Vatican City was bathed in golden sunlight, as if the Great Heavenly Father was blessing them from above. On the ancient streets, every cobblestone, every seam between bricks, every patch of mottled granite reflected the golden light, and the central Cathedral, soaring thousands of meters high, drew gasps of "City of Glory!" from every believer who came to the Vatican. This was the Vatican City rebuilt after the War of '93, its territory now at least thirty times vaster than the nations of ancient Earth before that conflict. It could even be said that the entire Apennine Peninsula belonged to the Vatican; after the War of '93, this land became known as the Vatican Papal State, a nation within the Federation.

Inside the secret temple hundreds of meters beneath the ground, beneath the gleaming white central Cathedral overlaid with a thin layer of silver foil, Ziter, shrunk down to the height of a common man, was gritting his teeth, pressed to the floor. The current Pope, Gulit I, stern and imposing with a great white beard, rolled up his sleeves, raising a silver great-axe with a clenched jaw, hesitating as he looked down at Ziter. Cold sweat streamed down Gulit I’s face; his hand trembled, and the silver great-axe shook with it.

The twelve Cardinal Archbishops in golden robes, the thirty-six Cardinals in scarlet, the over one hundred Archbishops in white, and other high-ranking figures of the Curia, all assigned to guard the Vatican, trembled as they formed a circle within the temple, their eyes fixed tensely on Gulit I at the center. After nearly five minutes of silence, a handsome youth clad in blood-red armor and a black cloak finally commanded in a low voice, "Your Majesty... do not hesitate... for the sake of Lord Ziter, strike now!"

Gulit I’s hand twitched. He stared fixedly at the six wings of Zhang Qiao spread flat on Ziter’s back, finally letting out a wild roar.

Swish! The silver great-axe cleaved down fiercely. An axe carrying the full force of Gulit I’s strength landed precisely on a damaged joint of one of Ziter's wings. The twisted, knotted bones and sinews within the wing shattered with a crack. Ziter, who had kept his eyes squinted as if in a coma, suddenly snapped them open and let out a piercing, heart-rending scream.

As a Six-Winged Archangel, Ziter’s physical durability surpassed all comprehension. Even so, the pain from the damage to his flesh was beyond what any ordinary person could endure. What was especially agonizing was that the strike had pulverized an old injury Ziter had sustained and self-healed during the Thirteen-Star War. Due to a self-preservation mechanism, a large amount of Holy Power had gathered around those damaged areas, and the destruction of such a long-standing wound brought a pain so intense it almost choked Ziter unconscious.

"Praise the Great Heavenly Father!" Upon the Pope’s axe blow, all the high-ranking Curia members gathered nearby simultaneously chanted the holy name of the Heavenly Father and thrust their hands towards the heavens.

The high Gothic vaulted ceiling was embedded with tens of thousands of Zakla energy crystals, each the size of a human head, every single one containing immensely powerful Holy Light energy. This was the 'Spirit Crystal of Light' manufactured by the Church using secret arts—a vital strategic resource for the Holy See. The single white crystal that Gu Yechen had snatched from Andre back then was one such Spirit Crystal of Light.

All the Spirit Crystals of Light simultaneously emitted dazzling white light, shrouding the vast temple in milky-white Holy Power. The bodies of hundreds of top clerics were enveloped in the white glow, becoming nearly transparent within it. Two ethereal wings sprouted simultaneously from their backs. A circle, layer upon layer of complex magical array halos surged up from beneath their feet, weaving together through countless thorny rose branches to form an overwhelmingly intricate grand magic array composed of hundreds of thousands of interconnected smaller formations.

The immense Holy Light Power churned and converged within the array, finally condensing into a stream of white liquid, about a foot long and as thick as a pencil, which slowly seeped into Ziter’s body. Ziter, who had been screaming, let out a moan of relief as the shattered joints of his wing healed at a speed visible to the naked eye, becoming as pristine and whole as they had been when he was first born.

Ziter took a deep breath and commanded in a low voice, "Gulit, continue... continue!" Gulit I wiped the sweat from his brow and replied with utmost reverence, "Yes, Your Eminence!"

Dong! Another axe blow slammed down fiercely, and Ziter let out another agonizing howl. The colossal magic array spun rapidly, and after nearly half an hour of effort, it managed to condense another stream of white liquid, which slowly flowed into Ziter’s body. Another old wound on Ziter’s body healed rapidly under the nourishment of the white liquid, and he cried out with a sound that was both painful and satisfying.

An axe blow, and another, and another. Ziter’s cries alternated between agonizing screams, gasps of breath, and moans of relief! After a full three days and nights of this refinement, all the old injuries on Ziter’s body were healed. Surrounded by a pure, lustrous Holy Light like white jade, Ziter lightly fluttered his six wings and slowly levitated into the air. Taking a deep breath, Ziter clenched his fists and looked up at the tens of thousands of massive Spirit Crystals of Light embedded in the temple dome.

