Chapter 283-The Manga Pariah's Guide to Self-Salvation
Knock, knock, knock—
The rapping on the door shattered the oppressive silence blanketing the parlor. The anxiously waiting group exchanged uneasy glances; for a moment, no one moved.
"Is it a messenger?"
"Maybe General Bai Yi already won and is back, haha."
Roy sat on the innermost sofa. He braced his hands on his knees and stood, mercilessly puncturing their hopes. "I haven't received any word. Bai Yi and the others are most likely still locked in a bitter fight."
"The person outside..."
This hideout sat in a remote corner of the East District, its paths rugged and overgrown. Even with a map, getting here was incredibly easy to get lost. No stranger could possibly find their way, and the guards they'd posted would never knock so casually.
Roy took a few steps toward the front door and stopped a short distance away, calling out loudly, "Who are you? State your name!"
Outside, the irritating knocking finally ceased.
"It's me."
A gentle voice filtered through the door, sounding not quite real.
"Heath?"
Roy recognized the familiar voice. He relaxed for a moment, then a flash of annoyance crossed his face. He yanked the door open, and Heath's innocent face jumped into view.
"Where did you just go?"
Heath blinked, her expression apologetic. "Sorry, His Majesty was inquiring about our situation. I had to report in."
Her answer was vague, but Roy wore a knowing look. "His Majesty" obviously meant the Emperor. Heath acted solely on the Emperor's orders—he might even have arranged some contingency through her.
Compared to destroying the Dragon Bones, his desire to kill Ye Zheng burned even stronger.
Seeing it was only Heath, the room collectively exhaled. Ever since receiving news of their forces' repeated defeats, the knot of dread in their chests had refused to loosen.
If they failed, it wouldn't simply mean losing noble status the way Bai Yi had. Afterward, Ye Zheng would surely send every last one of them to the gallows!
In that spacious parlor, Roy stood out as remarkably composed. Even if this raid failed, he had the means to extricate himself. After all, he hadn't actually done anything. Ye Zheng, Pope or not, couldn't legitimately convict him—especially given his current status, which was no longer that of a mere commoner contestant.
Roy's gaze drifted to Heath, searching her expression for any clue about the Emperor's stance.
The Empire's sole princess stood quietly by the tightly sealed window, the greater part of her face hidden in shadow, only a slightly tense sliver of her profile visible. Roy could tell she seemed to be wrestling with something.
He thought for a moment, then decided to approach and ask her directly.
How could the Emperor send her with only a hundred reinforcements? This was a golden opportunity to eliminate the threat of Ye Zheng. He refused to believe the Emperor had prepared so little.
"Heath, you..."
—Knock, knock, knock.
The knocking came again. Roy's outstretched hand froze in midair. Heath seemed to snap back to attention, turning her body toward the door.
The aristocrats in the parlor had only just sat down; at the sudden knocking, they shot to their feet again, speechless.
This time the knocks were light and unhurried, as though one could imagine knuckles tapping crisply against a metal door—impeccably mannered with a hint of nonchalance.
Before anyone could react, Heath was the first to reach the door, her hand closing around the handle.
At the sight, Roy's heart lurched violently. He strode toward Heath, trying to grab her shoulder and stop her.
"Heath, confirm who's out there first—"
"I know. It's His Majesty."
Heath glanced back with a smile. A strange light flickered across her serene face as she pulled the door open.
Midday sunlight spilled onto the opulent carpet at once, putting the indoor lighting to shame. And with it came a long, dark silhouette.
"Good afternoon, everyone."
The white-robed Pope appeared in the doorway, her smile slight yet courteous, her voice as warm and approachable as ever.
The moment they recognized the visitor, the room fell deathly silent. Every pair of eyes went wide without a sound, fragile pupils trembling. Someone staggered backward in disbelief, collapsing into a plush sofa, their expression as horrified as if they were being dragged into a swamp.
Ye Zheng strolled in without hurry and shut the door behind her. She swept her gaze around the room, her eyes like a dull blade grinding against every taut, brittle nerve.
"It seems I'm not very welcome here."
Roy braced himself against the wall, nearly tearing through the wallpaper. He clawed back a shred of clarity from his shock and blurted, "How—how could you—" Something hit him all at once. He whipped his head around and glared at someone. "Heath!"
Heath ignored Roy's fury. She walked straight to Ye Zheng's side and asked in a low voice, "Is everything outside taken care of?"
Ye Zheng nodded, her expression calm. "Only the people inside are left."
A middle-aged man who had been quietly inching toward the door to call for help went rigid. Still unwilling to believe, he shoved the door open with all his might—and the sight that met him, the reek of blood flooding in from every direction, finally cracked his expression wide open, revealing the despair underneath.
"You're no Chosen One, Ye Zheng—you're a monster! A devil!" he screamed, breaking down.
Ye Zheng looked as though she'd heard a joke that wasn't particularly funny. She gave a perfunctory tug of her lips. "Don't forget—you were the ones who started this conflict."
"There's no logic in which you're heroes if you win, but I'm a devil if I do."
Her white robe was immaculate, not a speck of dust on it, yet the killing intent and scent of blood wreathing her were impossible to conceal. With each step she took forward, the cowering lords trembled harder. They, too, possessed formidable abilities—yet in this moment, they couldn't so much as lift a finger.
Ye Zheng's gaze swept across their faces. "Do you know what crime you've committed?"
"You challenged my authority as Pope and the governing order. That constitutes treason."
Ye Zheng raised her hand, fingers slowly tightening in midair. Threads of water flickered in and out of sight, connecting to their targets, pulled ever tighter, their arcs growing straighter and sharper.
Those ensnared by the water threads could no longer speak to answer the Pope's question. Their throats could only manage hoarse, rasping remnants of sound.
Whether it was excuses, curses, or pleas for mercy—Ye Zheng gave them no chance to speak.
"According to the law, your sentence is—hanging."
The calm words fell. Blood burst forth in an instant. They didn't even have time for a final scream.
In a heartbeat, the heavy stench of blood permeated the room.
Roy collapsed to the floor beside them. Blood spattered across his pampered, pale face. His bloodless lips trembled faintly.
In the blink of an eye, only three living souls remained in the vast parlor.
He sat stunned for a long while before managing, with difficulty, "Your Holiness, Percy and I only wanted to obtain the Dragon Bones. We were merely cooperating with them temporarily—nothing more."
"I—"
"Relax." Ye Zheng crouched down, looking him straight in the eye.
"What a coincidence—I, too, only want to obtain the Dragon Bones. We share the same goal, so we should be able to understand each other."
"Hand over the Dragon Bones, and I won't lay a hand on you."
Ye Zheng coaxed gently. Behind her, Heath wore a pensive expression, lowering her eyes to conceal the turmoil within.
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