Chapter 137: Such People

  "Your ears are quite sharp." The man's smile still looked peculiar, but his voice was sharp, like a knife.

  "Ears? Why don't you come feel them?" Jessica not only stepped out but walked over. The smile on her face was sweet as sugar—the kind laced with aphrodisiac spices—emitting an aura that could pluck the most subtle, sensitive, hidden string in one's heart. She seemed to say nothing, yet that smile could make one imagine everything. She didn't just approach; she sat directly beside the man, lifting his hand and placing it on her face.

  The touch was as smooth and delicate as silk. She guided his hand into her silky black hair, sliding toward the position of her ear.

  The man paused because he felt nothing. Where her ears should have been, there was only smooth scar tissue around the ear holes. He had deliberately kept his voice low, and he knew the positions of everyone else, including this woman. Even a werewolf's ears couldn't have heard his voice clearly, let alone someone who barely had ears.

  "I saw it. I read lips." The woman placed her hand on his shoulder, lifted her leg, and straddled him. Her voice was hot, sweet, and husky, like boiling sugar syrup.

  "Oh, so your eyesight is excellent then," the man smiled. He didn't pull his hand back; instead, he slid it further back until his fingers rested on the first vertebra of her cervical spine. This was an absolutely fatal spot. With a single burst of force, the effect would be similar to decapitation—faster than a knife to the heart.

  Whether she heard or saw it, it couldn't have been just that one sentence. And if those words reached others, while it might not necessarily ruin things, it certainly wouldn't be beneficial.

  "My eyesight isn't the only thing that's excellent. You'll find out soon enough..." She began to pant lightly, seemingly paying no mind to the hand at her neck that could end her life at any moment. Her waist, straddling his legs, began to twist. Her chest pressed against his. The tight-fitting outfit wasn't thick, allowing the subtle firmness beneath to be clearly felt. She moved slowly, grinding against him, her panting turning into moans.

  "I suggest you stop," the man's voice remained cold. His fingers tightened slightly. "I'm not accustomed to having someone I don't know crawling all over me."

  "You say that, but your body tells a different story..." The woman, straddling his waist, twisted her slender waist. Her round, perky buttocks pressed down, then thrust upward, producing a soul-stirring sound—indistinguishable between a gasp, a moan, or a laugh. Her hand slid into his clothes, caressing and squeezing his firm muscles. Panting and trembling, she said, "Rest assured. Since I dared say this to you, I never intended to hinder you... I don't care what you're doing... I just want you... You're so strong..."

  Elves were already exceedingly rare on the Enlos continent, and Drow—the aberrant kind among elves—were even rarer, found almost only in stories. According to ancient legends, this race descended from ordinary elves who abandoned light and fell into darkness, transformed into beings dwelling in the subterranean shadows. Compared to their night vision that was as clear as day in darkness, their silver-white hair, and dark skin, the deepest and most profound impression Drow left on people was likely their uninhibited passion—or licentiousness, in the words of the more prudish. This trait, combined with the race having more females than males, made many perceive them as a purely female tribe in the eyes of many.

  This predominantly female race, perhaps to ensure their survival over long ages, had developed the instinct of desire into a culture, an art. The naked pursuit by female Drow of those who stirred their hearts was enough to drive most men insane.

  "But why is your hair black? And your eyes too..." The man hesitated, looking at her silky black hair. All Drow had silver hair.

  Jessica's lips were already at the man's ear. Her wet, soft, small tongue probed into his ear, teeth gently nibbling as she murmured indistinctly, "Since your face can be fake, why can't my hair be..." Her voice, mixed with the damp warmth of her breath, was intoxicating, seeming to seep into his pores, intoxicating his very bones. Her teeth caught something on his face and pulled sharply. A mask was torn away.

  The man abruptly flipped her over, pressing her beneath him. His fingernails had already sunk into the flesh of her neck. If she had shown the slightest sign of killing intent, her head would have been severed before her body could move.

  She seemed to feel no pain or anything else. Her large, dark eyes gleamed with a dark light in the dim room. Seeing the face just revealed from beneath the mask, they burned with intoxication and excitement. Her hand touched that face—familiar to nearly everyone on the continent, etched in many memories. She whispered hoarsely, "I knew it... you must be much more handsome than in the portraits. No matter how lifelike the painting, it lacks your essence, that of a true man..."

