On the second day, martial law was lifted. They had to be cautious about remaining in that state for too long, lest panic set in among the people. However, it was all just appearances. The Inquisition was as busy as ever, searching every nook and cranny for their lost Archangel.
Lan Jue stood before the window of his hotel room. He stood there, with a small grin on his face, watching the Cathedral from afar.
“What’s the next step?” Zhou Qianlin stood at his shoulder and followed his eyes to the seat of the Pontiff’s power. They hadn’t stepped foot outside all day, and had only eaten from the hotel’s cafeteria. Lan Jue had spent most of that time silently staring out of the window.
“We’re in no rush,” Lan Jue said. “They’re the ones with their hair on fire for the moment. They’re waiting to hear from us. So that’s what we’re going to do.”
ζ
Half an hour later, a paper slip was being delivered to Metatron.
