After an unknown amount of time passed.
Mortis's eyelashes fluttered slightly, and she slowly opened her sleepy eyes.
At first, she was still drowsy, but then she suddenly realized where she was leaning—it was Oliver's shoulder!
As if a current had suddenly passed through her, she gasped sharply, instantly sprang away, her whole body rigid, her cheeks quickly flushing red as if ignited, the heat spreading to her earlobes.
She quickly raised her hand to smooth the scattered strands of hair by her temples, trying to distract herself and appear less flustered: "I'm sorry..."
Oliver turned his head, his gaze resting on her crimson profile. The corner of his mouth seemed to twitch, and he simply replied softly, "It's fine."
He was actually quite curious.
Logically speaking, Mortis's child was already eight years old, so she shouldn't have the reaction typical of a girl who has never dated—she clearly had the face of a stunning married woman, yet why did she give off the feeling of a young girl's first love?
He truly couldn't figure it out.
Mortis's heart skipped a beat. She unconsciously twisted the end of a long strand of hair with her fingertips and stammered softly, "Did I... do anything rude while I was sleeping?"
"No."
Oliver's voice held a trace of imperceptible amusement. After a pause, he added, "It's just that your hair tickled me a bit."
Hearing this, Mortis finally couldn't help but quietly raise her eyelashes, meeting his gentle, smiling eyes—his gaze was as clear as a stream, reflecting her inescapable shyness, yet gently dissolving all awkwardness.
"So—what are your plans for Janusapolis?"
Mortis quickly calmed herself and resumed her dignified and elegant demeanor.
"My purpose for coming here is only for you and her."
Oliver pointed to the still-sleeping Tribios beside them, then stated solemnly, "If you encounter trouble that cannot be solved, I will intervene."
"As for the management and diplomacy of the city-state, you, the High Priestess and Saintess, can handle it yourself. I just need the title of Divine Envoy."
He even left Belobog for Cocolia and Natasha to manage.
He certainly didn't have the spare time to work himself ragged.
Dealing with official business every day and facing the insincerity of a group of politicians.
Isn't it much better to enjoy life by basking in the sun, strolling the streets, flirting with beauties, and looking after the child?
"To be honest with you, the Saintess of Janusapolis is now merely a name."
Mortis showed a distressed expression, "The pro-Saintess faction has been dispersed. Now I only have the title of Saintess but no real power, and my only old friend has also been murdered."
"In the whole of Janusapolis, the only person I can rely on is you—"
Oliver was also aware of some background information.
Just as Mortis said, the Saintesses of City of Janus had been figureheads for several generations, all puppets.
They had become tools for the authorities to transmit false divine decrees.
She could only listen to the Titan's prophecy, tell it to the authorities, and then the authorities would modify the content of the prophecy according to their interests before interpreting it to others.
Mortis felt this was wrong and attempted to resist, which is why the Damnatio faction viewed her as a thorn in their side and sought to kill her.
Of course, the high-ranking political and religious figures in other factions also wanted the exclusive power to deliver the divine decree.
Because the divine decrees of the Three Fates Titan were prophecies, the entire Amphoreus, comprising tens of thousands of city-states, believed them.
Even if personal agendas were mixed into the divine decree, everyone would still believe it.
Thus, the person delivering the decree could influence thousands of city-states with a single thought and also amass vast wealth!
Therefore, the high-ranking political and religious figures all wanted to be the foremost person below the divine, making it necessary to kill or imprison the Saintess.
In a theocratic political system, the High Priestess and Saintess are the rulers, yet Mortis was still marginalized—which shows how rebellious the current authorities are.
"In that case, today's itinerary is set."
Oliver stood up, straightened his clothes, and then extended his hand to the red-haired beauty.
"Where are we going?"
Mortis asked, looking confused.
Oliver curved his lips and replied, "I'll take you to kill someone."
--- The officials and priests of Janusapolis all work at the Temple of the Three Fates.
Mortis was extremely familiar with the interior, making it easy to find people.
"Vincullum, High Priest, in charge of funerals. He is most deeply involved with Damnatio, and he participated in the assassination plot."
The voice of the married woman beside him was truly magnetic, and Oliver found it pleasant to listen to.
He slightly tilted his head and saw Mortis holding a small notebook.
It seemed to be full of names—sure enough, beautiful women hold grudges.
"You don't need to tell me their crimes. You name one, and I kill one. It's that simple."
Hearing Oliver's domineering words, Mortis's heart did not feel fear; instead, it pounded fiercely.
Women admire strength, and she was no exception.
Having such a powerful male emitting hormones beside her inevitably made her heart race.
Oliver's trust, in particular, flattered Mortis immensely.
"Stop! No one is allowed entry without authorization from Lord Vincullum!"
When the two reached their destination, two Guards blocked their path at the entrance.
Even though the person in front of them was the High Priestess, the Saintess who delivered the decrees, and the newly arrived Divine Envoy, these two Guards showed no respect.
It was clear that Mortis was truly a commander with no troops.
"Tsk."
Oliver impatiently waved his hand.
Two branches appeared out of nowhere, bound the Guards, dragged them underground, and turned them into fertilizer.
The two Guards never cried out, even as they died.
Oliver led Mortis into a large room.
A middle-aged man was sitting in the deepest part of the room. He seemed to be writing a letter, completely unaware of the intruders.
"Is he Vincullum?"
Oliver spoke up, confirming the identity with Mortis beside him.
Mortis nodded, "Yes, that's him."
Hearing the commotion, Vincullum finally looked up, frowning at Oliver and Mortis.
"Saintess, Divine Envoy, you—"
Swoosh!
Thud!
Before he could finish speaking, two golden branches appeared out of nowhere, directly piercing through Wenkulum's chest, suspending his entire body in mid-air.
Bright red blood flowed down the branches to the ground.
Wenkulum stared with bulging eyes, unable to speak, and then breathed his last.
He never imagined he would die so carelessly in his final second.
Even his wallet was swiped by the other party!
"Let's go, next one."