23 I Am So Desperate for Advancement! (Please Follow for Updates!)

"An act of blasphemy!!?"

The moment he heard those words, Herbert’s heart hammered against his ribs. His blood seemed to freeze, and his entire body coiled with sudden, sharp tension.

*Thump-thump!*

As his heart raced, his consciousness accelerated, frantically analyzing the situation: What did the Bishop of Thorns mean by this question? He wouldn’t try to bait me without reason; there must be a motive. What has the Bishop discovered? Is he suspicious of me? Could it be that some trace of residue still lingers on me? Is it Nienasha’s magic sigil? Freme’s iridescent scales? Valentina’s hair? Or perhaps… no.

Don't panic!

The opponent hasn’t made his move yet; I cannot lose my footing first. He shouldn’t have any evidence. If he truly had absolute proof—no, even if he had the vaguest of clues—he wouldn't be playing these games. He would have apprehended me for interrogation immediately! This is merely a surprise probe. So, what is he trying to extract from me?

Herbert pondered, then suddenly felt a sense of dissonance. Wait. Something is wrong… Why am I so nervous? Given my psychological fortitude, I shouldn't be behaving this pathetically.

*Sshhh—*

"...Huh!?"

As soon as that realization struck him, it was like piercing a thin, hazy membrane over his consciousness. His thoughts snapped back into clarity. In a single instant, Herbert’s mind regained its absolute composure.

He checked his senses again and felt a faint warmth on the back of his hand—his holy mark and the magic sigil had both flared briefly. They had activated passively after being triggered by external interference.

Someone is trying to manipulate my thoughts!

That person must know something about the "Blessing of Purity," as they deliberately bypassed it to strike directly at my soul.

Although it lasted only for a fleeting moment, they had succeeded. At the very least, they caused enough interference to make Herbert nervous and desperate to blurt out his secrets. However, the attacker had not accounted for the fact that Herbert possessed more than one layer of defense.

Not only would his Holy Vows protect the purity of his spirit, but his pact with the Evil God also rendered his will even more ironclad. Furthermore, even if those two layers were breached, Herbert possessed a third insurance policy—the Affection of the Siren Queen. One of the effects of this epic-grade curse was to grant him immunity to external mental manipulation.

One could say that the toughest thing about Herbert right now wasn't his manhood, but his soul—it was so reinforced that it would trigger the alarm at an airport security checkpoint.

However, although Herbert had shaken off the mental interference, the crisis was far from over. Because the magic sigil and the curse were things he could never speak of, he had no way to explain why he hadn't been compromised! The only way forward was to play along and act out the situation.

Though all these thoughts raced through his mind, only a few breaths had passed in reality. During those few seconds, Herbert’s expression shifted several times—from blank confusion to deep contemplation, and finally, to righteous indignation.

He was angry!

"An act of blasphemy?"

Herbert raised his head, looking at the Bishop of Thorns with a grave expression, and said in a low voice, "Do you mean to say that a monk within the monastery has fallen!!?"

"You, could it be that…"

He stared at the Bishop in shock, his expression shifting again. Every change was caught by the Bishop, who gave a slight shake of his head.

*So guilty. He truly is…*

Just as the Bishop of Thorns sighed inwardly, convinced that Herbert was indeed hiding something, the white-haired youth finished his sentence. He shouted with fervor, "Do you intend to entrust this matter to me to handle!!?"

Bishop of Thorns: ?

What did he say? Entrust what to him?

The Chief Inquisitor was successfully plunged into confusion by Herbert’s mysterious performance, starting to doubt his own judgment. But Herbert’s act continued, growing more convincing as he found his rhythm.

"Your Excellency, Chief Inquisitor!"

"Please, you must grant me this task!"

Herbert strode forward, ignoring the sharp thorns protruding from the Bishop’s robes. With a face full of unyielding determination, he grabbed the Bishop’s large hand, exclaiming passionately, "Believe in me! I swear on the honor of the House of Albert, even if I have to shed the blood of the Shining Silver Wings, I will capture that fallen one!"

"Please, you must give me a chance to prove myself!"

Having said that, he gazed longingly at the visibly stiffened Inquisitor. *My lord, please give me a chance! I am just so eager to advance!*

"…Uh, wait a moment, hold on."

The Bishop of Thorns was overwhelmed by the scene, leaning back awkwardly in an attempt to avoid the overly intense gaze. *Is this… is this right?*

He tried to pull his right hand back, but it was held fast by Herbert’s grip, making it impossible to break free. Of course, with his strength, he could easily snap Herbert’s hand bones to force a release, but he couldn't bear to harm such an exceptionally talented sprout.

He simply couldn't bring himself to do it.

Yes, he couldn't bear it. Before this, Herbert was just a peculiar young noble in his eyes, someone he assumed would eventually break his vows and leave. But after this display, the image of Herbert in his mind had changed entirely.

Hatred of evil, fearlessness in the face of wickedness, willingness to sacrifice—every quality he displayed was vital for a Paladin. This youth would at least be a legendary Paladin of the future! If the opportunity arose, he might even become an epic-level powerhouse!

For a Paladin, talent in cultivation was important, but far less so than strength of will. How many people could one find who possessed a heart without shadow and a single-minded devotion to eradicating evil!? Herbert must not be allowed to falter!

"Heh, child, you’ve misunderstood."

Having made up his mind, the Bishop of Thorns chuckled. He patted Herbert’s shoulder gently with his left hand, dispelling the lingering interference from others.

"No one among our brethren in the monastery has fallen. I was merely conducting a routine inquiry. You need not worry."

Herbert shook his head with a "blank" expression, blinked, and asked with uncertainty, "Your Excellency, really? Please do not deceive me. I truly am capable…"

"There is truly no one." The Bishop shook his head, looking slightly helpless. "Very well, go on now. Return and get some rest."

His tone carried a hint of command, and even if Herbert "wanted to insist," he had no choice but to obey. He bowed honestly and departed.

After he left, the smile vanished from the Bishop’s face. He looked coldly toward the shadows on the side and said indifferently, "…Are you satisfied with this result?"

From the shadows, the figure of the Bishop of Rusty Nails emerged. His expression remained unchanged as he looked calmly at the Bishop of Thorns and said slowly:

"Those are the rules."