Chapter 81

The prince walked back, leaning on his cane, feeling his face burning. He
thought he was consumed by embarrassment and rage because of the priest’s
rejection. Afraid of exposing his ugly side to others, he hastened his steps
back to the temporary wooden hut where he resided.

The room was as dilapidated and simple as the one the priest lived in. Randes
felt as if he was sweating all over. He took off his shirt, revealing numerous
scars on his arms and back from escaping the fire. Sweat trickled down his
body. The prince lay on the hard wooden bed, his heart beating so fast that it
felt like it might burst out of his chest.

“I have no tact in such matters. I’m completely at a loss, overly
anxious and rash. I’ve behaved terribly.”

“Is God punishing me? No, I don’t believe it. There’s no God in this
world. If there were, how could it watch me suffer so much? Can’t it see how
devout my wishes are?”

“No, I shouldn’t think about this anymore. It’s drained me too much
mentally. Before things get worse, I must restrain myself, force myself to
forget about this…”

Randes thought hazily, almost unaware if he had fallen asleep or passed out.

The wrenching pain in his stomach woke him up, followed by intense vomiting.

The prince emptied his stomach of its contents and then realized—he was
equally vulnerable to the disease as the poor. He didn’t fear the illness;
likewise, the illness didn’t fear him. Choosing to strike him hard just before
leaving Colby was like the priest’s rejection, a mockery of his excessive
pride.

Randes felt feverish, weak in his limbs. The violent vomiting emptied his
stomach. He felt heat on the surface of his body, yet strangely, he also felt
cold somewhere.

Oh, this disease came on fiercely.

The prince struggled to sit up, but his limbs were unresponsive. His
strength drained from his body like water, leaving him lying on the hard bed.
Fortunately, all his senses had dulled, and the terrifying feeling of the
disease had weakened considerably.

“Your Highness—”

The panicked cry of the youth pulled the prince’s thoughts back from chaos.
He barely opened his eyes; it was already daylight. The youth’s voice sounded
urgent through a layer of something.

“Oh, Your Highness, you’re infected. My goodness, your forehead is
burning!”

Randes wanted to shake his head or say something, disliking the youth’s
exaggerated reaction, as if he were dying.

But just a little infectious disease, it wouldn’t take his life, he
believed.

“I’ll immediately go find the priest, Your Highness, don’t worry. I’ll
go call the priest to come and pray for you. You’ll get better—”

The youth rushed out, leaving Randes lying numbly on the wooden bed. It took
him a while to comprehend the youth’s meaning.

He was going to find the priest to pray for him…

A sudden jolt shot through Randes’ brain.

Heavens, this meddlesome youth. What’s the big deal with an infectious
disease? What good would prayer do? No, if the priest were to see him in such a
weak and feeble state, he would never be able to face him again!

Randes thought maybe the priest would hold his hand like he did with other
patients, compassionately saying, “God bless you,” wiping the vomit
from his mouth…

Randes erupted with a burst of strength.

It all came from his willpower. He pushed his arms back against the wooden
bed, feeling his muscles trembling. Sweat poured down his face, wetting his
cheeks. He gritted his teeth and let out a breath, as if a python struggling to
swallow its prey, temporarily swallowing his illness.

No, I won’t let him see me like this.

Randes’ mind was foggy, completely forgetting that the priest was blind.

With astonishing willpower, the prince moved his ailing body out of the
small wooden hut. So when the youth brought the priest back to the hut, they
found the prince missing, causing the youth to exclaim, “My goodness,
where’s the prince?!”

The priest remained calm. From afar, he sensed the emptiness of the small
wooden hut.

“Oh, dear God—” The youth panicked, pacing around the room.
“Who took away His Highness the prince?!”

Infectious diseases can render a person completely powerless, causing
seizures, high fevers, and intense weakness, especially in the initial stages.
Afflicted individuals usually remain bedridden. Therefore, the youth never
imagined that the prince had left on his own. He assumed someone had discovered
the ailing prince and taken him away.

“Let’s go back to the ward,” Brune suggested. “Perhaps
someone has brought the prince to the ward.”

The three of them returned to the ward, but obviously, the prince wasn’t
there either.

Having heard the youth’s cries, both Brune and Sharman were deeply
concerned. Brune was visibly anxious, and Sharman, “equally anxious,”
seeing the three of them rushing back and forth, instructed his nearby guards
to call out loudly, “Gentlemen, please, tell us if the prince is
infected?”

The youth shouted back, “Yes, the prince is infected!”

Brune’s knees weakened, and he exclaimed, “Oh my God—”

Sharman echoed, “Oh my God—”

Thank God, he finally remembered how unfortunate Randes was. Sharman was
overjoyed, his face flushing red. He covered his nose with a handkerchief,
coughed lightly twice, and said, “Oh, Brune, this is truly unfortunate. I
must return to the palace to report to my father.”

“No,” Brune said decisively. “This news must not reach the
king; it will worsen his condition.”

