Half the city had already been reduced to ruins by the clash of lightning and overwhelming power, and the outcome of this battle was utterly unexpected. That Franklin, empowered by the immense will of his followers and the eons of Light Energy accumulated within the Temple, should meet such a tragic end was something no one could have foreseen.

“What happened to him?” A familiar voice sounded from beside him.

He Yiming glanced sideways at his companion, surprised. In his memory, Bai Lingba rarely concerned himself with the affairs of outsiders.

“Brother Bai, Franklin wielded power that did not truly belong to him. That power placed an unbearable strain on his body,” He Yiming mused, speaking slowly. “Under the concealment and repair of the Light Energy, his body could barely hold together, but the moment he was separated from it, his physical form could no longer bear such a burden and would collapse completely.”

Bai Lingba nodded slowly, tilting his head as if deep in thought about something.

He Yiming let out a long sigh. “One should exert only as much strength as they possess. To waste the power of the Divine Path with a frail physique is simply courting death.”

In his lifetime, Franklin had been a peak expert of the Human Path. While his physical constitution could not compare to that of a Sacred Beast, it certainly could not be described as frail. Yet, upon hearing He Yiming’s assessment, both Sacred Beasts nodded simultaneously, completely concurring with the statement.

Though the pinnacle of the Human Path was formidable, the Divine Path was an entirely different matter. For a Human Path peak body to manipulate Divine Path power was akin to asking a ten-year-old child to wield a hundred-pound meteor hammer. Before they could strike down an enemy, they would likely be crushed to death by the hammer's sheer weight first.

Compared to the might of the Divine Realm, Franklin was indeed rendered frail.

Bai Lingba abruptly turned his head and asked, “How is your body?”

During his confrontation with Franklin, He Yiming had also been inundated with the Light Energy. If Franklin could not endure it, how could he be an exception?

Shaking his head slightly, He Yiming stated calmly, “Rest assured, I did not absorb too much Light Energy.” He paused. “Actually, Franklin should have known this principle too. But the Light Energy was an irresistible temptation for him, given his pure Light Physique. That is likely why he uncontrollably made a choice that exceeded his limits.”

He Yiming’s words were laced with regret. Although they were enemies, seeing a peak expert of the Human Path end his life in such a manner still moved him deeply.

The path of cultivation was indeed a dangerous road strewn with thorns. The slightest carelessness could lead to eternal damnation.

With a deep sigh, He Yiming bent down and retrieved the crown, robes, and the Staff of Light from Franklin’s body.

Flipping through them casually, he indeed found a spatial item on the Pope. However, this item surprised He Yiming, as it turned out to be a rare belt.

He Yiming did not inspect the contents but swept everything into the Five Elements World in one go.

Although much of this city had been reduced to ruins, many eyes were still fixed on He Yiming. When they saw him ruthlessly strip the Pope of all his treasures, they were consumed by fury. Yet, no matter how indignant they felt, not a single person dared to step forward and intervene.

The sheer might unleashed by He Yiming and his party upon their arrival had utterly stunned everyone present. After the death of His Holiness the Pope, no one dared to actively challenge He Yiming again.

Having secured all the items, He Yiming looked up at the towering Temple, which still stood without even a scratch, his gaze rather peculiar.

Inside the Temple, the hidden experts felt a chill run through them. Though their complexions were ashen, their gazes remained steadfast.

If He Yiming truly intended to demolish the entire Temple, they would fight to the death to stop him. Perhaps their strength was insufficient to halt He Yiming, but before they were all annihilated, He Yiming would not easily succeed in tearing down the structure.

However, He Yiming merely gazed for a moment, then mounted his white horse and called out in a clear voice, “If others do not offend me, I shall not offend them. Should they provoke me, I shall repay them a hundredfold…”

Before the words had fully faded, the white horse had already galloped away, disappearing in an instant. Only that long, echoing voice remained hanging over the city.

When the white silhouette vanished into the horizon, several figures flew out of the Temple in haste.

