A priest who loses his purity loses his divine gifts. Even though Lin Yao’s invocation of the Posuo Flowers did not rely on the magic of this world, he could no longer channel that power through conventional means.
A powerless priest—incapable of so much as lifting a chicken, yet possessing a breathtakingly exquisite face—had only one remaining purpose: to exist as a captive pet.
After being defiled inside the Grand Shrine, he was moved to a distant, secluded palace within the royal complex, lest his tainted body desecrate the sacred domain of the gods.
With a black cloth tied over his eyes and his wrists pinned above his head by a broad hand, light, painful kisses brushed across his neck—as if deliberately attempting to mask the soft tenderness beneath.
It was a warning to himself, as well as a reminder to the person pinned beneath him: they were no longer intimate lovers worthy of gentle affection; they were bitter enemies, destined only to inflict pain upon each other.
Cody came every single night. Just as he was doing now, he avoided looking into Lin Yao’s eyes or watching his expression, choosing instead to simply vent his raw desires. Lips like blooming blossoms, skin silkier than fine satin—in all of Onassis, there was no substitute for him. That was the sole reason Cody kept this enemy locked within the palace instead of sending him straight to the gallows.
A priest who had been defiled and stripped of his purity committed an act of sacrilege against the gods. By rights, his entire body should have been consumed in scorching flames to cleanse his sins, leaving his soul to repent at the feet of the divine.
Yet, whenever Cody envisioned that scene, a sense of helplessness and terror surged from the depths of his heart. The priestly scriptures explicitly stated: The death of the physical body is not true death; the soul undergoes rebirth to claim life anew.
Even if Cody wanted to believe it, if that soul reclaimed a new life, would the person standing before him still be him?
Once he truly passed away, he would be gone forever.
The wrist in his grasp showed not the slightest hint of struggle or resistance. Unlike before, when Lin Yao would resist fiercely—the very struggle that made Cody want to see him suffer all the more.
“Have you finally realized what your place is?” Cody asked. The person beneath him lay as motionless as a corpse, offering no resistance and showing no trembling, as if he had already grown accustomed to being used however Cody pleased.
“Yes, Your Highness,” that beautiful mouth murmured softly, carrying a hint of lingering tenderness. “You don’t need to restrain me, nor do you need to blindfold me with this cloth. I’ll cooperate. As your captive, it’s only natural that I obey you.”
Cody’s surging heart sank instantly. Right. He shouldn’t harbor any further expectations for this man. There was no love in him.
Cody stroked the side of Lin Yao’s neck, feeling the steady thrum of blood pulsing beneath his fingers. His voice carried a cold, mocking laugh: “Who knows whether you’d use those eyes to spellbind me just as you spellbound Kathy? Isn’t that right, Joyce Chade?”
Joyce Chade—the youngest prince of the Chade royal family, and the very boy Cody had personally spared, brought back to the royal capital of Onassis, and protected for eight long years as the High Priest Yao.
With the truth exposed, so many past events finally found their explanation. Beneath that gentle facade lay a bone-deep hatred. Lin Yao had used his tenderness and beauty to entice him, drawing him willingly into a hell from which there was no return.
“I wouldn’t. You know that I love you deeply.” The words uttered by the man beneath him were far too sweet. Taking advantage of Cody’s momentary lapse, Lin Yao slipped his slender wrists out of his grasp and reached up to pull off the black cloth over his eyes.
Lin Yao blinked his clear eyes, seemingly uncomfortable with the sudden light. Yet his gaze as he looked at Cody remained just as it used to be—gentle as clear water, so beautiful that it tempted one to peer beneath the surface to see if the depths were truly as serene as the top.
Slender arms wrapped around Cody’s neck, pulling him down for a soft kiss on the lips. He was as gentle as ever, but now, a strange trace of flippancy was woven into his touch.
With his lovely lashes lowered slightly, his melodious voice stirred a restless heat: “I can’t run away anyway, and I’ve already been caught by you. I can’t kill you, and I don’t dare take my own life. It’s better to be obedient—maybe I’ll even live a little longer. Since you like my body, I’ll give it to you.”
His chin was suddenly seized in a crushing grip. Cody showed no mercy, his expression terrifyingly cold. “What do you take yourself for? What do you take me for?”
“You will be the most brilliant king Onassis has ever seen,” Lin Yao murmured, his red lips curving into a gentle smile. “As for me? I am merely the best tool for you to vent your desires. Otherwise, what did you think I considered myself?
Your lover? I’m not that foolish.”
Cody’s chest heaved violently. In trampling on himself, this man had trampled on Cody’s feelings at the same time.
Cody still remembered the young priest clad in white robes—the boy who wore a mask that revealed only a pair of beautiful, crystalline eyes. Those eyes had been completely pure. Though he had seemed frightened at times, the gentle way he bandaged Cody’s wounds had been real, and his careful protection when Cody was on the brink of death had not been a lie either.
Why? How could a person hide so deeply, and change so completely?
“If you hate me, why didn’t you kill me before?” Cody’s fingers tightened as he stared directly into Lin Yao’s eyes. “You must have had the chance.”
