Time ticked by, second after second.
The Flame Demon Emperor, who had been flaunting his power moments ago, gradually quieted down, becoming silent and cautious, as if ready to flee at the slightest disturbance.
The order had yet to arrive, yet the tension remained hanging overhead.
Lageluonasi, from initial calm, gradually became agitated, and finally a flood of retreating emotions surged within him.
A warrior should face death without fear—but to fall in a place like this, wouldn’t that be too stifling?
“Alright, alright.”
Finally, Lageluonasi spoke first, trying to ease the tense atmosphere.
“You’re quite unreasonable. It was clearly your side that violated the agreement first.”
Hearing a Flame Demon try to “reason” with him, Caesar’s face, cold as winter, almost couldn’t hold.
He didn’t take the offered step; instead, he went further, using a rather overbearing tone:
“Under the rule of the Empire, you shall obey the Empire’s laws and accept the Empire’s rules. This is the Royal Capital, not your First Demon Realm.”
“I’ve killed the man and overturned the table. So what now? At most, I’ll pay some compensation.”
The charred, blurry body of the Flame Remains made a very human-like shrug of resignation.
“Fine.”
Caesar agreed.
Human life could be measured in money, and noble crimes could be atoned with money—that too was part of the Empire’s rules.
As long as his authority was respected, he had no reason to refuse.
“But I also want what I am owed.”
Lageluonasi’s voice gradually turned cold.
“Someone killed my believer. Damn it, that was the one I cultivated the longest and most useful.”
His voice turned from cold to angry, his temper flaring heavier.
Lageluonasi flew into a rage: “Damn it! That damned bug! And he humiliated me with Light Magic! Humiliated the great Flame Demon Emperor! I want him dead! No—I want—”
“Anyone below viscount, go ahead. Viscount and above, you must report to me. Don’t cause too big a commotion in the Imperial Capital, or all promises are void.”
Caesar calmly drew a line.
“Don’t worry, I know the rules.”
Lageluonasi grinned.
Caesar nodded and left without wasting any time, pulling off the gauntlet on his right hand.
Bone spurs retracted one by one, the scarlet patterns faded, and the suppression within the cave dissipated.
Suddenly, flames erupted from the surface of the Flame Remains.
The Undying Flame blazed fiercely, once again turning into a towering giant that blotted out the sky and sun.
But immediately after, the flames began to shrink from expansion, turning from orange-red to deep blue, finally shrinking to less than two meters in size before stopping.
Lageluonasi draped himself in a magical cloak that concealed his form and appearance, swaggered out of the cave, and rode the Demon Well to the surface.
The Imperial Capital.
At that time, the Old City District Church was holding a new round of commendation ceremony.
However, this time, the only recipient was Joen alone.
When presenting the Judgment Knight Medal to Joen, Icot tried one last time.
With a gentle and kind expression, he said to Joen:
“Knight Joen, keep it up. I appreciate your ability. In the future, there will definitely be a seat for you as Vice Commander of the Knight Order.”
“No need.”
Joen took the medal, stared at the engraved emblem of the Goddess on it, and from the depths of his eyes, four parts mocked himself, six parts mocked others.
After fiddling with it for a few seconds, he looked up at Icot and said:
“The position of Vice Commander is too big. I wouldn’t dare sit in it. I’m afraid that if I sit down, I’ll end up in cahoots with you.”
These words were extremely rude, practically a slap across Icot’s face.
But Icot held back, his smile still in place:
“It’s unfortunate that due to my work errors, I’ve caused you to develop so many prejudices against me. May the Goddess resolve the misunderstanding between you and me, righteous child.”
“If it’s a misunderstanding, why rely on the Goddess?”
Joen raised an eyebrow and retorted.
He directly placed his current confrontational stance with Icot out in the open, making it public.
“Because the Goddess is merciful, child.”
Icot stared at Joen’s face for a long time, then dropped this line, shook hands with Joen with a fake smile, and completed the remaining procedures.
After the commendation ceremony ended, the other knights’ attitudes toward Joen had shifted from the earlier “coldness” to “hostility” and “anger.”
