York paid little attention to Old Chui-de's sarcastic mockery.
His expression shifted between light and dark as he evaluated the truth of the old man's words.
In the end, he let out a long sigh and flashed in front of Chuid. At the same time, he pulled two bottles of potions from his spatial ring and poured them straight into the old man's mouth.
Then he summoned the golden scale once more—but this time, only his own phantom stood upon it.
[Supreme Fate Magic: Equivalent Exchange]
A pillar of golden light instantly engulfed Old Chui-de. At the same time, the numbers above York's phantom began to drop rapidly.
As the numbers decreased, Old Chui-de's aura grew stronger and stronger. The price, however, was York's steadily weakening presence.
No one knew how much time passed.
When Old Chui-de finally opened his eyes, he saw York standing there, pale and exhausted, gripping the golden scale while gasping for breath.
He had broken through the bottleneck that had trapped him for hundreds of years.
He had reached the Saint Realm.
"Th-this… I actually succeeded! Someone as untalented as me became the first Saint in three thousand years besides my ancestor! Kekekekek…"
"Heh. A fake Saint who forced a breakthrough by borrowing someone else's mind-world. You really think you're something special?"
York's tone was merciless, venting the frustration of being tricked.
"Hurry up and hand over the Healing Witch."
"No rush."
"What? Are you going to back out?"
York's face turned fierce, killing intent flickering in his eyes.
"N-No, of course not."
Old Chui-de rubbed his hands together, returning to his usual petty, merchant-like demeanor. No one would ever associate him with a Saint-tier powerhouse now.
"It's just that, Lord York… the Healing Witch is safest when kept inside my mind-world."
York wanted to say, I'm stronger than you—my mind-world is better. But he knew that Chuid's mind-world had been specially modified by the Holy Tribunal to function as a sealing domain capable of storing living beings.
His own wasn't that refined.
That was exactly why he coveted it in the first place.
"Fine. Keep her there for now. We've already wasted enough time—it's time to leave."
"Wait, Lord York."
"What now?"
York's impatience was obvious, and a trace of killing intent surfaced in his eyes.
"See, Lord York… the enemy's true target is the Healing Witch. Only someone like you can absorb the sealing domain and take her away. I'm just a mid–sixth-tier nobody."
He chuckled awkwardly.
"I've hidden my strength with secret arts for years. No one would think I was close to breaking through. So I have a small request…
Could we split up and act separately?"
"You want me to be the bait?"
York's fury exploded.
A Saint from the Holy Tribunal—getting played in the backwater lands of the Three Empires, and now being used as bait?
At that moment, he wanted nothing more than to strangle Old Chuid and show him the difference between a real Saint and a fake one.
But reason prevailed.
After taking several deep breaths, York ground his teeth and said:
"Fine. But you'd better pray you survive."
With that, he flew straight into the sky without looking back.
Only after York disappeared did Old Chui-de look at the remains of Chui-de City. Deep hatred flickered in his eyes.
But it was quickly suppressed, turning into a heavy sigh instead.
"Sins upon sins…"
He then flew off in the opposite direction.
Time passed.
York crossed the Commercial Nation and entered the territory of the Windmill Nation.
Not long after, he felt a familiar sense of being watched.
It was the Holy Tribunal's enemy-detection spell.
"What's going on?"
Only members of the Church's Inquisition or Holy Judgment Knights could use that spell. There was no way they would mistake a Holy Tribunal envoy like him for a heretic.
Just then, dozens of figures flew toward him.
At the front was a newly promoted sixth-tier priest. He looked at York sternly and declared:
"Criminal York, you are charged with apostasy, mass murder, crimes against humanity, and blasphemy. By order of the Archbishop, we are here to arrest you."
"An archbishop… arrest me?"
York laughed.
A Holy Tribunal elite being detained by local church authorities in the Three Empires?Ridiculous.
His voice turned cold.
"Which nation's archbishop? What's his name? Tell him to come see me himself."
"How dare you insult the Archbishop, you traitor!"
The priest roared in rage and raised the cross on his chest, beginning to chant.
But before the chanting could finish—
York attacked.
Against insects who barely reached early sixth-tier, he didn't even need real effort.
With nothing but his Saint-tier mental force, he froze them all in place.
Then he slowly drifted toward the leading priest, calmly straightening his immaculate clothes.
"Speak. Who is your archbishop?"
Under the crushing pressure of a Saint, the priest still didn't yield.
He stared at York with madness in his eyes.
"You damned traitor…"
Purple light burst from his pupils. His mana vibrated at a specific frequency.
Then—
BOOM.
His body detonated in a violent explosion of magical energy, turning into a massive sphere of light that devoured everything around it.