Chapter 102: Twelve Wings?

Inside a church built a hundred years ago.

Sunlight streams through the stained glass, casting shadows on the stone‑tiled floor.

The bishop who oversees this place is—Bishop Fuleide Thompson.

He was called a prodigy since his youth; at twenty he became a third‑rank ordained priest, at twenty‑seven reached the fifth rank, at forty‑five the sixth rank and became a bishop.

Then, like a blade through bamboo, he attained the ninth rank before turning sixty.

But that seems to be his ceiling.

He just celebrated his seventy‑fifth birthday last month.

It not only means he has been stuck at the ninth rank for many years, but also that his lifespan is nearing its end.

They differ from the Eastern Chain Qi Warriors who can extend their lives through cultivation; no matter how powerful they become, their lifespan is fixed.

Breaking past the ninth rank in this life and becoming a Grand Archbishop above it… hope is slim.

So, he is unwilling to accept it.

Thompson sits at an oak desk, leafing through a palm‑sized, already yellowed little book.

He acquired it by accident.

"Vampire, Werewolf, long‑life strains…" he murmurs, eyes fixed on the twisted runes on the page:

"If we could obtain their source of immortality…"

Scattered on the desk are several experimental reports; the topmost records a chilling detail:

【Experimental Subject #47, after testing, his lifespan extended by three years and four months, but obvious bestial traits appeared…】

"We can now extend life by three years, but the body mutates into those monsters…" Thompson's fingers tap the desk unconsciously:

"We must experiment again; if we can capture a vampire royalty or a werewolf…"

Bang!

The study door bursts open, and a panting young priest rushes in:

"Bishop! They say they've sensed the aura of a vampire royalty! Right in London!"

Thompson stuffs the book into his pocket, springs to his feet, and the heavy oak chair scrapes the floor with a harsh screech:

"What? Are you sure it's real?!"

The priest nods vigorously, sweat beading on his forehead: "Absolutely certain! It's the result detected by the holy relic! Moreover…"

"Based on reports from the various Exorcism Offices, the number of vampires appearing in London and its outskirts has risen noticeably lately."

"Excellent! I…" Thompson's words are cut off abruptly.

His wrinkled face freezes, his eyes suddenly widen.

A terrifyingly massive aura flashes within his perception—it's the secret experimental base outside the East District!

"Damn…" Thompson's complexion darkens instantly, the earlier joy evaporating.

He knows exactly what it means—before the experiment succeeds fully, these clandestine studies must never be exposed!

Just as he prepares to teleport away, the study door is thrown open again.

Two towering figures, bodies sheathed in silvery armor with only their heads exposed, stride in with heavy steps.

The inscriptions on their armor and their aura announce to the world that each of them is a ninth‑rank Knight Commander!

"Limu, Bulaike." Thompson says without waiting for them to speak:

"Let's go, see who has the nerve to act so boldly!"

No extra words; the three figures appear in the study simultaneously.

Only the bewildered priest remains standing, clueless about what happened.

"The last one."

Yu Lin kicks the knight who swung his sword at him; the armored figure arcs through the air and crashes heavily onto the ruins fifty meters away, emitting a dull metallic thud.

His gaze sweeps around—on the ground lie roughly a hundred knights, priests and nuns, scattered haphazardly.

These people had just shouted something like "Exorcise demons, defend the Lord's glorious light," and then charged at him.

None could land a hit.

Uh, someone who can hit seems to have arrived.

Yu Lin flicks his wrist, then, as if realizing something, looks up at the sky.

Three figures are now hovering mid‑air; leading them is Bishop Fuleide Thompson.

His eyes, brimming with fury and murderous intent, stare fixedly at Yu Lin, his facial wrinkles twisted by anger.

"Eastern one," Thompson's voice rasps like sandpaper:

"Who allowed you to cause trouble in our territory?"

Yu Lin raises an eyebrow, lifts his finger toward the sky:

"Christ sent me."

The air freezes instantly.

Thompson's expression stiffens, and the two Knight Commanders behind him also pause in obvious surprise.

"..........." The old bishop's face flushes bright red, veins bulging on his forehead:

"How dare you desecrate my Lord!"

His roar echoes over the ruins; his white vestments flutter without wind, and a powerful Holy Power begins to gather around him.

Yu Lin's face shows contempt: "I desecrate?"

"You who claim to act 'for the Lord' while pursuing your own ends are the true desecrators, aren't you?"

"Silence! Limu! Bulaike!" Thompson barks sharply, "Take down this blasphemer!"

The two Knight Commanders draw their swords simultaneously, their silvery armor gleaming in the sunlight.

Their Holy sigils lit up one by one, and the surging Holy Power flowed over the blade as if it were solid!

"In the name of the Lord—"

"Judge the blasphemers!"

Two figures plunged down like lightning; wherever the sword edge pointed, the air was torn with a shrill, piercing scream!

Yu Lin watched them charge, and brushed his finger that wore a ring..........

Boom—!

Twelve light wings thunderously unfurled behind him!

Each feather was carved from the purest crystal, yet stained with abyssal shadows.

Holy purity and fallen radiance intertwined, tracing a dazzling path through the air.

Time seemed to freeze at that moment.

Lim and Blake were frozen mid‑air.

Thompson watched this scene, his face full of stupefaction:

"Ten… Twelve Wings… This is impossible…"

"Y‑you are an angel?"