Chapter 242 A Lot Behind This
"If you don’t know what to do, why not just hit him?"
"Huh?!" Ye Qingxuan was stunned. He had always thought that Charles’ ability to talk nonsense was amazing, but he had never imagined it was inherited from their professor! And Abraham truly was incredible—how did he suddenly co to this weird conclusion?
"Professor, no!" Ye Qingxuan almost jumped up in fright. "If you fight here, you’ll probably lose the appraisal!"
"Uh, I’m confused again. Isn’t that the rule?" Abraham said awkwardly. "In the military, if you bring it to the military court and threaten soone in their face, it’s normal to fight back, isn’t it?"
"No, no, no, it’s not normal at all! And what military did you co from? It’s so wild…" Ye Qingxuan thought.
"Then why don’t I do it?" Charles jumped up to add to the ss with the expression of a lonely elite fighter. "Don’t worry, he’ll definitely lose to for talking trash!"
"Oh, so you do know?" A stampede of what-the-f*ck’s charged across Ye Qingxuan’s mind. The appraisal had not even started yet but he was already close to breaking down.
Just as Charles was getting prepared, Ingmar was five steps away with a strange smile. Suddenly, the door opened. A majestic bell rang outside the Union. The sound was soul-shaking as if it rang in one’s heart, shaking all thought away. The echo resounded in one’s skull.
"The Westminster Church…" soone murmured. "It’s nine forty in the morning so it’s not telling ti. Why is it ringing?"
The room was silent as no one replied.
Under everyone’s gazes, a line of priests clad in black, and holding holy emblems and incense furnaces entered the Union building. They had co from the Westminster Church across the street, silent the entire way there. Plus of incense smoke hung in the wind.
The warm scent drove out the cold dampness and evils in the wind, warming one’s body. However, the priests’ expressions were stern and cold like a god. They stood outside the hall and did not enter.
Amongst them, an old man with a holy crown walked out, entering the hall with his secretary. He wore a long black robe with a dark gold emblem. Silver thorns were pressed into his sleeve cuffs, seeming a bit old-fashioned and odd. But here, the old-fashioned style was incomparably solemn and dignified.
Ingmar’s frivolous outfit was nothing but dust before this robe passed down the Church for centuries. It represented the majesty of the Church; wearing it before soone was the sa as the cardinal visiting.
"F*ck! I just invited them for the show, but I didn’t think they’d actually co…" Inside the building, Bayer wiped at his cold sweat. He hurriedly fixed his clothing and rushed down the steps to welco the old man clad in black.
"Look down."
In the silent crowd, Charles was looking around in curiosity but suddenly felt a kick from Ye Qingxuan. The oblivious Charles finally realized that, other than Bayer who represented the Musician’s Union, everyone else had lowered their head politely before the stern old man. He quickly copied them and said in code, "What’s wrong? Who is that guy…"
"Senior, are you blind? You can tell just by his clothes." Ye Qingxuan lowered his eyes. "Who has the right to wear that robe other than the tropolitan archbishop?"
Who? Who else could it be!
Ye Qingxuan had realized who was arriving the mont he heard the bell. Otherwise he would have morized that Church rituals for nothing!
In Anglo, only one person was qualified to wear the dark gold robe, have a bell ring when traveling, and represent the glory of the Church. That was the highest person in charge of the Anglo church and the Westminster Church—tropolitan archbishop phistopheles!
After he aged, he would be in reclusion except for presiding over the prayer sessions for the start and end of the year. Ye Qingxuan did not know why he appeared now, but he undoubtedly represented God and the Church wherever he went. Everyone must bow to him.
The holy theory stated: one must bow and not et the eye of the God to show one’s sincere devoutness and awe.
"Wow, this effect is aweso." Charles continued to say in code. Peeking at the old man, his eyes were filled with gossip and he muttered, "Wow, is he really phistopheles? I heard that he had the chance to beco a cardinal! Apparently he had a conflict with Knights Templar and was banished here. Ah, that must have been more than thirty years ago…"
"Senior, watch your mouth." Ye Qingxuan really wanted to kill him. "Don’t think that speaking in code is safe. Archbishop phistopheles is a highly-acclaid musician. He’s one of the few grandmasters of the School of Choir!"
