The Eighth Progenitor Somerset Marquis instinctively took half a step back, tensing the muscles throughout his body.
But Duke Lasha'er of the Third Progenitor fixed him with a gloomy stare.
"..."
The Third Progenitor Lasha'er once again turned his gaze toward the Pope.
They were all certain that the Holy Plant Pope should have fallen below the Ninth Tier and reached the end of humanity's brief lifespan.
An old Pope of merely the Eighth Tier had come alone to Blood Moon City. There was no doubt he had come to die.
Lan Keluos should have been carrying despair in his heart, fighting several of them, then having his crystalline body shattered and his body cut down to half its original length. He should have been carved into an ugly human pig, held up for public humiliation, forced to see that the sacrifices of those insects had all been meaningless, and then ended his incapable life in despair.
He should not—and could not—still be in peak condition far beyond what he had been four years ago!
This was completely different from Helitier's divination results.
"Your Holiness, could there be some misunderstanding between us?"
Duke Lasha'er of the Third Progenitor shifted his gaze toward the distant Pope. His youthful voice had also grown much more solemn as he questioned him.
"You want to reconcile?"
Lanchi asked in surprise.
"Of course."
The Third Progenitor Lasha'er nodded sincerely.
Helitier's divination could not be wrong. The fact that the Pope had survived until now was already a miracle. The end of his life was an unchangeable fact. At most, in a few more days, the Pope would surely be buried.
Three years ago, when they had created the illusion of peace and reached a surrender compromise, the Pope had not been this strong. He could