“Your Highness?”
Scrutinized by such an intense gaze, Lin Yao—who had led countess sacred rituals before vast crowds and faced countless burning, worshipful eyes—could not ignore the raw, direct line of sight this man cast upon him.
He even felt a faint sense of embarrassment meeting his gaze.
Cody made no attempt to withdraw his open scrutiny. Instead, he asked casually, “Yao, have you ever regretted becoming a priest?”
Lin Yao’s hands paused mid-motion before he lowered his head once more. “I had no choice.”
Had he not become a priest, he likely would have perished in that dark, freezing vault—turning to ash alongside the giant stone palace, consumed by the raging inferno, rather than sitting here speaking to the very man who had given the order to sack his home.
“What if you were given a choice?” Cody propped his head on his hand. He was never one to pry into pasts, yet today, he seemed oddly persistent about this question.
Lin Yao carefully excavated the fully bloomed Posuo Flower, wrapped its root system in a soft cloth, and placed it gently into a wooden chest. Four or five blooming flowers were already lying inside. After carefully placing the new one within and closing the lid, he presented the chest to Cody.
“Your Highness,” he murmured, “if Yao were merely a common man, I would not have the ability to serve you as I do now. Things are fine just as they are.”
Cody accepted the chest, offering neither agreement nor denial to his answer. He simply carried it with him, opened the carriage door, and stepped out.
Once the door clicked shut, Cody opened the chest and looked at the vibrant blossoms inside, his expression flickering with an unreadable emotion before returning to cold indifference.
A battlefield was no place for child’s play; it was a realm of slaughter, injury, and death.
Though a priest was not a physician, Lin Yao’s medical expertise was by no means inferior to that of a court doctor. Bandaging wounds, stitching flesh—his jade-like hands became stained with blood, yet countless lives were yanked back from the brink of death under his care.
However, once these soldiers recovered, they were bound to march straight back onto the battlefield.
Yet another city was conquered. Houses built of stone and brick held commoners dressed in coarse cloth, driven together like cattle. Facing the soldiers’ blood-stained blades, they quivered in terror, not daring to resist.
For the rulers who had once protected them were now the defeated.
The shifting of a kingdom’s rule—be it rise, fall, or ruin—was inevitably accompanied by bloodshed. As the old saying went: In prosperity, the people suffer; in ruin, the people suffer all the same.
Lin Yao gazed out through the carriage window. Un-dried blood was splashed across the cobblestones, and heavy sword marks scarred the surrounding walls. Bodies were being dragged away to be burned, leaving long, smeared trails of crimson across the earth.
“What are you looking at?” Cody rode alongside on horseback. His cloak was flecked with blood, and a residual, unsuppressed killing intent still clung to his form. Yet he viewed the grim scene along the street with utter detachment.
Lin Yao’s eyes held a quiet trace of sorrow. “What will become of them?”
Would they be reduced to slaves? Or would they be slaughtered to the last soul, just like his own people?
“Those who resist will be slain. Those who submit will become slaves.” Cody’s gaze swept over the huddled masses, a faint, mocking smile touching his lips as he met Lin Yao’s eyes. “Do you find me cruel?”
Priests served the divine; though their temperaments were naturally distant, they possessed a deep, inherent compassion for life. Scenes of such brutal bloodshed were intolerable to most of them.
Yet this was simply how the rise and fall of kingdoms worked.
Cody did not care what others thought of him. Countless souls had fallen by his blade; countless people worshipped and adored him, while just as many cursed his very existence. He paid no mind to their opinions. Yet, inexplicably, he found himself wanting to know how this young priest viewed him.
“No, I do not,” Lin Yao held onto the window frame, looking at him earnestly. “I understand Your Highness. Though they are pitiable, for Onassis, this is the correct course of action.”
For one side to rise, the other had to be sacrificed. A conqueror’s throne appeared glorious, but it was paved atop mountains of bones. Today it was another who fell; tomorrow, it might well be themselves.
“Yao, if you were in my position, you would make an exceptional king,” Cody remarked, a flicker of surprise passing through his eyes. Reaching out, he slid the carriage window shut. “Stop looking. There is nothing out there worth seeing.”
