Wandering Swordsman |

Before he could finish speaking, the "Faceless" being controlled by the demonic energy suddenly trembled violently, making a muffled "hoarse" sound in its throat, as if it had a thousand words stuck in its chest but could not be uttered.

Her hands clenched into fists, her nails almost digging into her palms, and anger and impatience burned in her blue eyes.

After a moment's thought, Shen Mo gently raised his right hand and lightly tapped the back of her neck.

The acupoints that had sealed her speech and some of her movements immediately opened.

Faceless staggered back, gasping for breath, then glared at Shen Mo, his voice hoarse yet sharp as a knife: "What did you do to me?! My holy power... why can't I sense it anymore?!"

She tried to mobilize the Holy Power of the Church that she had cultivated for many years, but it was like a stone sinking into the sea. Her meridians were empty, and only a cold and unfamiliar aura lingered in her dantian, like a poisonous vine, isolating her from everything.

Shen Mo stood calmly with his hands behind his back: "To prevent you from suddenly attacking someone, I have temporarily sealed your true energy. Don't worry, it will dissipate within three days."

"Three days?!" Faceless nearly ground his teeth to powder. "Do you know who I am?! How dare you imprison a Vatican inquisitor?!"

She abruptly turned to Albert, her eyes blazing with even greater fury, and shouted angrily, "Albert! You are one of the Seven Stars, revered by six nations, yet you mingle with heretics?! This is a betrayal of the six nations, a betrayal of our faith!"

Her voice was like a whip lashing the air, each word barbed, as if she wanted to nail Albert to the pillar of shame.

Albert, however, remained unperturbed. His gaze was piercing, and his voice as steady as a hammer striking an anvil:

"Faith? Ha..." He sneered, his tone suddenly turning somber, as if reopening a long-buried wound. "Under the Pope's leadership, has the Holy See and the Holy Kingdom spread faith, and have the people of the world truly lived a good life?"

He stared directly at the faceless man, his eyes showing no fear, his words like knives: "You call them heretics? But how many people in your so-called 'holy' papacy truly serve God, instead of using God's name to indulge in greed?!"

Wumian was speechless for a moment, his lips trembling slightly beneath the mask.

She wanted to retort—she should have sternly rebuked him and convicted the Seven Star Swordsman on the spot of "blasphemy." But the words stuck in her throat like a stone falling into an abyss, so heavy that she couldn't utter a sound.

How could she not know what Albert said?

Three years ago, she was ordered to wipe out a "traitorous knightly order," only to discover that they had merely exposed the truth about a high-ranking Vatican official's collusion with bandits in the slave trade...

The number of Vatican "scoundrels" who died at her hands was far more than a hundred.

Her fingertips were icy cold, and a long-lost sense of unease surged within her.

Just then, Shen Mo suddenly spoke, his voice calm yet piercing: "By the way, I'm curious, we've already disguised ourselves and deliberately concealed our auras, so how were you able to track us all the way here?"

Faceless paused for a moment, then straightened his back. Although his true energy was suppressed, he still exuded the arrogance of an inquisitor: "We heretic inquisitors have been tracking heretics for years, and we have our own methods."

Her tone carried a hint of secret confidence—a tracking technique accumulated by the Vatican over a century, combining astrology and divination, which was extremely difficult for outsiders to decipher.

Upon hearing this, a faint smile appeared on Shen Mo's lips.

"I see." He stepped forward slowly, his gaze like the moon reflected in a deep pool. "However, when I was channeling my true energy into your body just now, I sensed a chaotic energy deep within your consciousness, lingering in your Niwan Palace like a poisonous vine. This injury wasn't caused by external force, but rather... an old wound that hadn't healed and was forcibly suppressed. If I'm not mistaken, you often suffer from splitting headaches, don't you?"

Faceless shuddered, and his pupils shrank beneath the mask.

Headaches! How...how did he know?!

Every time I try to recall that missing memory of the faceless one, it feels like a thousand needles piercing my brain.

She had visited renowned doctors in six countries and sought help from many Vatican healers in an attempt to recover her lost memories, but neither the doctors nor the healers had ever mentioned her symptoms.

The man before him, whom he considered a "heretic," saw right through him at a glance!

Shen Mo continued in a calm yet unquestionable tone, "As long as you answer my questions truthfully, I can help you sort out your consciousness and calm your chaotic energy."

Upon hearing this, Faceless was terrified.

If, as he said, the chaotic energy in my mind has subsided... then could I also retrieve those past memories that I can't recall no matter what?

She looked up abruptly, her voice almost hoarse: "Okay, I promise you!"

As soon as she said it, even she was stunned.

Beneath the mask, the heart that had long been frozen by the Vatican's ironclad laws began to beat violently at this moment, like a trapped beast pounding against its cage.

I... betrayed the oath I took when I became an Inquisitor for the sake of "the idea that I might regain my memories"? I betrayed my faith in the Church?

But what if that missing memory holds the truth about my identity...?

Every time I try to recall it, my head aches as if a thousand needles are piercing my skull. The Vatican healer only says, "This is God's test. Forgetting is salvation. Since you can't find it, accept the present moment. It's all God's arrangement."

But she didn't believe these words in her heart, and even secretly vowed to find her lost memories.

She would rather suffer than give up.

At this moment, the man in the black robe in front of her actually said that he could calm the chaotic energy in her sea of ​​consciousness?

Does that mean... she'll finally be free from headaches and might be able to successfully recall her missing memories?

Reason screams: He's a heretic! An untrustworthy man!

But deep inside, a fainter yet more stubborn voice cried out: What if this is the only chance?

She no longer hesitated, no longer weighed the pros and cons.

Faith can be rebuilt, identity can be discarded, but if this opportunity is missed, one may live in a fog for eternity.

She stared intently at Shen Mo, her eyes burning with an almost desperate light, her voice trembling yet resolute: "Hurry up and make your move... I don't want to wait another second!"

Shen Mo, Hua Tianyou, and Albert exchanged glances, all reading shock and solemnity in each other's eyes.

They could see that this was no longer a compromise by the interrogator, but the last straw a soul clung to on the edge of despair.

Shen Mo nodded slightly, and with a flick of his right hand, released all the restraints on Wumian.

"Let's find another place," he whispered. "There are too many people here, it's not convenient to perform the magic."

A moment later, the three led Faceless to a secluded inn in the city. The innermost room on the second floor had its windows tightly closed and the candlelight dim. A plain cotton quilt was laid on the couch. Faceless sat cross-legged as instructed, his hands tightly gripping the hem of his clothes, his knuckles white, and his breathing rapid like a candle flickering in the wind.

Shen Mo slowly walked behind her and sat down cross-legged. He closed his eyes and concentrated, his aura gradually subsiding, as if he were breathing in harmony with heaven and earth.

A moment later, he slowly raised his left hand, and a faint golden light emanated from his palm—it was the pure and clean power of the Buddha's relics that was fused deep within his soul, capable of cleansing evil spirits and smoothing the cracks in his soul.