  "You're playing with fire," Ethan said coldly, looking down at the Drow beneath him. From a human perspective, she was undoubtedly a rare beauty. "To directly reveal my identity, and let me know you know my secret—do you have a death wish?"

  "Death is something one brings upon oneself. Since I dared say it to your face, I'm not afraid... Do you know... when I saw your wanted poster, I knew this must be an incredibly strong man... The highest bounty and most dangerous fugitive in the continent's history... Seeing you these past two days, I sensed it must be you... Who else could have such an aura, such wildness... Do you know... just your scent excites me..." Her hand continued to probe deeper into Ethan's clothes. Her legs unconsciously wrapped around his waist. "Kill me if you must... but please, do it afterward... To die at the hands of such a man... what's there to regret..."

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  Ethan looked at Jessica's face, inches away. He inhaled the scent emanating from her, felt the touch of her body against his, every soul-stirring friction. In truth, his blood had long boiled like magma. A massive, frantic impulse rampaged within him, sustained only by willpower maintaining clarity. His hand unconsciously left the back of her neck, sliding into her clothes as he murmured, "Such a woman... why kill..." His final words too became a gasp. He seized her clothes and tore fiercely.

  A loud ripping sound. The female elf beneath him cried out in extreme excitement, her entire body convulsing with thrill.

  Celeste.

  This place, originally just a vast mountainous region, had been the Church's central sanctuary for over two hundred years. At that time, the King of Erathia had granted this land to the Church, funding it with countless resources and gold to establish what remained the most magnificent and greatest structure: the Church's headquarters, The Radiant Citadel.

  Constructed entirely of white marble, The Radiant Citadel bathed in sunlight. Its size, more majestic and vast than any emperor's palace, proclaimed the supreme majesty of the Lord. The white marble reflected the sunlight, casting a hazy interplay of white and gold in the surrounding clouds, as if the entire castle were steeped in the sacred radiance of white magic.

  Sacred, magnificent, majestic. The Radiant Citadel seared these three concepts directly into the souls of the believers who beheld it. Even unbelievers or devil-worshipping heretics couldn't help but feel awe and reverence when facing it.

  The Radiant Citadel's teleportation array was built in the center of the square. There were no specially assigned guards for the array. Or rather, it was unnecessary. Everyone who could walk here was at least a high-level mage, along with dozens of Templars and Temple Knights whose names resounded across the continent. This place was more solemn and sacred than anywhere, yet also safer than anywhere.

  The teleportation array's glow brightened. A young warrior appeared within it.

  The warrior was young, handsome, valiant, and striking. His golden hair was cropped short to about an inch; if grown longer, it would surely shine like flowing sunlight. But this short hair, while not radiant, exuded an effortless, relaxed aura. His sapphire-blue eyes were pure as gemstones, yet a closer look revealed a depth as boundless as the ocean. A natural, easy smile graced his lips, showing no discord with the solemn dignity around him; instead, it seemed to add a touch of vitality to the environment. Anyone seeing such a young man would feel comfortable, at ease.

  The warrior stepped down from the teleportation array. A passing priest smiled and nodded to him: "The Lord bless you, Templar. Has your mission been completed?"

  "By the Lord's grace, the savage nomads were no match," the young Templar smiled and nodded in return. Fresh bloodstains marked his body, even in his hair and on his face. Yet, whether due to his naturally easygoing demeanor or the sacred atmosphere of The Radiant Citadel, they didn't seem conspicuous. "I hurried to report to Knight-Commander Lancelot. I hope I was first, heh heh."

  "Oh, Knight-Commander Lancelot is in a meeting with His Holiness the Pope and several bishops in the council chamber. You can wait in the great hall before it. Knight Talise is also there."

  "Oh? Knight Talise returned so quickly? I thought I'd be first," the Templar smiled wryly and scratched his head.

  The great hall was empty. In the adjacent council chamber, His Holiness the Pope and the bishops were holding a meeting. Only the female Temple Knight, Talise, was facing the altar in quiet repentance. The sound of footsteps startled her. She turned and bowed to the newcomer: "The Lord be with you, Warrior Javi."

