!”

A massive white-maned lion, nearly a hundred yards in length, appeared behind him. Its head alone was ten yards wide, its mane flowing in the wind, each hair seemingly tangible, and its beastly eyes filled with menace.

“It’s the avatar of the Radiant Sacred Lion!” a believer cried out, some even dropping to their knees in prayer. The Radiant Sacred Lion held great significance in the Sacred Church, once the mount of a revered saint.

With a deafening roar, the lion pounced at Zhou Tian, its gaping maw splitting the air and shattering the very space beneath its feet.

The lion’s jaws closed over Zhou Tian, but Bohr’s frown only deepened. Sure enough, just like the energy spear before, the white lion dissolved into a stream of light and was absorbed into Zhou Tian’s body.

Zhou Tian traced a circle on the ground with an elaborate gesture, while an ominous premonition welled up in Bohr’s chest.

“Summoning Ritual—Radiant Sacred Lion!”

With a shout, a white lion—slightly smaller than Bohr’s own—materialized, roaring as it charged at Bohr.

Once again, the believers fell silent, exchanging bewildered glances.

Before Bohr could act, a clear, commanding voice echoed through the air:

“The Six-Rod Prison of Light!”

With a resonant hum, six pillars of light, each a yard thick and nearly a hundred yards tall, inscribed with intricate runes and brimming with crushing force, descended from the heavens, encircling the white-maned lion in a hexagon.

Chains of divine order unfurled from the pillars, wrapping around the sacred lion layer by layer, tightening relentlessly. The lion roared in defiance, but it was to no avail—both it and the pillars vanished in a burst of light.

A figure in white robes descended from the sky. Gold-threaded magnolia flowers and the wings of the Angel of Judgment were embroidered on his robe. He bore the features of a middle-aged man, his face wreathed in a gentle smile. Golden hair cascaded down his back, and a wreath of green vines adorned his brow. In one hand, he held a golden scepter, exuding an aura of sanctity.

“Your Holiness!” came the collective cry, startling Zhou Tian. Turning, he saw all the believers kneeling, chanting in reverent awe.

Impressive, Zhou Tian thought, eyeing the so-called Pontiff. Even Bohr bowed respectfully at his side.

“Those who blaspheme against our Lord must be judged,” the Pontiff said softly, his eyes aglow with white light. He tapped his scepter, causing runes to flare. Six pillars of light descended, rune-chains extending to bind Zhou Tian. The pillars shrank, transforming into luminous collars that fastened around his neck, limbs, and one around his forehead.

“Take him to the Inquisition. At sunrise, he shall be judged alongside the others.”

His voice was calm, as if Zhou Tian were beneath his notice. With those words, he turned and departed, holy light parting to make way.

Zhou Tian paused a moment, surprised—he had expected to put on a longer act, but now, thanks to this fool, he was being sent straight in. He was more than happy with this turn of events.

“Yes, Your Holiness!” Bohr responded, stepping forward to remove Zhou Tian’s mask. He scrutinized Zhou Tian’s face, found nothing familiar, then waved for several silver-armored guards to escort him away.

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