They gathered around Franklin’s bloody corpse, sorrow etched onto every face. The mightiest pillar supporting the Temple for centuries had collapsed in that moment. Such a sudden change was difficult for everyone to accept. They blinked, as if doubting whether the entire event was merely a dream.

But soon, the sounds of weeping drifting from the surroundings made them realize that everything had happened for real.

A white-haired elder suddenly declared, “Pray! Let us summon the Holy Soul of the Lord!”

Several people beside him knelt down in unison. They held noble positions within the Temple, accustomed to being obeyed instantly and living lives of luxury. But at this moment, they disregarded the filth, sitting down on the ground without hesitation, heedless of the sewage or the gore.

Strange chants began to issue from their mouths, imbued with a powerful, unique energy. Their focus was absolute; every syllable seemed to drain immense strength, and soon, this peculiar method of chanting caused them to break out in profuse sweat.

Still, none gave up. They seemed utterly convinced that some miracle would occur.

After a long while, a faint, weak light slowly began to emerge from Franklin’s corpse.

Seeing this, those gathered grew even more exhilarated. Their fatigue seemed to vanish, and the sounds issuing from their mouths grew louder.

Finally, that faint light began to condense, eventually forming a spectral image of Franklin.

If He Yiming were present to witness this scene, he would surely recall the pitiable Speaker of the Dark Alliance. That peak expert of the Human Path, assassinated by a trusted companion, had, after death, manifested a burst of intent—perhaps through sheer, unyielding will, or the final belief that he must drag someone down with him—temporarily existing in this world through mental projection.

Franklin, clearly, did not possess such formidable willpower or any lingering conviction strong enough to anchor him. Thus, after his death, his consciousness had begun to dissipate slowly.

However, the Temple, having been inherited for tens of thousands of years, possessed mysterious and powerful capabilities. Its elders had employed some secret technique to recollect the consciousness of Franklin, which was already fading. Although this reprieve would not last long, it was an astonishing feat.

“You… are all here.” The spectral Franklin swept his gaze around. He seemed to have found peace. “He Yiming is too strong. You must not provoke him again.”

The elders of the Temple exchanged glances. They had gone to such lengths to summon the Pope’s intent back, only for his first words to be a warning against seeking revenge.

The leading white-haired elder bowed deeply. “Venerable His Holiness, do you have any further instructions?”

“Both Garfield and I are dead. The Western World has no more peak experts. The expedition to Iceland this time is no longer something you can interfere with,” Franklin stated calmly. “Until a new Human Path peak expert emerges in the West, the Venerables are forbidden from entering the East.”

The numerous elders bowed in immediate assent.

“Lido, you shall inherit the position of Pope. Let the glory of the Light God be passed down forever.” Franklin’s voice rose slightly.

Before his death, his physical body had been utterly dominated by that immense power. But after the elders pulled his consciousness back from the brink of dissolution, his state of mind regained calm, and he began methodically settling his affairs. Only at the moment of appointing his successor did his voice fluctuate for a single instant.

The white-haired elder, Lido, prostrated himself deeply, touching his forehead to the ground as he respectfully accepted the command. Although he knew that taking the mantle of Pope at this critical juncture for the Temple was likely no blessing, his strength and prestige in the entire Temple were second only to His Holiness the Pope, meaning this burden could only fall upon him.

Franklin looked at his own bloody corpse. With his wisdom, he naturally knew into whose hands the items upon him had fallen.

A moment later, he suddenly said, “Edwin.”

The handsome Edwin stepped forward immediately, bowing respectfully. “Your Majesty.”

Among the four who had escaped the nameless island in the past, Edwin was the most outstanding disciple of the Temple.

“You, take my remains to a certain place,” Franklin’s tone was extremely grave. “If you can find that place, and secure assistance there, then the treasures we lost and the glory of the Light God will return to our hands.”

Edwin’s head snapped up, and he spoke in a deep voice, “Your Majesty, where is that place?”

Franklin’s head began to fade. Without the support of a body, his consciousness finally began to dissipate—truly, completely scattering into the world.

Yet, the last words he left behind continued to echo in their ears.

“Beyond the sea, the Island of Gods…”