Whenever he was in front of this man, his guard was at its lowest. When an arrow pierced Cody’s chest and his life hung in the balance, Lin Yao wouldn’t have even needed to strike a final blow; he simply had to do nothing, and Cody would have died.
A faint thread of hope surged in Cody’s heart. Perhaps, he couldn’t bear to let me die.
Yet those gentle words shattered his remaining hope to pieces once again: “Because dying like that would have been far too easy on you. Dying without suffering is so boring. Isn’t it much more amusing this way? You are left all alone, only to fall in love with your enemy.”
“Does your heart hurt?” Lin Yao asked, blinking innocently with a pure, guileless gaze. His hands began to move playfully, like a mischievous child, yet effortlessly stoking every emotion in the man above him. “Don’t be afraid. You just need to vent it all on me. Just like the late Prince Kathy said, I’m a sensible person. Even though I hypnotized him, I still let him vent occasionally. You know better than anyone—you don’t even need to go all the way to find relief, do you?”
He spoke the most venomous words in the gentlest tone imaginable.
Cody released his chin and abruptly slammed his hand around Lin Yao’s neck, slowly tightening his grip.
His hands were strong enough to snap a grown man’s neck, let alone a throat as slender as this one. With just a firm squeeze, he could silence those detestable words forever. He would lie there obediently, incapable of making Cody’s heart feel as though it were being hollowed out.
Lin Yao closed his eyes. As the grip around his throat tightened, breathing became increasingly difficult. Yet, even as his face flushed deep red, he didn’t struggle in the slightest.
Just as his consciousness hovered on the brink of fading, the hand suddenly released him.
A rush of fresh air flooded his lungs. Lin Yao collapsed onto the bed, coughing violently. Through his tear-filled vision, he caught sight of Cody’s retreating back as footsteps echoed out of the room.
[Host! Host, quick, take deep breaths!] The System was so anxious it wished it could physically manifest. [Inhale for six seconds, hold for three, exhale for six! It effectively calms your breathing and regulates your heart rate!]
Lin Yao gradually steadied his breathing, though his neck still burned with a sharp, searing pain. Just now, Cody had genuinely wanted to strangle him. Unfortunately, leaving a margin meant he simply couldn’t bring himself to be that ruthless.
[Host, why did you have to provoke him?] The System had been preparing to snuggle into its virtual blanket for a nap while muted, only to be terrified out of its wits by a sudden life-threatening emergency alert.
Lin Yao appeased it with the casual nonchalance of soothing a puppy: [Because I wanted to sleep, not do it.]
Continuing down that path would bring no benefit to their dynamic anyway; he genuinely disliked that purely transactional, venting style of intimacy.
It didn’t advance the mission, nor did he enjoy it. He would much rather take a gamble on the edge of death to secure himself some peace and quiet.
Sure enough, after that day, Cody did not return. He didn’t even drop by for a quiet glance while Lin Yao was asleep, as if determined to sever all emotional ties completely.
Meanwhile, the palace grew bustling with activity. Halls were swept, decorations were hung, and lanterns were strung up everywhere, as if a monumental occasion were approaching.
Before Lin Yao could ask, the System did a quick lap around the grounds and reported back: [Host, I heard a lot of people saying the King is getting married! But isn’t the King already dead?]
“When a king dies, a new one takes the throne. It means Cody is marrying a queen, you dummy,” Lin Yao said plainly.
The System fell silent for a moment. Seeing no sign of despondency from Lin Yao, it stammered tentatively: [Host, aren’t you angry at all?]
Lin Yao countered, “Why should I be angry?”
[Well—] The System hesitated before answering with utmost honesty, [I don’t know either, but I just felt like you should be angry.]
As it mumbled to itself, Lin Yao’s hands paused. He suddenly burst into a light laugh. “You actually have a point. Thanks for reminding me—I didn’t realize you had such a dark side.”
[Huh?]
The System was completely bewildered. Lin Yao, however, turned and walked toward the palace doors. Looking out at the sudden burst of lush, vibrant flowers adorning the courtyard, he asked with a cold expression, “What are you all doing?”
Fiery red roses covered the ground, as if deliberately arranged to draw his question.
The guards outside kept their heads bowed, not daring to look at his face. The last person who had dared harbor improper thoughts about him had vanished into thin air, never to be seen in the palace again.
“These are decorations for Prince Cody’s upcoming wedding to the Queen. They are not meant for you.”
Lin Yao’s cold expression froze for a moment. His resting fingers tightened slowly into a fist. Saying nothing more, he turned, stepped back inside, and shut the heavy double doors behind him.
The System wisely refrained from asking any further questions. After all, even if it asked and the Host answered, it wouldn’t understand anyway—it was better off using that spare time to watch a couple of cartoons.
Since it didn’t ask, Lin Yao enjoyed the peace and quiet.
One-sided devotion would eventually wear anyone down if left on its own. But if a person were given even a sliver of hope, that tiny bit of genuine affection could be tormented over and over again.