"Oh, really? I can’t tell. There aren’t any aether ripples at all!" Charles coaxed quietly, "Yezi, don’t get nervous. He’s probably just a purely theoretical musician."
"…" Ye Qingxuan wanted to speak more but, to stay safe, he intelligently closed his mouth. After speaking quietly with Bayer, Archbishop phistopheles nodded. Without speaking more, he passed through the hall toward the conference room.
It might have been his mind playing tricks but Ye Qingxuan felt the black robe pause slightly as it passed by him and a pair of rheumy eyes swept past him. The formless gaze was like an electric shock, making those in its path feel pricks on their skin and hair crackling.
Soon, Archbishop phistopheles entered the conference room. After a long while, Ye Qingxuan slowly raised his head and let out a long breath. For so reason, things felt worse now.
"Hope it won’t be what I’m thinking…" the youth murmured to himself.
-
Ten minutes later, a hurried priest avoided everyone’s eyes and entered a single eting room. Ingmar, sitting nervously inside, instantly welcod him with a warm and devout expression, and grasped his hand. "Father Kyle, I’m grateful you ca!"
Kyle smiled. "As mbers of the parliant, we should help each other out."
Before Ingmar was an important figure of the Westminster Church—Kyle, assistant bishop and Archbishop phistophele’s personal secretary.
It was obvious that this secret eting before the appraisal was a sensitive subject. If a caring person saw, it would be a problem. In other words, this was not a simple eting. Ingmar still had not recovered from the shock of seeing Archbishop phistopheles. He had never thought that the parliant was so powerful that even he could be influenced! The aning behind this chilled him.
He lowered his head politely. "It’s just a small matter. I am shaken that even Archbishop phistopheles was moved to co."
Kyle smirked. "This was unexpected for as well. Archbishop phistopheles cares strongly about justice. I had just ntioned your problem to him, but I didn’t think he would co personally. Though he’s a mber of the parliant, he’s actually the representative of the Church and rarely expresses his opinion. All remarks and decisions would be handed to so you shouldn’t worry."
Hearing that, Ingmar let out a relieved sigh.
"Have you prepared the details?" Kyle asked with a smile. "You should’ve received all the answers from parliant mbers."
"Yes, I’ve prepared them." Ingmar nodded, relief flashing through his eyes. "There will be no problems."
The appraisal procedure was very simple. Both parties would submit resources and describe them. Then, it was the questioning and interrogation segnt. It was simple, but the emptier the segnt, the more it had behind it.
Kyle said quietly, "After all mbers arrive, they’ll read what you submit and listen to your explanation. The most important part is the questioning. The first half will focus on your résumé and personal achievents. You will be before Abraham."
It seed like simple ordering but the effect was entirely different. Ingmar’s résumé and achievents were flawless and a perfect example. No one would be able to question him on this aspect.
In comparison to Ingmar’s example, Abraham would seem empty and insignificant. This was his biggest disadvantage—he had neither a résumé nor any achievents to speak of.
"For the second half, the interrogation of interpretation results," Kyle’s smile grew secretive, "Abraham will be before you."
Ingmar froze until it dawned on him.
Indeed, when the appraisal council mbers truly began to learn of this ‘interpretation thod,’ they would definitely be enraged by this unorthodox and almost satanic theory. At that ti, Ingmar, representing the true orthodox academia, would arrive. He could almost see the mont Abraham would be defeated!
Ingmar paced in excitent. Finally, he grasped Kyle’s hands with an ecstatic expression. "Thank you for your great help, Father Kyle."
"For so things, the result has been decided at the beginning." Kyle smiled and patted his shoulder. "Mr. Ingmar, you have my vote, at least. You must know that I’m not the only one who received a letter from the parliant."
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