Squeak!
Without stopping, Fu Qian closed the door behind him as he walked and even tidied his cloak nonchalantly.
The face on the resting bed was undeniably familiar; he had even seen it in the mirror just two days ago.
Meeting the esteemed Pontiff Niel Glegorya wasn't easy by any means.
There was no time to change clothes.
Although his cloak was of professional design, it was terribly tattered and couldn't hide the mangled flesh beneath.
The overload from the Mythical Form earlier was now showing.
The wounds under the Hazy Saw hadn't fully healed; now, their recovery had almost halted, with some areas even regressing to negative.
Specifically, the wounds seemed to have taken a life of their own, crawling and spreading outward.
Recovery might take some time.
The reason for not taking that time to make the audience more dignified was simple— the moment he opened the door, the Pontiff sensed something.
She showed a faint breath and her body subtly responded.
...
