The Hypocritical Holy Knight 106 Part 2

But the Pope only stared at his face for a moment, seemingly moved by his devout love for the Goddess of Light. A trace of gratification appeared in his eyes as he praised, "Very good, Cecil, my dear child. The Goddess of Light will surely hear your prayer."

Although Cecil had an aloof personality, his love and persistence for the Goddess of Light was also astonishing throughout the entire Light Church. This pure youth had almost dedicated his entire body and soul to the Light Church.

- Of course, this obsessive and simple personality also directly led to him being easily used by the Pope later on, dying in such an embarrassing way.

Because the strength of the two people in front of him was too high, He Yan did not dare to rashly use his spiritual power in front of them. Instead, he relied purely on his own acting skills, giving 120% of his performance. Under the oppressive gaze of the Pope that felt like a huge rock, he barely managed to avoid breaking Cecil's persona as a fanatical believer.

God knows that just now, he had been repeatedly playing various kinds of boundary-breaking bedroom activities between him and Xuan Qi in his mind, forcing himself to put on such a shy appearance.

In fact, the Holy Son's position in the church was somewhat awkward.

Although according to rank, the Holy Son is higher than the Cardinals, the reality is that the Holy Son does not have much power within the Church and his actions are restricted in every way.

At least the Cardinals still have the right to handle affairs independently, but the Holy Son can only follow the Pope's orders from beginning to end. Although the title sounds very prestigious and noble, in the end, he is nothing more than a pawn at the mercy of others.

If the Pope were a true Holy Father, it would be fine, and he might even be able to smoothly inherit the position of Pope. But with the one in front of him now, let alone cultivating him to be the next Pope, it's hard to say whether he can even survive until the other's abdication.

After all, in the original plot, this Holy Son "disappeared" in the elven territory during a mission before his twentieth birthday, and never appeared again.

Fortunately, his eighteenth birthday has not yet passed, and there are still two years before the "disappearance", so it's not a dead end yet.

The "seed" that the Pope planted in his body has not yet had time to completely pollute his body. If he finds a suitable method, perhaps it can be completely removed.

But the biggest problem is, as a Holy Son without real power, how can he make some small moves under the nose of the all-powerful Pope?

Without exception, all the attendants around him are the Pope's people. His daily life and whereabouts are reported in great detail to the Pope himself by these seemingly loyal servants after nightfall.

Even when sent out to other cities for missions, he still can't escape the surveillance of these spies.

In fact, it's not that there is no hope of escape if he makes a desperate attempt, but the worst thing is that, perhaps deliberately, Cecil's body has been pampered to the extreme by the Church's attendants. Even if he is allowed to run, he would tire himself to death.

Okay, even if he doesn't die of exhaustion, with the power of the Church of Light, he will eventually be caught and brought back. Then the Pope will have even more justification to punish him, and if he's more ruthless, he can even directly take this opportunity to get rid of him.

— He believes this sinister old man is absolutely capable of doing such a thing.

And if he stays in the Church of Light without doing anything, it's hard to avoid going down the same path as the original Cecil.

No matter how you look at it, Cecil's fate is a dead end.

Below the stands, the cheers of the crowd suddenly became enthusiastic. He Yan followed the sound and looked down, only to see a carriage engraved with the royal emblem of a lion, rose and sword slowly driving towards the stands from a special passage. The pure gold lion's head reflected a noble glow under the scorching sun.

The Pope's gray eyes fell on him again, and he said, "My child, let us go and welcome His Majesty the King together."

He Yan maintained his persona, obediently saying like a weak little white flower, "As you command, Father."

Then the Pope turned his head slightly and extended an invitation to the Knight Commander, who had been standing silently to the side since they exchanged greetings, "Lord Ambrose, please come along as well."

Ambrose's right hand was originally resting casually on the golden hilt of the sword at his waist. Upon hearing this, he raised it and slightly adjusted the thin white glove with his other hand, politely saying, "Of course, after you, Your Holiness."

