The logs were arranged in a neat pyre, with the soldier from the previous night bound firmly in the center. Beside him, an executioner held a blazing torch as the man’s crimes were solemnly read aloud.
Yet the soldier continued to stare fixedly at Lin Yao, who sat upon the viewing platform, shouting at the top of his lungs: “High Priest! Even if I descend into hell, I will watch you from down there, gazing up at you. You shouldn’t be a priest—you belong in a man’s arms, held close and cherished. Haha! Hahaha! I will be watching you forever!”
With the man’s mouth spewing such vulgarities, Lin Yao turned his head away. Cody raised a hand and ordered, “Gag him.”
A strip of cloth was jammed into his mouth. By the time the torch set the pyre ablaze, he couldn’t even manage a scream. Only the crackling of dry wood burning in the flames and the stench of charred flesh drifted through the air, reminding every spectator that attempting to desecrate a priest carried consequences that were no laughing matter.
When the fire finally subsided, nothing remained but a pile of ash scattered by the wind until no trace was left. Yet the image of those raging flames seemed to settle deep within everyone’s heart.
Lin Yao watched until the very end. Beneath the silver mask, no one could discern his expression; they could only watch the pristine, cloud-white figure quietly depart.
Retching violently, Lin Yao leaned against a tree trunk in a secluded spot, vomiting until it felt as though his stomach would turn inside out. By the end, he could only heave up bitter, acidic gastric fluids.
Though he knew full well the man had brought this upon himself—and under such a regime, sacrilege was sacrilege, demanding absolute punishment—possessing the power to take a life at will did not mean one lost all reverence for it.
What a waste of a life, Lin Yao thought silently.
A light pat landed on his shoulder from behind. Reining in his emotions, he turned around, instinctively taking a step back upon seeing who it was. “Your Highness, you shouldn’t come to see me alone.”
The lingering sweetness from his restless thoughts last night had been shattered by the burning pyre today. Even if the man before him was a prince of Onassis who enjoyed the glory of a God of War, it did not mean he could defy certain sacred rules.
Although he hadn’t directly caused the man’s death, Lin Yao truly shouldn’t stand so close to the prince he supposedly admired.
“Are you afraid?” Cody looked at the evasive flicker in his eyes and stepped forward. “What are you afraid of?”
“Your Highness, I am not afraid,” Lin Yao paused, considering his words before raising his gaze. “It is simply that if Your Highness remains too close to me, it will invite scandal. I do not wish for your reputation to be ruined on my account.”
His eyes held pure sincerity, the faint trace of grievance and reluctance hidden beneath a shimmer of unshed tears.
Cody’s chest heaved slightly, almost unable to meet that gaze directly. After a long moment, he let out a low chuckle. “If this is what you wish, I shall grant it.”
A look of startled dismay crossed the young priest’s eyes as he watched the prince turn and walk away without a second thought.
The cloud-like white robes fluttered softly in the wind, making the figure standing alone look fragile and thin. He lowered his head, a single drop of liquid falling onto the dirt below, before he turned and departed as well.
If you love someone, you shouldn’t drag them into danger or make them endure the curses of others.
The rain began to fall in a steady drizzle, soaking the delicate, flowing robes and plastering them against his skin, splattered with mud.
He looked completely disheveled, yet upon returning to his quarters, the guards posted outside still looked at him with their usual reverence and devotion. However, when they stepped forward to inquire, they instinctively kept a respectful distance: “High Priest, are you all right?”
“I am fine,” Lin Yao pushed open the door and stepped inside. Despite his drenched state, he retained an air of quiet, ethereal detachment.
A bath of warm water washed away the cold.
He changed into dry robes, but water dripped continuously from his long hair onto the floor. The owner of the hair paid it no mind, sitting silently to one side with his head bowed—a stark contrast to his composure last night.
［Host, if you don’t dry your hair, you’ll catch a cold.］
Lin Yao didn’t move, communicating with the system in his mind instead: ［1325, do you think he’s playing hard-to-get, or does he genuinely not want me?］
［He didn’t even hesitate! It might be real! Don’t be sad, Host—we can always start over! Fighting! I’ll cheer for you!］
［Mmh. I picked up a book for you from the second-hand market. When you have nothing to do, you should read it carefully.］
［What book?］
［”How to Improve Your Emotional Intelligence.”］
System: ［??］
The system was deeply offended. The system decided not to speak to its host for three hours.
If left alone, wet hair would naturally dry in two or three hours anyway. Estimating that enough time had passed, Lin Yao lay down on his bed and went to sleep.
Since the prince wanted to play hard-to-get, Lin Yao naturally had to play his part to perfection. They would see who was the superior strategist.
Cody’s attitude toward Lin Yao visibly cooled, and the soldiers followed suit—maintaining absolute respect, but keeping their distance.
Yet these subtle emotional games were brushed aside when confronted by the reality of death on the battlefield.
City after city fell. Cody’s army seemed invincible, and his title as the God of War echoed louder than ever.
Until they clashed with the city-states of Venus, where they suffered an unprecedented, catastrophic defeat.
