As for the second question, Honma answered far too quickly.
His answer came almost at the same time as the surroundings began to change.
The emptiness of the pure white space silently melted away like snow.
The spectacular transition matched his tone of voice perfectly.
Most importantly, when the white vanished, the table of delicacies from before still did not return.
In its place stood a long table that was only slightly less white, its surface shimmering with an unusual sheen.
Farther away were seats, an altar, and, at the center, a huge emblem that looked remarkably familiar: it was shaped just like the Finger Ball in Honma's hand.
This spacious place, where almost everything was the same color, was unmistakably a house of worship of moderate size.
At a glance, nearly every inch of it seemed to exude holiness and purity, untouched by defilement.
What left the strongest impression was the snow-white drapery that encircled the entire building, hanging in layers from the dome.
It covered every radiating round window and even stretched inward, hanging neatly in a special arrangement, smooth as silk—or rather, it was silk.
One look was enough to tell that this dreamlike, hazy scene was made of strands that seemed to be straightened hair, all pure white without a trace of any other color.
For a moment, it gave the impression that a face was leaning down to gaze warmly at you.
Combined with Honma's solemn declaration of "the White-Headed Holy See," the atmosphere was truly at its peak.
"Not bad."
Even Fu Qian couldn't help praising the magnificent sight.
Aside from asking questions, he had also gestured for Ji Liushuang to release the Heart-Questioning Sword Prison.
He just hadn't expected the two things to work together so perfectly.
The reason he'd done this was