Winning the male lead

“Le Tian and Land spent all their time fooling around, and the system frequently went into shielding mode. Whenever it emerged, it had to witness the two of them swapping saliva now and then. When it discovered that Land actually intended to marry off Helena, it thought it was fantastic. The moment Land succeeded, it planned to notify Le Tian immediately so that he could quickly leave this world.

Le Tian was furious. “Don’t you think you’re going too far?”

The system felt inexplicably guilty but still insisted, “What’s wrong with completing the task?”

Le Tian said, “You kept this from me. That’s a sign of distrust. I’m so disappointed in you.”

The system was actually a bit ashamed by his words and immediately shifted the blame to Land. “It was Land who kept it from you.”

Le Tian fumed, “I’ll deal with him later.”

At this moment, Cyril remained silent, his face dark and grim, which pierced Land’s heart. He let go of Le Tian’s shoulder and asked softly, “Are you angry?”

Le Tian snorted coldly. “What do you think?”

Of course, he had gotten angry with Land before. In fact, he often did. But Land always felt that he wasn’t truly angry—it was more like playful bickering, which he actually enjoyed.

Every time Le Tian got mad, Land pictured a little cat playfully scratching.

This time, though, he finally witnessed his real fury. Holding back his discomfort, he said in a low voice, “Are you really that reluctant to part with her? Do you have to marry her?”

Le Tian nearly kicked him to death. Seriously? I worked so hard to set this up, and now you’re messing everything up. He was too annoyed to argue further and turned around to leave.

Communication in this era was underdeveloped—messages mostly relied on word of mouth, and carrier pigeons weren’t particularly useful. By the time a message arrived, Le Tian could have already reached Xiondor. Without wasting time, he immediately gathered his royal guards, who had been resting at the Holy Sea, and informed them they were heading to Xiondor.

The royal guards of the Orland Empire were all unwaveringly loyal. If Le Tian told them to go east, they wouldn’t head west. They immediately prepared to depart.

He had been indulging in pleasure for some time. When he mounted his horse, he felt a bit dizzy and asked the system in alarm, “What’s wrong with me?”

The system calmly replied, “Probably kidney deficiency.”

Le Tian thought to himself—Yeah, I’ve been too reckless lately. Land is the Son of God, so his stamina is practically unlimited, but Cyril isn’t made of iron. No matter how good his physique is, it can’t withstand constant exhaustion.

Le Tian reflected deeply. “I need to practice abstinence.”

The system dismissed that as nonsense.

Just as Le Tian mounted his horse, Land came chasing after him. He thought that no matter how angry Le Tian was, he would only throw a tantrum within the Holy Sea. He hadn’t expected that he would actually leave.

Land blocked the horse. “Don’t go.”

The Holy Sea’s envoys all looked pained. Over time, they had come to understand—their Pope had been completely bewitched by this demonic king.

Yes, in their minds, Cyril had already been promoted from “lunatic” to “demon.”

Even though they didn’t like Cyril, they couldn’t bear to see their Pope being treated so poorly. They stepped forward and stood behind Land, forming a wall of human flesh to pressure Le Tian.

Le Tian had no way to explain things to Land. If you keep blocking me, we’ll end up having a breakup farewell round in bed in a few days. He snapped, “Move!”

Land remained in front of the horse, his deep blue eyes filled with sorrow. He said nothing, yet it was as if he had spoken volumes.

Le Tian almost cried. Steeling himself, he warned, “Don’t make me hate you.”

Land froze for a moment, and Le Tian saw his world shatter.

The Holy Sea’s envoys and priests once again glared at Le Tian in rage. He felt like his whole body was riddled with arrows, but this was for love! Land would have to be the one to suffer for now.

Land slowly lowered his arms.

The envoys thought they saw their Pope dimming like a fading light.

Le Tian hardened his heart and ordered his guards, “Go!” If he didn’t leave now, he feared he would soften and stay behind.

A hundred knights rode away without hesitation, vanishing into the dust.

The envoys were covered in dust but didn’t care—they rushed to check on their abandoned Pope. Damn it! How dare someone treat our Pope like this? If Land gave the word, they would immediately rally the scattered believers across the continent and wipe out both Orland and that demonic king.

Land stood there for a long time. His exquisite white robe was now stained with dust. He stared at the hoofprints Le Tian left behind and softly said, “Everyone, go back.”

The envoys were relieved that their Pope remained so composed. They were grateful that the demonic king hadn’t completely seduced him.

Land took two steps back under their gratified gazes—then suddenly wavered and collapsed.

…

Le Tian and his men rode tirelessly until they arrived at Xiondor. The guards at the city gate immediately recognized him—the once-reclusive king of Orland, Cyril.

This was all thanks to Victor. By now, almost everyone on the continent knew that Le Tian liked wearing a mask. Coupled with the royal guards behind him, his identity was obvious.

Le Tian didn’t waste words. The journey had taken ten days, and he had only bathed twice. He felt utterly filthy, all thanks to Land—That little minx, truly sinful.

“I want to see your king,” he said coldly.

The guards hesitated. “Do you mean our newly crowned Queen?”

Le Tian hadn’t expected Helena to have taken the throne in just over a month. That complicates things. “That’ll do,” he replied.

Soon, a royal envoy escorted him into the palace.

Xiondor was indeed a small country. The main hall of the palace wasn’t even one-tenth the size of Land’s bedroom. It was terribly cramped. Le Tian thought, This country is so poor, yet its king had so many mistresses. Look at me—I’m the mighty king of Orland, and aside from Land, I don’t have a single lover. And yet he is still unsatisfied. Outrageous.

Helena arrived quickly. Compared to her previous wary and desolate demeanor, she now exuded confidence and poise. Wearing a regal dress and a ruby crown, she greeted Cyril with a bright smile.

“King Cyril,” she curtsied slightly and said warmly, “I invited you to my coronation, but you didn’t come. Why are you here now?”

No doubt, the invitation had been tossed aside by Land.

Le Tian sighed. “I have something important to discuss.”

Helena’s expression became serious. “Shall we speak inside?”

“No need.” He frowned. “I’m here to tell you—do not annul our engagement.”

Helena’s face froze. “You… aren’t you with the Pope…?”

Is my relationship with Land that obvious? Le Tian felt a little guilty but kept a cold expression. “So what? I can’t marry him.”

Helena was stunned by his sheer scumbag energy. She had always thought he was a gentle man—she never expected him to treat the Pope this way.

And that was the Pope!

She suddenly felt uneasy. She had gained the throne solely because of Land’s decree. Clearly, a single word from him could take it away. If she had any sense at all, she would never dare compete with the Pope for a man.

She sighed deeply. “If the Holy Pope has no objections, I agree.”

Le Tian breathed a sigh of relief.

After saying goodbye, he rushed back to the Holy Sea—he was dying to see Rand.

But upon arrival, the city gates were shut.

A Holy Sea envoy, his face icy, declared, “King Cyril, please leave. The Holy Pope has decreed that no one from Orland is allowed into the city.”

Sitting atop his horse, Le Tian was stunned.

Had he… been dumped?