Chapter 284: No. 14 Is Stripped of His Priestly Authority

The Black-Haired Oracle suppressed his inner rage and, a moment later, let out a cold laugh.

Anyway, as soon as the mission was over, he would immediately arrange a car accident to have Jane Lancaster brought to Aethelgard.

As for Jasper Sterling, he could cry while clutching Jane Lancaster’s memorial tablet!

He lost the desire to keep watching and left with a flick of his sleeves.

Although Jasper Sterling’s words had irritated him, he had to admit one thing was right—Sean Grant’s assistant had shown up far too conveniently.

Even when controlling a small world, priests could only write the general direction of the plot, using the nascent power of the universe to push events toward the intended storyline.

But nothing was ever absolute. Just as Jane Lancaster had said, people were the most uncontrollable element in the world. Even for someone as powerful as him, the storylines he wrote could only achieve approximate results.

Though the people of Aethelgard called themselves gods, they were not, after all, true deities.

The assistant’s actions... it was as if someone had tipped him off.

If that was the case, then the other party had crossed a line. Aside from mission-takers, priests were not allowed to privately contact people in the small worlds.

He barely needed to investigate to know who was capable of such petty meddling.

No. 14 loved to manipulate people and would never allow a character to escape his plot design. He had pulled strings behind the scenes several times before to punish a villain.

Because his actions catered to the preferences of Aethelgard’s residents, he was never held accountable.

But to overreach this much was going too far.

—

It was half an hour later that he noticed the hostile presence had vanished.

Jane Lancaster had been in agony for two nights and was so exhausted she could barely keep her eyes open. She had fallen asleep leaning against Jasper Sterling.

But the pain must have been severe, as she slept fitfully. Her brows were knitted tightly, and her arm would occasionally twitch with a spasm.

Jasper Sterling’s eyelids lowered, his gaze utterly devoid of warmth.

He hated his own powerlessness at that moment, unable to share even a fraction of her pain.

Then, he felt Jane Lancaster’s tightly knitted brow gradually relax.

In the air, it was as if an invisible hand was gently stroking Jane Lancaster’s injured arm.

The bone-deep pain dissipated, and her body relaxed, no longer trembling from the cold.

Sitting in the darkness, Jasper Sterling held Jane Lancaster tighter and tighter, as if he were holding his entire world.

The other party had finally made a move. But he also understood why they were willing to act now.

Because the story was approaching its final Chapter, and the transfer was imminent. This was undoubtedly the best time to curry favor; it would achieve the greatest effect with the least effort.

—

In Aethelgard, No. 14 hadn’t expected his little scheme to be discovered so quickly.

With the evidence so irrefutable, he couldn’t even deny it.

He had planned it all out back when Jane Lancaster was preparing to ambush Chloe Dave and her group.

Since Jane Lancaster loved to stir up trouble, he figured he might as well make things a little more dramatic.

Sean Grant appeared refined on the surface, but he was sinister and ruthless to the core. If his men had cornered Jane Lancaster on the spot, she would have been crippled, if not killed.

Unfortunately, the best-laid plans often go awry; he hadn’t accounted for the variable that was Jasper Sterling.

"Priest No. 3, don’t you think you’re being far too high-handed? You can interfere with the plot as you please, so why can’t I?"

A long table stretched into the depths of the ethereal mist. A projection of No. 1 sat at the head of the table.

Further down, the priests sat in their chairs in numerical order.

Some were physically present, while others, like No. 1, were mere projections—phantoms cast by their Spiritual Power when they could not attend in person.

No. 3 raised his eyes and gazed distantly at the fiery red head. His own long, black hair cascaded over his chest as he spoke, his expression cool and his voice firm and strong.

"First, I am the one in charge of this small world. You only have inspection rights. In light of your previous imprudence, I have already reported to No. 1 and had your inspection rights revoked. You no longer have any authority to interfere in this world."

"Second, while I have no obligation to explain myself to you, as a colleague, I feel I must inform you that priests *are* permitted to provide necessary assistance when it is beneficial to the plot’s development."

This rule had always existed, but with No. 14’s personality, how could he possibly help his host?

He would only defraud, mock, and entice his host, seeking to utterly destroy them.

The guillotine in Aethelgard might not be used for years at a time. The last person executed had been No. 14’s host.

"No. 14, you will reflect on your actions in seclusion for a time. Your priestly authority is temporarily suspended." At last, No. 1, from the head of the table, spoke.

The matter was settled, with no room for appeal.

Stripped of his authority, No. 14 could only leave, his face livid.

The other priests were busy with their own affairs and departed quickly without much further conversation.

But the projection at the head of the table remained motionless for a long time.

"Oh, by the way, No. 3. That time you came to see me... you were looking for a writ of special pardon, weren’t you?" The projection spoke with a laugh, as if making small talk with an old friend. "That’s not like you."

No. 3’s expression was calm. "I just think she might make an excellent observation subject."

He had his explanation ready. "A person like Luna Morgan, who possesses so many wonderful virtues, can certainly stimulate positive emotional feedback. But someone like Jane Lancaster isn’t necessarily incapable of doing the same."

"She is rational but doesn’t hand out sympathy indiscriminately; she is powerful but maintains her principles. Rather than calling her vicious and hypocritical, I’d say her kindness is always wrapped in a shell of malice..."

No. 3 didn’t even notice that as he spoke of Jane Lancaster, his gaze, usually as still as an ancient well, was filled with great ripples.

Or rather, they were not ripples, but crashing waves.

"I believe her stubborn refusal to admit defeat when faced with hardship, and that relentless tenacity of hers, could greatly stimulate the brain activity and courage of our people to face reality. We could even try star-making in Aethelgard and have her become a real-world guide..."

"Enough!" No. 1 interrupted him.

No. 3 was stunned for a moment, a hint of surprise on his face, but he said nothing.

No. 1’s projection sighed. "I know you have Aethelgard’s best interests at heart, but a soul that is not pure enough is not qualified to be a guide."

Priest No. 3 stared at the projection through the ethereal mist. "As long as it was for the good of Aethelgard, you were always willing to give it a try in the past."

"Perhaps it’s because I was severely injured on my last mission and haven’t recovered yet. My heart is willing, but my strength is not," No. 1’s projection said, coughing lightly twice.

Priest No. 3’s expression changed slightly. "You were injured? When did this happen? Is it serious?"

He was about to say he could heal the injury for him, about to make a move, when a sharp pain shot through the arm hidden beneath his priestly robes, reminding him that he had crossed a line and was suffering the backlash for Jane Lancaster’s sake.

The words reached his lips, paused, and were ultimately swallowed back down.

No. 1 coughed even more violently. "In all of Aethelgard, only you are a natural wielder of Star Power, so powerful that you don’t have to suffer the pain of any backlash... I suppose I’m finally getting old!"

"Please don’t say that. Take good care of yourself, and you’ll surely recover soon." He curled his fingers, restraining the urge to offer his help.

He couldn’t take that risk.

No. 1’s projection waited for a long time but didn’t hear the words he was hoping for. In the end, he could only let out a couple of hearty laughs to cover his disappointment.

"I’ll give you the writ of special pardon. Come and get it after the mission is over."