Chapter 1259: Chapter 426 You are My Arch-Enemy, Clown_3
“Also, his na is Wayne. He has a na, so stop referring to him as ‘that human’!”
Wayne tilted his head, utterly bewildered. Hexuno was actually praising him against all reason—was her brain damaged by the teleportation portal during their escape?
Got it. She’s protecting her husband. This, this is love!
Wayne instinctively puffed out his chest, stepped forward, and wrapped his arm around Hexuno’s slender waist, convinced they looked the perfect couple.
Hexuno squird a little, her resistance weak, resembling more the flirtatious spat of a pair of scandalous lovers.
Uriel exclaid that he couldn’t bear to watch, his face flushed with anger. He gritted his teeth and said, “Hexuno, have you gone blind? This man is despicable, shaless, full of vile habits—a walking disaster! If I don’t call him a Devil, that’s already a complint. He has no morals or sense of sha whatsoever!”
Love to hear it—keep going! x2
The more my enemies object to , the more it proves I’m right!
The enemies’ curses are the highest praise. You should listen to them in reverse! Wayne found Uriel’s enraged rant surprisingly pleasant, matched with Uriel’s frantically furious expression—he thought to himself, “What a comndation!”
He was reinvigorated, feeling like Hexuno’s little feet could make him devour three bowls of rice.
Thinking of this, Wayne glanced at Hexuno, noticing her calm deanor. She was completely unfazed by Uriel’s tirade and… she even seed to enjoy listening to it.
What the hell? This isn’t love?
Wayne rolled his eyes, realizing that Hexuno was orchestrating a sche!
Hexuno regarded him as the Saint Heir, while Uriel was a rival contender. The more vicious Uriel’s insults were, the further he distanced himself from the title of Saint Heir.
Wayne placed his hand over his chest, reminiscing how Hexuno was once honorable, virtuous, and principled. Now, not so much.
She had fallen!
Uriel ranted for half a day, only to see Wayne sighing and Hexuno’s steady expression. Suddenly, cold dread shot from Uriel’s soles straight to his skull.
Why weren’t they arguing back?
Who just takes verbal abuse without retorting? Say sothing!
Hexuno, who had previously gone to great lengths to defend Wayne, was now silent. Uriel couldn’t figure it out but sensed sothing strange.
Feeling uneasy, he maintained a composed facade while huffing coldly, “The Hell Gate is closed, my task here is finished. I’ll return to the Papal State. Hexuno, rember what you promised—the leadership over Reincarnated Angels is mine. You’re forbidden from entering the Papal State.”
With that, he turned and left.
He walked faster and faster, fearing he might fall victim to so ploy.
Watching his sorry figure retreat, Hexuno’s lips curved faintly—this plan was rock-solid.
She and Wayne knew the other all too well—especially how petty this bastard’s temperant could be. In terms of grudges, he’d outrank even the Lord of Envy, who’s practically addicted to failed investnts.
Uriel had hurled so many insults today; surely, Heaven’s janitorial roster would have a spot reserved for Uriel.
Wait, Heaven has no toilets?
No problem. If the Saint Heir wants them, toilets they shall have.
Crack!
A sharp slap resounded as Hexuno turned with a furious glare at Wayne. “We agreed—you’re never to touch again!”
“You know —I never keep my word,” Wayne replied serenely, looking at Hexuno. “By the way, did you just think to yourself… ‘rock-solid plan’?”
“…”
Hexuno froze her breath, worried her intentions were too obvious and Wayne had seen through them.
Recalling her series of erratic behaviors lately, her scalp tingled. If Wayne deduced her thoughts and unraveled her reverse logic, then he’d inevitably uncover her reasons for acting strangely.
This is bad. If the Saint Heir realizes he’s the Saint Heir, he’ll transform into an uncontrollable force!
“Such words shouldn’t be uttered—even thinking them is not allowed.”
Wayne patted Hexuno on the shoulder, gesturing toward the ss that was the Underground Great Tomb. “It’s nearly hollowed out. Paris might collapse any minute. Now’s definitely not the ti to say ‘rock-solid.’ Give a hand—let’s erect so pillars to hold things up.”
Oh, so ‘rock-solid’ was about this!
Hexuno’s hanging heart settled as she saw Wayne casting earth-based magic to create slabs of instant-dry soil walls. She followed closely, assisting him.
Among the Four Archangels, each corresponded to one of the Four Elents. Uriel, representing Earth, was now gone. Hexuno, who represented Water, had nowhere near Uriel’s expertise in civil engineering. But brute strength and abundant magic power were enough for her to help Wayne fill the gaping underground space.
With the pair teaming up, work proved efficient. It only took monts to stuff every empty crevice.
“Hexuno, take a look and make sure it’s all packed tightly. If there’s still any gaps, just say so—you know —I never complain and can keep working endlessly.” Wayne grinned and clapped his hands.
Hexuno ignored him, aware that Wayne was using the opportunity to talk dirty, and refused to play along.
She remained stuck pondering that earlier ‘rock-solid,’ suspecting Wayne had figured out the truth but chose not to expose her intentions.
Knowing Wayne, what good could this bastard be up to? He was probably just pretending to be clueless, seizing every chance to tease her.
“Hexuno, I’ve once again fought against Devils, reclaid the brain of the Death Knight, and saved Paris. Earlier, I told you I was the Saint Heir—you didn’t believe . What do you say now?” Wayne raised his brows, smirking mischievously.
“I—I don’t… That should be impossible!”
“You say it’s not true, then it’s not true. I’ll listen to you.”
“…”
Damned bastard—he definitely knows!
Looking at his obnoxious smirking face, Hexuno wanted nothing more than to punch him hard enough to make him blossom like a flower.
“Speaking of promises—you previously agreed that after every exorcism, you’d reward begrudgingly. Let count the Devils this ti… Hey, where are you going?”
The scene shifts as Hexuno, deeply irritated, finds Heya, surrounded by three Holy Maidens.
There was the ever-energetic Cote, Sukra lying flat on the ground in utter disregard, and Guinevere, wearing an expression of utter existential doubt.
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