Listening to the noise outside the carriage, Lin Yao pondered the man’s final look. For a fleeting moment, he had almost suspected the prince had seen through his identity.
“Take this medicine three times a day,” Lin Yao instructed the wounded soldier before him.
Having occupied the city, the army needed time to rest and resupply. Lin Yao was settled in the local governor’s mansion, though his work healing the wounded continued uninterrupted.
His slender, fair hand retrieved a pill and offered it forward. The soldier reached out, but the moment he took the medicine, he suddenly grabbed Lin Yao’s hand in a tight grip.
Lin Yao raised his head, loosening his fingers to pull away, causing the pill to roll onto the floor. Yet the soldier’s rough, calloused hand held fast. The man stared at Lin Yao with an unhinged, feverish obsession: “High Priest, I love you passionately! Can you feel my devotion?”
“Let go!” Lin Yao barked sternly, backing away in alarm as the man threw himself forward desperately.
Yet a priest’s body was pampered and frail. Before he could take more than two steps, Lin Yao tripped over his own long robes and tumbled to the ground. The soldier pinned down his hem, pressing frantic kisses onto the fabric like a man driven mad.
At that critical moment, the guards standing outside heard the commotion and burst in. Subduing the treacherous soldier, they slammed his face hard into the floorboards.
Yet the man continued to scream with bloodshot eyes: “I love you, High Priest! You saved my life—I would gladly lay down my life for you!”
“Attempting to desecrate the High Priest makes you a sinner of Onassis! Your sin-stained soul shall be cleansed in sacred flames! Drag him away!” At the guard captain’s command, several soldiers hauled off the man, who was still loudly shouting his declarations of love.
The captain then approached Lin Yao, extending a tentative, extremely cautious hand to assist him. “High Priest.”
Yet Lin Yao avoided his touch. Pressing his palms against the floor, he pulled himself up independently. “Thank you. I can manage on my own.”
Dust and soot clung to his pristine white robes. Even on the way back to his quarters in the mansion, his mood remained visibly shaken.
In his mind, the system tried to comfort him:
［Host, don’t be sad! If he actually tried to do anything to you, I would.］
［You would what?］
［I would help you curse him!］
Lin Yao’s lips twitched slightly:
［Then I truly must thank you.］
The system felt quite embarrassed:
［N-no problem!］
Such a useless system is completely unreliable, Lin Yao concluded for the hundred and eighth time.
When they arrived at his quarters, his steps down from the carriage were unsteady, almost hurried.
Back in the royal palace, even with servants around, he hadn’t been able to prevent the Second Prince’s deliberate advances. Here, he was being lusted after by a soldier whose life he had personally saved.
Distraught and unmoored, Lin Yao stepped into his bedchamber, tripping over his hem once more due to his haste. Just as he instinctively reached out to brace his fall, he found himself caught in a firm embrace.
The traumatic memory from moments ago resurfaced, and in a panic, he tried to push the person away. Yet he was locked tight within a pair of powerful arms, unable to budge. A familiar voice sounded from above:
“Yao, calm down.”
Lin Yao looked up. Upon seeing the familiar face, he let out a subtle sigh of relief. Regaining his balance, he tried his best to compose himself. “Your Highness, why are you here?”
The arms loosened, and Lin Yao took a step back, feeling his cheeks grow uncomfortably warm. The embrace just now had reminded him of what the prince had done the night before setting out on campaign.
Yet unlike his reaction to that soldier, his heart felt no aversion—instead, it harbored a faint, terrifying trace of joy.
Was he truly a scandalous priest deep down?
His eyes flickered with a subtle, evasive dodge. Cody turned, sitting down casually on a floor cushion with one leg propped up, imposing and relaxed. Scrutinizing the youth before him, he said, “I heard about what happened tonight. You don’t need to be afraid. He will be executed publicly tomorrow.”
Lin Yao’s body trembled slightly. He looked up. “He didn’t do anything. It was merely an impulse. I—”
The man’s sharp, piercing gaze cut off Lin Yao’s words instantly. “Anyone who offends a priest possesses a filthy soul. They must be burned to death to serve as a warning to the masses.”