  "The Lord be with you too, Knight Talise," the Templar returned a perfectly proper gesture, as pious and well-mannered as an old priest who had lived in Celeste for decades. "I didn't expect you to arrive before me. I thought I was the fastest."

  "By that account, have you already eliminated those nomads harassing The Duchy of Castelli?" the female knight sounded surprised. "That... was the most difficult task Lord Lancelot issued. Originally intended as a trial for promotion to Temple Knight. You completed it in such a short time..."

  "It was all the Lord's protection. The bodies of those heretics crumbled before the sword of the Lord's radiance like worthless paper," the Templar's tone was generous and at ease, yet displayed sufficient humility.

  Talise could only marvel. Though this young warrior currently held only the rank of Templar, it was solely due to his lack of seniority. In terms of ability, he was undoubtedly her superior. From the moment Bishop Adela discovered him, in just one or two months since entering Celeste, he had demonstrated extraordinary strength and talent. He could truly be considered a genius warrior unseen in Celeste for a century.

  Not just a genius warrior, but he excelled in every aspect. He had completely snatched away the halo that had once shone on Talise, the youngest Temple Knight.

  Despite this, Talise felt no jealousy or hostility toward him. She was purely, thoroughly admiring and appreciative. What he radiated wasn't just excellence, but more so a captivating charm.

  "The remaining resettlement work has been handed over to the duchy's forces. I wanted to return early to claim first place. Who would have thought..." The Templar smiled, revealing a row of pearly white teeth that radiated his youthful vigor. "Unexpectedly, you arrived first. Truly worthy of being the personal disciple of the youngest Temple Knight."

  "I... I..." Talise's handsome face flushed red. Gathering her courage, she managed, "I failed."

  "Ah?" The Templar appeared utterly astonished. "How could that be... Weren't you with Bishop Eschol in Erathia? The situation there wasn't perilous."

  "It was all my fault. I have brought shame upon the honor of a Temple Knight. The radiance of this Radiant Battleplate upon me has dimmed. I came to report my failure to Lord Lancelot and Bishop Eschol." The female knight bowed her head, speaking in a tone of repentance. "I was ordered to exterminate the thieves in Erathia, but in the end, I fled... No... I failed even to escape. I was actually captured by those thieves. Fortunately, a... a believer of the Lord risked everything to save me, otherwise..."

  The Templar frowned and asked, "Doesn't every knight carry several top-tier magical scrolls? Were you unwilling to use them?"

  "I used them. But... two elementals were destroyed by the opponent in a single strike..."

  "A single strike destroyed two elementals?" The Templar was stunned, but he quickly smiled again. "In that case, the failure of this battle wasn't your fault, but your opponent was too strong. That you escaped unscathed is precisely the Lord's protection. You shouldn't blame yourself."

  Looking at the smile opposite her, as warm and radiant as the morning sun, Talise unknowingly felt a bit lighter. Though strictly speaking, she was still his senior and held a higher rank, for some reason, she always felt much younger in his presence. She often felt an impulse to seek his guidance.

  The Templar frowned thoughtfully, then said to Talise, "May I presume to offer you some advice, Knight Talise? Your failure this time... is actually related to your proud and arrogant personality."

  His voice was gentle and pleasant, like a spring breeze, causing no discomfort. The female knight nodded quickly: "What do you mean by that?"

  "If you had been more cautious, using the elemental scrolls or the Light of the Prism to fight with full strength from the start, the outcome of that battle might have been uncertain. It was mainly because you looked down on these thieves from the beginning that led to your subsequent defeat." The Templar recalled, then revealed a brilliant smile. "I remember someone once said, 'Character determines everything.'"

  "Yes. I forgot the humility a knight should possess. I was wrong." The female knight thought for a moment, sighed and nodded, then frowned again. "Character determines everything? What a strange notion."

  "Because the person who said it is a very strange fellow," the Templar smiled again, as if recalling something. "By the way, about that person you mentioned... do you know anything else about him?"

  "This person is called Sandro," Talise said.

  "What?" The Templar froze.

  "You know this person?" Talise found it strange.

  "Impossible," the Templar chuckled, his smile brighter than the sun. "I was just thinking... such a person... truly interesting."

  Creak. The doors to the council chamber opened.

  The Templar said to Talise, "Come. I believe the bishops will also be interested in such a person."