Lebron even stormed up angrily, glaring at Joen.
“Enough! Bishop Icot didn’t provoke you at all! He treated you gently and generously throughout! How could you talk to him like that?”
“Joen, I really regret knowing you… knowing such an ungrateful person. If it weren’t for Bishop Icot earning extra money for the church, where would we have the good life we have today? A traitor, stooping to such ingratitude just to climb up.”
Joen silently took the key and walked toward the Underground Tribunal.
Only at the door did he turn around, a complex expression suddenly on his face.
“Lebron, a few days ago, you said something different.”
“At that time, you said Bishop Icot was greedy and sly, that our Old City District Church pursued only material things, and that faith had vanished.”
Lebron’s face stiffened, and he was speechless, because he had indeed said that.
But… was it the same?
Back then, he was just a miserable, tight-fisted apprentice knight, not qualified to share the money everyone earned; yet he had to share in the evil everyone did.
Out of jealousy toward senior knights, saying some rebellious words criticizing church governance—wasn’t that normal?
Now, he was far more sensible and had a broader perspective, fully able to understand Bishop Icot’s difficulties.
That had nothing to do with him becoming a full knight or getting more money—it was purely a rise in his level of thinking.
“Joen, you’re too extreme. Don’t make everyone lose face!”
Lebron first scolded harshly.
“I know you’re angry, but… aren’t we good friends?”
Seeing Joen ignore him, he started playing the emotional card, earnestly persuading:
“I just got promoted to full knight. I haven’t even enjoyed a single day of prestige. I’m begging you, I’m begging you—leave us alone! What good does it do you to harm us?”
Joen still remained silent.
He had already opened the gate to the Tribunal.
Creak—
The sunlight that shot in from the surface and bounced off the stairwell again and again finally poured into this ancient, heavy, endless hell that was always sealed with cold chains.
Joen walked straight toward the archive where files were stored.
Lebron’s expression changed slightly.
Angry and sorrowful, his voice gradually turned sharp as a blade:
“Enough! That’s enough! Joen, what’s the point of doing this? Even if you overturn their cases, so what? Do you think they’ll be grateful to you? Do you think the Goddess will see your merits?”
“I don’t understand. I really don’t understand. Joen, why do you do so many stubborn, harmful things that don’t benefit anyone?!”
He screamed at Joen, his voice growing hoarser and more pained.
In the end, when Joen pulled out a large book of old files from the red cabinet, Lebron choked up and wept, holding his head.
Joen ignored Lebron’s half-mad, half-wailing voice.
Only at the end did he look up at Lebron, a hint of pity in his eyes.
“You know, don’t you?”
Joen asked back.
Lebron’s body trembled; he didn’t respond, nor did he continue crying.
Joen flipped through the files, speaking one sentence after another, not looking at Lebron.
But the knife in his words was all aimed at that “fellow rogue” immersed in pain.
“Actually, you’ve always known what I’m after. It’s also what you once wanted to pursue, right?”
“But you bowed to reality. You accepted the logic passed around by the knights around you, even though you yourself also found it absurd. You taught it to me over and over again, trying to convince yourself too, right?”
“You’re afraid I’ll expose the truth. You’re afraid of losing that last fig leaf. You don’t want to be a bad person, but you don’t dare be a good person. Isn’t it nice having a cloth to cover it? That’s what you think thankfully—covering your eyes so you can ignore it, fool yourself, right?”
“No! No!”
Stumbling to his feet, Lebron jerked his head up.
“No! You’re wrong! You’re wrong!”
He almost roared it out, his eyes red, bloodshot.
“No!”
He stretched out a trembling finger, pointing at Joen.
“Who do you think you are? What right do you have to judge me like this?”
“You’re noble! Yeah, how noble you are! One move and you earn what I can’t make in a lifetime! Two pretty girls and an elf hovering around you! You look down on these trifles, but me? I care about them!”
“You have everything.”
“You mock me—me, who has nothing, and still pretend to be so innocent.”
“You’re ridiculous.”
“You’re ridiculous, Joen.”