Chapter 35

The Ying Duo now is a far cry from the Ying Guang Lu freak before.

He became a young man dressed appropriately, with ordinary hair color and ordinary looks—the kind you see everywhere in the city.

Bai Mu Yun stepped back two paces, arms crossed, scrutinizing his "creation"; a faint, reluctant satisfaction finally flickered in his cold eyes.

"Hmm, at least it can be seen." Bai Mu Yun then nodded with satisfaction; with this, Ying Duo could walk onto the street without instantly drawing unnecessary attention.

He kicked the box aside, slipped his hands back into his pockets, stared at Ying Duo, and his tone turned serious again.

"Listen up, the mission we're about to undertake is to take part in an underground auction being held tonight by the Undercurrent."

"One of the auction's headline items is an 'Old World Undead.'"

"All intelligence concerning those 'Undead' should have been exclusively ours within the Dome, yet for some reason the news leaked, and the Church and several other troublesome factions caught wind of it."

At this point, he—unsure what he was thinking—suddenly grew cold in expression.

Clearly there's trouble inside the Dome; even he only learned of this news recently, and that spy must be a Dome member of rank no lower than his.

"The Undercurrent folks somehow captured a 'Undead' alive and delivered it to the auction."

"Our task is to, at any cost, either before or after the auction ends, find a way to take that 'Undead' away—understood?"

Although it's unclear how much of the 'Old World Undead' intel the rats leaked, in any case they cannot allow other factions to take the being away.

Seeing Ying Duo's vacant eyes, Bai Mu Yun guessed the guy probably didn't understand.

Forget it.

He simply tossed all the files on the Old World Undead in front of Ying Duo for him to read; at least Ying Duo can read, so no need for a separate explanation.

Come to think of it, Ying Duo was likely seized by the Heresy Tribunal for investigation because he was flagged as a suspect 'Undead.'

However, the Heresy Tribunal seems to have cleared him; he even managed to view the receipt sent to Mitra Academy through some means, and they all think the kid had a problem during awakening.

Colloquially, his brain is sick.

Cognitive disorder…

Treating life as a game—such a familiar phrase—but this kid takes it to a whole new level.

【Data logged: "Old World Undead"】

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The gaze pierced through layers of mist, focusing on the magnificent complex suspended atop Tianmian City, bathed in eternal holy light.

The Pale Royal Court.

In its core area, within an extremely secret prayer hall illuminated solely by a few dim blue wall lamps.

The contemporary Pope, a youth whose appearance is unusually young, stood silently beneath the shadow of a massive, indistinct ancient deity statue.

He possessed deep blue short hair, wore an ultra‑simple pure white robe, yet naturally exuded unquestionable authority.

He was not praying to a deity; instead, he was conversing with a floating image, which continuously twisted and rippled, its voice processed through complex machinery.

"…the Heresy Tribunal has already acted fully in accordance with your plan," the Pope's voice sounded easygoing, merely stating the fact.

"The timing and scope of the leak are within our calculations, enough to stir the board, draw all parties in, yet not give them sufficient reaction time for thorough deployment."

From the projection side came a severely distorted synthetic electronic voice, the original tone indecipherable.

"…received, but I must warn you, the spatial barrier is becoming increasingly fragile; the scale of those 'Undead' appearances may continue to expand."

The Pope gave a slight nod, his blue strands glinting coldly under the dim blue light.

"Is that so? Though I haven't sensed temporal anomalies on them, the time in Tianmian City has been fluctuating frequently; I have yet to pinpoint the cause."

If he could leave here and investigate outside, perhaps he could confirm the source of the anomaly…

But he cannot; he can only watch the situation unfold here.

"Fate is tightening its latitude and longitude, and we, at this moment, stand on the edge of the eye of the storm."

"The Dome's internal activity frequency has risen markedly lately; Fang Zhiyan seems to have fallen into silence, and he likely already possesses an 'Undead,' even beginning a series of experiments."

The distorted voice continued its report, revealing intelligence from the Dome's Core tier.

"…I understand. Keep in touch, but your top priority is always your own concealment and safety; compared to that intel, your safety is more important to me."

The Pope's tone carried admonition and concern.

A brief silence spread between them, only the projector's faint hum breaking it.

After a moment, the Pope's voice seemed to soften slightly, a faint trace of humanity leaking through the shell of Divinity.

"It's been so long, you're still deep in the Wolf's Nest; is everything still alright? Want to return…"

From the projection side came an extremely light, teasing, detached snicker that cut off the words he was about to utter.

"Put away that charlatan‑like tone of yours. Over here? Ha… but it's incredibly amusing."

"Someone recently prepared a series of 'surprise gift packs' for me, leaving me swamped… No need to worry; if I need anything, I'll get in touch."

"If there's nothing urgent… then please don't disturb my rare downtime."

The communication was unilaterally cut off; the distorted projection flickered once and vanished completely into the air.

In the dim prayer hall, only the Pope's solitary figure remained.

He slowly lifted his head, gazing at the vague‑faced statue that seemed to have stared across eternity.

In his deep eyes reflected the cold blue glow; no one could glimpse the swirling thoughts and secrets beneath.

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The Heresy Tribunal is located in a safe house within Tianmian City's shadows; it's more a function‑first tactical preparation room than a residence.

The air was scented with weapon‑maintenance oil and a faint whiff of iron rust.

The battles and interrogations that have taken place here over the years have left indelible marks.

Qi Junyi stood before the mirror, adjusting the knot of his collar.

He will never understand why the Undercurrent's neurotic bunch insists that everyone at the auction must wear such uncomfortable formal attire.

The robust frame swelled the impeccably tailored black high‑end suit, exuding raw power, like an ancient feral bear forced into a civilized shell.

Not saying anything else, I still look pretty handsome after tinkering with myself like this.

Looking at himself in the mirror, Qi Junyi nodded in satisfaction.

His gaze, reflected off the mirror, fell on the black leather sofa in the corner of the room, whose material was unknown but obviously extremely comfortable.

On the sofa, Chi Jin An sank into it with an utterly languid posture, as if all the bones in his body had been pulled out.

He also changed into the same suit as Qi Junyi; the well-fitted cut outlined his lean yet smooth muscle lines, forming a stark contrast to Qi Junyi's burly build.

I don't know where he found a silver mask to wear on his face, revealing only slightly pale thin lips and a smooth jawline.

「Tsk。」

Qi Junyi couldn't help but scratch his own head.

Even he had to admit that this guy really had a great physique.