“Yes, I’m too upset. My goodness, Randes is really unlucky. If only he
had listened to my father and withdrawn yesterday, maybe none of this would
have happened…”

The more Sharman thought about it, the happier he felt. Fate was favoring
him, giving him another chance to kick his detestable brother. What could be
better than that?

Since Randes was unwilling to leave the ward, he might as well die here!

After dealing with a few more words, Sharman quickly left with his men,
citing feeling unwell as his excuse.

Brunier watched the carriage disappear into the distance, fury rising in his
chest. He gripped the fence and shouted loudly, “Father, Father
Eugene—”

The priest came over.

Brune pleaded earnestly, “Father, Randes is my nephew. He has suffered
frequent misfortune since childhood, but he has never given up on life. He is
so resilient, full of willpower. The disease won’t defeat him; I’m sure of it.
I beg you to take care of him, pray for him. He will be the future ruler of Esburg.
Yes, I have no reservations. Father, I believe you are qualified to baptize Randes,
given that he is already a noble prince. You should at least be a bishop.”
Brune reached out his hand. “Father, please allow me to kiss your fingers,
to pledge my oath. I will recommend you as the bishop of this district,
granting you the dignified status you deserve, so that everyone will bow to
your virtues.”

The priest didn’t extend his hand. “Dear Commander, everything the
prince has done for Colby commands my respect. I will do my utmost to care for
him, just as I do for other patients. This has nothing to do with your
assurances of my position.”

Tears welled up in Brune’s eyes. “Father, dear Father, please allow me
to kiss your fingers, just for your nobility.”

The priest handed his hand through the fence to the commander and whispered
softly, “I won’t allow anyone to take the prince’s life in my presence,
not even Satan.”

While the youth and his companions searched everywhere for the prince, the
priest didn’t join the frantic search. With closed eyes, he calmly sensed a
powerful force to the north.

What surprised the priest was that this force seemed to be in a
semi-floating state, as if it were about to leave this world at any moment.

Compared to the previous two worlds, this force seemed to have weakened
somewhat.

Without hesitation, the priest walked northward. He didn’t know if something
was amiss, but he wouldn’t allow the Alliance to do anything to the
protagonist. The protagonist was his plaything, his source of amusement. Only
he could manipulate and enjoy him. If anyone dared to usurp control over the
protagonist, he wouldn’t be polite.

Randes dragged his ailing body aimlessly, or perhaps not so aimlessly. His
subconscious still avoided areas inhabited by healthy people. Squinting, he
tried to walk towards less crowded corners. Before his traces were discovered,
he finally found an abandoned wooden shed by the riverbank. It might have been
the dwelling of a vagrant in the past, but the prince didn’t care. He collapsed
inside.

He was truly exhausted, his whole body protesting against his stubbornness.
His bones, his muscles, all groaned in complaint as he lay on the ground, as
peaceful as lying in a coffin.

“I won’t die,” the prince muttered to himself with conviction,
“just endure these two days, and I’ll be fine.”

“Don’t let him see my ugliness; he’ll look down on me even more.”

“I can do it, Randes, you have to believe in yourself. You are the king
of the entire continent; this little thing can’t defeat you.”

“Eugene…”

The prince thought he was silently speaking to himself, but his calls had
already reached the priest’s ears.

The priest’s footsteps halted outside the wooden shed. He heard the prince’s
slightly labored breaths and his calls filled with sorrow and reluctance. He
couldn’t help but smile at first, then he continued to hear languages not
belonging to this world.

“Zǐguī…”

“Xiǎo Yǐn…”

The prince’s delirious words not only exposed himself but also finally
confirmed to the priest outside the shed that the extraordinary powers of these
few exceptionally strong little worlds were of the same origin.

Could the protagonist who could “rebirth” after collapse be
considered immortal?

That was truly akin to not dying.

The priest stood quietly outside the wooden shed, feeling that things seemed
to be getting more and more interesting, more and more worth exploring. Perhaps
the protagonist, like him, was also aware that this was just a small world,
hiding behind characters and dealing with him.

Sensing the chaotic energy with his spiritual power, the priest believed
that the protagonist probably didn’t know. He was just too weak, accidentally
exposing the “true self.”

Memories of the previous two worlds flooded into his mind.

The priest chuckled softly and stepped into the wooden shed.

The prince had already completely passed out. The blind priest, relying on
his senses, squatted down and placed his palm on the prince’s face. The
prince’s face was burning hot, and what he touched was the injured part of the
prince’s face, which felt rough and rugged.

“Ugly.”

The priest murmured softly, patting the prince’s face.

The prince mumbled indistinctly.

The priest’s arms passed through the prince’s back, holding him in his arms.
Only then did he realize that the prince was shirtless, his muscles strong,
which suited the priest’s preferences. Taking advantage of the other’s unclear
consciousness, the priest seized the opportunity to inquire, “What are
you?”

The prince couldn’t hear clearly what the priest was asking. In fact, he
didn’t even know that the priest he desperately wanted to avoid had come to his
side. He just tightened his brows in pain, futilely muttering a word. This time
the priest heard clearly; the prince said, “Don’t leave me.”