Yu Xing was a little curious.
He sat by the window, appearing to rest, but secretly extended a wisp of perception so fine it was nearly invisible, like ripples spreading across water, toward the Archbishop's office.
His perception carefully skirted the holy barriers and warding runes along the way, like the stealthiest shadow, silently seeping back into the book-lined room.
Then his eyes "opened" on a branch, and he saw what was happening in the office—
The Archbishop wasn't sitting at his desk, which was piled with documents and other objects.
He had already opened the painting tube and apparently examined the painting, which still carried traces of contamination from the stars. But judging by his expression, the Archbishop was worthy of his position among the True God Church's upper ranks: the contamination had barely affected him.
Now the Archbishop was holding the painting, which radiated an ominous, boundless aura, and walking steadily toward a huge bookcase on the far side of the office. It looked ordinary and was set into the stone wall.
Yu Xing followed him with his gaze.
The Archbishop shifted the painting to one hand and reached out with his free left hand. Rather than take a book, he pressed his palm against an inconspicuous wooden relief on the side of the bookcase, carved with a delicate pattern of wheat ears.
He murmured a short prayer in an ancient cadence.
As the final syllable fell, the enormous bookcase silently rotated inward around its central axis, like a heavy stone door swinging open, revealing a hidden space behind it.
Well, look at that.
There was a secret room after all.
A mixture of the scents of old spices and candle wax, along with something far more ancient and tranquil, wafted out from beyond the door. It was