This land was vast and boundless, crowded with rival kingdoms. While Onassis was rising, Venus stood firm as a formidable power.
The smaller kingdoms had been unable to withstand the Onassis invasion, but Venus had prepared its defenses well in advance. Atop their towering stone walls, countless showers of arrows rained down, heavy logs fell, and boiling oil was poured over the attackers.
Even armor forged of refined steel could not shield them against such relentless defense tactics.
Lin Yao stood atop a carriage, gazing into the distance at the bloody carnage. The ground was stained crimson with blood. Even a calm and seasoned commander like Cody could only use his blade to deflect waves of stray arrows before declaring a retreat.
Yet in many places, it was already too late. Cody tumbled from his horse, desperately trying to rally his forces, only to watch helplessly as his soldiers were cut down one by one.
Stray arrows fell like rain. No matter how fast he swung his blade, numerous shafts grazed past, gouging marks into his ornate armor. One arrow slashed directly across his cheek, leaving a trail of blood winding down his face.
Just as the royal banner was shot down by an arrow, another shaft pierced directly through Cody’s chest. He propped himself up with the tip of his sword, kneeling on the ground. Had his personal guards not used their own bodies to block the remaining volley, he would have perished on the spot.
It was a humiliating rout. The once-mighty army fled like cornered dogs, abandoning their equipment, desperate only to survive under the enemy’s onslaught.
They fled for a long time before finally finding refuge in a reclaimed city. Basin after basin of bloody water was carried out of the prince’s quarters. The attending physicians gathered around the bed, but facing the arrow buried deep in his chest, every single one of them shook their heads.
“What should we do?”
“If we pull the arrow, he might bleed out instantly. We won’t be able to stop the hemorrhage.”
“The First Prince has always possessed a powerful physique. Perhaps he can endure removing it.”
“If something goes wrong, will you take the blame?”
“His previous injuries haven’t fully healed. If this triggers a relapse, no medicine on earth will save him.”
The physicians hesitated, staring at the fatal wound. A single misstep would cost the First Prince his life, turning them into sinners of the entire kingdom.
Blood trickled steadily from the entry point of the shaft. The man lying on the bed was deathly pale, his lips drained of color. His ornate armor was caked with mud and grass, yet in the face of impending death, no one thought to change him into clean clothes.
If left untreated, he would die here. In this chaotic era, he would be buried in some forgotten dirt, turning into a handful of dust—and Lin Yao’s mission would be complete.
Yet, just like the blade wound to Cody’s waist before, dying like this would not quell the burning hatred in Lin Yao’s chest. When his soul crossed into the next life, he would still remember his father pinned dead to the throne, his mother slicing her wrist to feed him her blood so he might live, and the countless peaceful citizens hunted down and slaughtered to the last soul.
Their wails would echo along his path to the afterlife.
Lin Yao pressed a hand to his chest, quelling the surging emotion, and spoke softly: “I will pull the arrow.”
“High Priest!” The physicians’ eyes turned to him in unison, filled with shock and anxiety, yet every one of them let out a subtle sigh of relief.
“If an accident occurs,” one physician began, leaving his thought unfinished.
Lin Yao cast a cold glance at him and said in a sharp voice, “If we do not pull the arrow, will His Highness live? Only by pulling it do we give him a slim chance of survival.”
He walked to the bedside and sat down, his eyes filled with grim determination. “His Highness is the God of War of Onassis. The gods will protect him and will not let him leave us so easily. If I fail to save His Highness today, I will offer my life to the gods in apology and accompany him in death.”
The physicians were stunned by his words, yet none disputed his resolve.
The tools were prepared. A polished dagger was sterilized over an open flame, wiped clean with spirits, and gripped firmly in Lin Yao’s hand. He made an incision around the arrow shaft—the arrowhead had already been snapped off when Cody fell.
Lin Yao’s slender hand gripped the remaining shaft. As everyone held their breath, he yanked it out in one swift motion.
Blood spattered onto his robes and splashed across his mask. The bloodied arrow was dropped into a basin, instantly staining the water a deep crimson.
Crushed styptic herbs were pressed firmly onto the wound, yet the blood gushed out incessantly, threatening to burst past the dressing.
The man on the bed merely let out a low, involuntary grunt as the arrow was pulled, looking as though he had lost all responsiveness.
Fine beads of sweat slid down Lin Yao’s face, dripping onto his collar. His entire body was tense as he laid layers of styptic herbs over the wound. Just as everyone was falling into despair, the bleeding finally began to slow.
Without taking the time to wipe the sweat from his face, Lin Yao called out in a trembling voice, “Bring the bandages quickly! Wrap the wound!”
Round after round of white cloth was wrapped tightly around Cody’s torso. Only when the final knot was secured did the physicians let out a collective sigh of relief.
Yet Lin Yao showed no joy. A physician leaned down to check the prince’s complexion and test his breathing.
His breath was faint, his face pale from severe blood loss. Though his life had been saved for the moment, if he remained unconscious like this, he might still slip away into the afterlife in his sleep.