All the Spirit Crystals of Light dimmed simultaneously, and tens of thousands of blinding white lights erupted from them, rapidly surging into Ziter’s body. The oppressive aura emanating from Ziter grew stronger and stronger, eventually causing the very space around him to vibrate, sending out visible, transparent ripples that spread swiftly. Everyone, from Gulit I downwards, immediately knelt on the ground, devoutly chanting the holy name of the Heavenly Father and praising Ziter’s greatness and glory.

Having absorbed the tremendous energy from all the Spirit Crystals of Light that the Church had spent centuries accumulating, Ziter, who had been wizened and aged, returned to his optimal condition. His appearance became young and handsome, and his physique turned robust and strong. Ziter surveyed his body with satisfaction and nodded majestically to Gulit I: "My children, it is through your efforts that I have recovered my full strength... I will lead you, and the splendor of our race shall cover the entire universe! All heretics shall ultimately turn to dust and ashes!"

With a proud, cold sneer, Ziter muttered majestically and deeply, "Those detestable monks, not a single one of them reached the Void-Piercing Stage? How naïve... Although I am the weakest among the Six-Winged Angels, I possess the strength to surpass their Void-Piercing Stage and approach their so-called Great Completion state. Hmph, hmph..."

His wings gave a slight shake, and Ziter stated calmly, "All heretics shall tremble before the might of our race!" Gulit I and the others bowed their heads deeply to Ziter, a pair of white wings gently fluttering behind each of them.

With a sigh, Ziter slowly descended to the ground and said lightly, "Let those suffering children come in!" Hearing Ziter's command, Gulit I dared not delay. He quickly clapped his hands gently, the crisp sound echoing in the temple. Immediately, the temple's heavy, pure-silver doors opened silently. Over a hundred Church Knights, clad in silver armor, marched in with perfectly synchronized steps, carrying dozens of young men and women who were barely clinging to life, with no discernible energy signatures within them.

The first to be carried in, Angela, exerted every ounce of strength she possessed to try and raise herself, but she could only manage a slight movement of her body. Having had all her vital essence drained by Kan Hua, Angela lacked even the strength to speak. She looked at Ziter, who was radiating powerful Holy Light, with grief and indignation, her eyes reddening slightly. Her body, squeezed dry like sugarcane pulp chewed over a dozen times, only allowed a slight moisture to gather at the corner of her eye, but not a single tear could fall.

"O, evil heretics... those enemies destined for destruction!" Ziter's eyes flushed red; Angela's tragic state reminded him of his own kin. How many times had he seen kin just like Angela? Countless powerful angels whose vital blood had been drawn out by those wicked cultivators to refine various rare magical artifacts and elixirs. These unfortunate angels were then discarded carelessly like dross or slag across the lands of the Thirteen Stars, left only to wait silently for death.

Looking at Angela with pity, Ziter gently placed his hand on her forehead: "Dear child, the blood of our race flows within you! Though my power is insufficient to save those kin as mighty as I once was, I can at least save the nascent ones of our race... You are the hope of our lineage, and you shall forever bask in the glory of our race!" A surge of potent Holy Light shone upon Angela, and surging Holy Power rushed into her body. Angela cried out in a mix of pain and ecstasy. Her withered, shriveled body, like a dry reed stalk, rapidly filled out and swelled. Her dull, blackish-yellow skin quickly became supple, translucent, snow-white, and tender. Her depleted energy recovered swiftly, and in the blink of an eye, Angela was restored to her peak condition. With a whoosh of air displacement, Angela's two wings unfurled, and she slowly ascended. After circling the temple once, she respectfully landed and knelt before Ziter: "Great God, Angela is willing to sacrifice everything for Your glory!"

Ziter smiled kindly, expending his vital essence energy to heal Angela and the others one by one. The dozens of Two-Winged Angels, who had been treated as cauldrons and ceaselessly ravaged by Kan Hua and his group for nearly a year, were all restored. They knelt before Ziter, devoutly praising his greatness.

Smiling humbly, Ziter said lightly, "This is my fault; I failed to prevent you from attacking those wicked heretics. You must understand, their power is sufficient to deal with such young ones as yourselves!" Anfitt, standing beside Andre, stepped forward awkwardly. He knelt down, weeping profusely, crying out, "Great God, this is my fault!" Ziter hurriedly helped Anfitt up, kissed his forehead, and smiled faintly, "No, this is not your fault, my child. I understand your piety towards our race; I can sense your boundless love for our people. But the enemy is powerful. While we possess the strength to eliminate them now, we would have to pay an extremely heavy price!"