My mom is waiting for treatment, and you're summoning me to be a hero?

I need to talk to you.

The archbishop did not turn around after hearing Lin Mo's words.

He continued to twirl the prayer beads, his back still straight, his kneeling posture devout like a sculpture.

"It's for that wish, isn't it?"

His voice remained calm.

"If you want money, power, or territory, just ask the Second Prince. He won't be stingy with these things if he wants to win you over."

He paused for a moment and then explained.

"My ability is such that a person can only make a wish once in their lifetime. Don't waste it."

After saying that, he immersed himself back in the scriptures.

His aged lips moved, uttering indistinct yet devout syllables.

Lin Mo's brows furrowed almost imperceptibly.

The old man's attitude made him very unhappy.

It wasn't that kind of haughty arrogance, but rather a kind of... tranquility that was almost like being invincible without desire.

He was not afraid of death or threats. He even found the deaths of the people outside the door troublesome, rather than angry or fearful.

Such people are often unresponsive to both soft and hard approaches.

But unfortunately, I still need his abilities right now.

Lin Mo pressed down his restless thumb on the hilt of the sword.

He took a deep breath, his voice tinged with impatience:

"I want to go back to my old world."

The sound of the rosary beads rolling stopped abruptly.

The archbishop finally turned his head.

The flickering candlelight cast deep shadows on his wrinkled face.

His eyes, usually cloudy and pale gray, were now slightly narrowed as he looked Lin Mo up and down.

From those dark eyes.

The lazy spider and the little red monster on my shoulder.

Then there was the longsword at her waist, radiating an ominous, ghostly light.

For the first time, a ripple of emotion, unlike the calm, appeared in that gaze.

"The same to you……"

His voice softened, as if confirming something, or perhaps sighing.

"A hero summoned here?"

"Um."

Lin Mo did not avoid his gaze.

"I have an urgent matter and must go back."

Despite being filled with shock, the archbishop remained calm as he looked at Lin Mo.

"My abilities were bestowed by the gods, and you heroes were guided here by them. This door was opened by the gods; I am merely a gatekeeper. I can give you anything inside the door—gold, jewels—but I have no right to touch the door itself. In other words…"

He paused, then spoke slowly and deliberately.

"I have no right to let you go back."

The air in the courtyard seemed to freeze for a moment.

Lin Mo's lips twitched slightly upon hearing this analogy.

He darted forward and grabbed the archbishop by the collar.

"Extradition!? My mom was waiting for medical treatment and I was suddenly summoned to this godforsaken place, and you call this extradition!?"

He loudly questioned the archbishop.

Then, he placed his hand on the hilt of the sword.

"Since you don't have the ability, that means keeping you around is useless!"

The sword's edge pressed against the old man's loose neck skin.

Just one more inch.

This cardinal, who ruled the empire's faith for over thirty years, would be no different from the four corpses outside the door.

However, the archbishop did not dodge.

At this moment, he also understood some of the reasons why Lin Mo, as a hero, had become like this.

A hint of pity even appeared in his eyes.

Those cloudy gray eyes remained calm.

There was no fear, no anger, not even a trace of offended shame.

He simply stared at Lin Mo, as if he were staring at a child who had nowhere to go.

Then he sighed.

"Ugh."

The sigh was very short.

It was so brief that it was almost just a slight rise and fall in the chest.

But what it contains.

Regretful and helpless.

However, this halted Lin Mo's advance.

"I was once curious about your world, so I tried to fulfill that wish, but I only had twelve hours."

Lin Mo's pupils contracted slightly.

The archbishop continued to explain:

"You will be forcibly recalled in twelve hours. This is the limit of what I can do."

His voice was flat, as if he were stating an unchangeable verdict.

"A longer delay, or a complete lifting of restrictions, is impossible."

Twelve hours.

Lin Mo tightened his grip on the sword.

The knuckles are turning white.

His biggest challenge now is not just going home, but delivering medicine to his mother in the future.

As one's strength grows and one becomes more deeply connected to this world, the amount of medicine delivered each time decreases.

If things continue like this, one day we'll never be able to go back to the way things were.

"Not enough, twelve hours is too short."

His voice was deep and hoarse, with a suppressed huskiness.

The archbishop did not respond.

He simply looked at Lin Mo in silence.

There was no apology in those eyes, and of course, no room for bargaining.

Just then, a crisp sound broke the silence.

"Wait for Lin Mo."

Yin Xue suddenly spoke.

She flew off Lin Mo's shoulder, met his gaze, and her expression became unusually serious.

"Lin Mo, I've got an idea."

She paused, preparing what she was about to say.

"I can make a teleportation compass, directional and one-way. In the future, you can use the compass to send the prepared medicine directly to your mother."

She paused, her tone unusually devoid of its usual playfulness and casualness.

"The losses will still be significant, given the cross-disciplinary nature of this, but this isn't a gift of a living person, just a lump of medicine. The most crucial point is..."

She cupped Lin Mo's face in her hands, her bloodshot eyes staring directly at him.

"This method is unaffected by the laws; it's smuggling. The compass is inanimate, and the laws can't catch it."

Lin Mo looked at Yin Xue for a long time before speaking.

"Doesn't that mean...?"

He paused.

Yin Xue nodded and lowered his eyes.

The pair of little wings that were always fluttering restlessly also drooped quietly.

"This is the last time you'll see your parents before you reach level 100."

The courtyard was so quiet that only the rustling of the night wind through the vines could be heard.

Mianmian nestled on Lin Mo's shoulder, its eight compound eyes quietly watching its master.

Lin Mo did not look at Yin Xue, nor at the Archbishop.

He simply lowered his head, looking at his hand holding the sword.

That hand, in another world, carried her mother's water glass, helped her up the hospital stairs, and signed a thick stack of treatment consent forms she couldn't understand.

That hand, in this world, has cleaved mountains, slaughtered armies, and stained with countless drops of blood.

It is trembling slightly now.

Finally, the sword slowly moved away from the archbishop's neck.

The sound of the black sword being sheathed was as clear as a sigh in the silence.

Lin Mo slowly raised his head.

His voice was hoarse and low, each word sounding like a pebble squeezed out of his throat.

"Okay, that's settled then. I'm going back in three days... I'm going back... to say goodbye to my parents."

The blood flew back to Lin Mo's shoulder and fell silently.

The archbishop turned back to face the small altar.

He picked up the prayer beads again, and his aged voice once more echoed softly in the courtyard.

May your light guide the lost...

This time, he paused.

"...May your mercy forgive sinners."