In the vast Holy Hall corridor, only the footsteps of an old man and a young girl echoed.
The Pope did not answer the Hero's questioning, but simply led the way forward on his own.
The Hero also fell silent, no longer asking questions, walking steadily behind the Pope.
As they moved forward step by step, the girl's gaze gradually became cold, and the silence seemed to amplify the sound of breathing.
Her spine slightly curved, her back bowed, her gaze like a sharp blade staring at the old man's back ahead, yet her fists were no longer clenched, naturally relaxing at her side, her footsteps softening.
But if a qualified Martial Monk were here, they would instantly recognize that the girl's posture was like a beast crouching, the relaxation merely a disguise before a sudden raid on her prey.
When the killer intent erupted, those lowered fists would transform into a thunderous strike.