As Ambrose raised his head to respond to the Pope, He Yan's gaze intersected with his for a moment.

Although the Knight Commander's eyes were very calm, He Yan always felt that he saw a hint of deeply buried malice in Ambrose's deep blue pupils, perhaps because he already knew the true identity of the person in front of him.

Like a venomous snake lurking in the dark, coldly and casually observing its weak prey, not knowing when it will suddenly bare its fangs, pierce the pale blue blood vessels, and inject nerve-paralyzing venom into his bloodstream.

Noticing his gaze, the corner of Ambrose's mouth lifted into a small arc, and his deep blue eyes suddenly became very gentle, as if he really admired him.

Admire, my ass.

......

He Yan calmly withdrew his gaze and couldn't help but sigh deeply in his heart.

He followed behind the Pope with a calm expression and steady steps, maintaining a distance that could both show respect and display a bit of the intimacy that should exist between the Pope and the Holy Son in the eyes of the people. He controlled himself to stare straight ahead and never look to the side.

After all, this is the Advent Day of the Goddess of Light, the home court of the Church of Light, so the Knight Commander is giving face today by walking behind the Pope.

— Just happening to be in the same row as him.

Except for him, the other two men, who are the second most powerful in the entire Delan continent, are not good people at all.

This inevitably makes him feel a lot, a lot of pressure.

He Yan was almost a little impatient to see the King of Delan.

Although this king is not a good person either — anyone who can firmly wear the crown of the ruler of the Delan continent for more than a decade is definitely not a purely good person, as one can tell with their heels.

But compared to the Pope and the Knight Commander, who are black from head to toe, this King looks particularly lovely.

He has a slightly chubby figure, with a visibly protruding little belly. He is very tall, with ruddy cheekbones. His appearance can't be called handsome, but it's definitely not bad either. The eyes he casts on He Yan are gentle and look very affable.

The three of them exchanged greetings with the King of Delan and said a bunch of polite pleasantries before starting today's main topic.

An attendant on the side slightly raised a white stone tablet, reminding the noble lords that the time for the start of the Advent Day celebration was about to arrive.

According to the convention of previous years, each year's Advent Day celebration would begin with a gorgeous Light Technique performed by the Pope or the King of Delan, kicking off the festive revelry.

Last year's opening ceremony was completed by the Pope, so this year it should be the King of Delan's turn.

— Although this king's talent in Light Techniques is really limited, fortunately, the Light Technique used as the opening of the celebration only needs to look good and does not require much power. With a few more practice sessions, one can become skillful.

The King of Delan, however, seemed to have something else in mind at this moment. He leaned forward slightly, revealing a benevolent smile, and spoke to the solemn-faced Pope in a casual tone, "Why don't we let Ambrose open this year's celebration? I think the people might prefer to see a handsome young man like Ambrose rather than old men like us."

The Pope fell silent for a moment, but did not reject the suggestion. "As you wish, Your Majesty."

Ambrose did not decline either. He straightened his pristine white gloves once more and stepped forward, fully exposing his tall and powerful figure to the fervent gazes of the crowd, eliciting a considerable cheer.

The instant the gavel in the attendant's hand struck the stone slab, a dazzling holy light burst forth from Ambrose's fingertips, swiftly soaring upwards. It expanded in the air, transforming into a sacred, immortal phoenix.

With a flap of its wings and its long neck held high, it let out a clear, ethereal cry. Countless tiny white specks of light fell from its wingtips like pure winter snow, cascading upon the shoulders of the people, akin to the blessings bestowed by the divine upon the living beings when they first descended upon this continent.

He proclaimed, "Let the revelry begin."

Author's Note:

I originally wanted to write about a reserved and aloof male lead, but it's evident that he has already turned to the dark side from head to toe (╯‵□′)╯︵┻━┻

→ A salted fish that has given up on treatment _(:з」∠)_