“But the gods love all living beings. He is a life, after all.” Lin Yao didn’t know how to express it, but he genuinely did not want anyone dying because of him.
The gods love all living beings? Cody stared at the young priest. The youth viewed the world with a natural, pristine purity; he understood grand principles, yet could not shed his soft-hearted nature—foolish, yet strangely endearing.
“Come here,” Cody gestured.
Lin Yao hesitated for a moment before kneeling beside him, lowering his eyes submissively, looking as though he would obey whatever was said.
A broad hand caught his chin, tilting his face up. Cody leaned in slowly, chuckling as he watched the youth’s hand hover awkwardly—wanting to push him away, yet not daring to make contact.
“Yao, that man today committed his desecration in public, so he was apprehended. But do you know how many men have wanted to crawl into your carriage in the dead of night since the day we set out? Do you know how many wanted to sneak into your bed, pull open your collar, and take you so thoroughly you wouldn’t even be able to cry out? Once you lose your divine priest power, what fate do you think awaits a fragile, helpless beauty like you in a place like this?”
His fingers slid down the youth’s chin, coming to rest at his delicate, exquisite throat. The rapid swallowing motion beneath his touch revealed just how terrified the little priest was.
Yet Cody wanted him to understand: useless kindness was a liability. The very people he saved harbored dark, lustful thoughts toward him. If excessive adoration and worship were not strictly suppressed, they would mutate into a very different emotion—an emotion that made Cody feel infuriated, making him want to chop every single one of those men into pieces.
“Rest well,” Cody withdrew his hand, patted Lin Yao’s shoulder, and stood up. Yet as he turned to leave, a gentle tug held fast to his hem.
The young priest looked up, his eyes shimmering with unshed tears and desperate pleading: “Your Highness, could you stay?”
His body was visibly trembling, thoroughly terrified by the scenario Cody had just described.
Cody bent down, letting out a low, dark chuckle. “Yao, do you realize that I am a man as well?”
“What?” Lin Yao gripped his hem tightly, as if clinging to a final lifeline.
“It seems you truly don’t understand,” Cody leaned down, scooping the youth by the waist and pulling him effortlessly into his chest. Whispering near that jade-white ear, he murmured softly, “Men are drawn to beauty, and they are especially terrible at controlling their desires. Even if I do not love you, I would still take you. Do you understand?”
Lin Yao’s body shuddered. He murmured as if trying to convince himself: “I trust Your Highness.”
“Where do you get such confidence?” Cody released him, his hand gripping the hilt of his sword tightly—almost too tightly. “I don’t even trust myself.”
It wasn’t merely because of the youth’s physical beauty, but that look in his eyes—an expression that seemed to confess deep devotion at every waking moment. It genuinely made one want to reach out, to touch him, to see just how exquisite his expression would be when he surrendered completely beneath him.
“Rest early. You are my person, so naturally, I will protect your safety.” Cody turned and departed, his golden hair swaying as he left without a single moment of hesitation.
Lin Yao watched his retreating back, his mind in complete disarray, unable to conceal the frantic pounding of his heart. He sat frozen on the mat for a long time before finally remembering to extinguish the light and lie down to sleep.
Tossing and turning through the night, what should have been a terrifying evening filled his mind with blushing, racing thoughts whenever he recalled the man’s words.
He said he would yet he refrained.
Fulfilling desire was indulgence, but love was restraint. A man capable of restraint was truly—
［Host, falling in love is really not recommended! Although he’s ridiculously handsome and my little heart is still going thump-thump-thump. Sigh, if he weren’t the target, falling in love with him would actually be pretty nice.］
［Mmh. He’s encrusted with diamonds—can’t afford it.］
Lin Yao rolled over again, trying his best to suppress a yawn so he wouldn’t fall asleep right away.
That tactic of “I want to take you, yet I restrain myself for your sake” was indeed designed to make a naive little priest fall deeper in love. Unfortunately for Cody, Lin Yao had seen right through it, even if his system had completely fallen for it. It seemed the prince’s seductive methods were remarkably effective.
The system had no money, so the system shut its mouth.