The Girl He Dumped Becomes a Billionaire.

Chapter 29

As usual, when the Pope is not attending to his earthly duties, he listens to the voice of God in the House of the Pantheon, and behind this more elegant expression is one of the prices that the Pope pays for having been given so much power by the "gods".

Some anti-clerical organizations and liberals have given the Pope the nauseating nickname "Slave of the Gods". According to them, the aristocrats have learned their methods of oppressing the lower classes from the supreme God.

Dancier felt a wave of unspeakable discomfort every time he entered the Pantheon. In the process of walking towards the altar, he swept his eyes over the idols with different postures on both sides of the road, and found that they all had the same face regardless of gender, while the Pantheon, which was "guarded" by many idols in the center of the temple, was undoubtedly the most inscrutable one. Because it not only can not see the age and gender, but also no five senses and representative of the identity of the decoration.

Hearing the sound of unhurried footsteps coming from behind him, the Pope, who was originally kneeling in front of the statue of the Pantheon, opened his eyes, and then slowly lowered his hands in front of his chest, and rebuked without looking back, "In the future, don't bring those unsavory women into your room."

Standing fixedly behind his father, Dancier swept his eyes at the God of Carnival, who was close to the statue of the Pantheon, and said with intent, "Are you sure you want to accuse me here?"

The Pope followed Dancil's line of sight and naturally understood what great disrespect this little brat was thinking.

"Forget it, I don't care how you made a mess before, but from today onwards, you must clean up after yourself." The Pope wanted to shelve a harsh sentence for Dancier, but he still couldn't be cruel enough to reprimand his favorite child, "The female Grand Duke of the Grand Duchy of Norsca has a good ear. If you stray from the range where I can clean up your mess, that young fox of Solins' alone will chew you to the bone."

With that, the Pope also raised his right arm, signaling Dancil to help him up.

"And don't you think of seeking skin with the tiger." For that little bit of his son's mind, the Pope didn't say that he could see it clearly, but he could guess it, "You are not Richard's opponent, and don't think of Richard as a simple-minded person like Ceasar."

The Pope had recently regretted that he had protected Danhir and Ariana so well that they had forgotten that the lice under the shiny skin could also eat people.

"Compared to that man-eating little bastard Richard, Marianne of Calda is your best choice." The Pope was a man who had been there before, and naturally understood that after youthful exuberance, what could be held in one's hand was the truest: "Although Marianne of Calda isn't any good to deal with, she is certainly more than a star better compared to Richard. Besides, you're no fan of taking care of territory, and Marianne needs a bruiser to fight her battles for her."

"Conquer for her?" Dancil lost his smile, "Don't talk so nobly about selling your life's work."

The Pope left the Pantheon, supported by his son, and retorted bluntly, "Since you don't want to make the job of selling your life sound so noble, don't take taking advantage of it so much for granted."

Dancil glanced sideways at the Pope's face, which resembled his.

The same white skin, the same painted brows.

The difference is that the Pope, who is in his sixties, has more deep wrinkles and less sharp edges than his graceful son.

I remember that more than two decades ago, when the youngest pope in history made his first appearance on the balcony of the Pantheon in a gown of gold threads on a white background, amidst the hoots and hollers of the crowds, a number of those who had come to watch the ceremony let out exclamations tinged with regret.

And now Dancier had inherited that regretful admiration, but not what his father had wanted him to learn.

"You look down on others who use you as a tool, but that same person who uses you as a tool will look down on you for being empty-handed." The Pope nudged Dancil's forehead, hoping he would snap out of his blind confidence.

"I can still plan for you and Ariana for now, but when I step down from this seat, who are you and Ariana going to rely on?" Because the pope's term of office was only thirty years, and because the current pope had angered the female grand dukes of the Grand Duchy of Norsca and the King of Obstar because of his youngest daughter's engagement to the King of Canterlot and his support of the King of Canterlot in his fight against Obstar, it was highly probable that those two would prevent the current pope from being re-elected.

If Dancier can marry Marianne, then the female Grand Duke of the Grand Duchy of Norsca will more or less look at her daughter's face and will not kill the Pope's family, and the King of Obstar will at most bring down the Pope himself, and it will be hard for him to extend his hand to the Duchy of Bretonnia or Canterlot itself.

"I don't want you and Irena to have to live as parasites again, dependent on the charity of others, when I die."

When Dancil let go, he realized that his father, who was walking against the light, no longer had the stiffness and spirit of his youth, causing Dancil, whose eyes were stinging raw from the sun, to feel a trance.

"I still remember when you brought me and Ariana back to the Papal States." Dancil tilted his head back to look at the snake-haired statue atop the doorframe.

The legendary banshee decapitated by the Pantheon was looking down at him, trying to lick Dancil's lips with her forked tongue.

"Never-ending desire is what makes people climb up the ladder."

"And what you crave requires you to sacrifice one part of your humanity to be used to bring another part of your humanity to fruition."

The Pope picked up on Dancil's exclamation.

The two men were separated into two worlds by an unclosed door.

It was as if they were the same person in different timelines, tugged by some marvelous power and given the opportunity to communicate across time and space.

"Win your bride, but don't underestimate her too much."

The Pope knew well that Dancier was too easily won over by women, and so was more gullible than ordinary men in believing that women were in love with him.

"You are not dealing with maidens waiting for invitations to balls, nor with prostitutes paid to do their bidding, but with ...... golden apple trees raised by the she-wolves of the Grand Duchy of Obstar and Norsca."

The Pope waved his hand, trying his best to find an adjective that better fit Marianne's stature, "And if necessary, you need not hope for Marianne's favor, but will have to find a way to gain her trust and support."

"Why?"

"Because she's the female Duke of the Duchy of Britannia and is quickly a cash cow for all parties to fight over." In the end, the old Pope was an old fox who had been in the political arena for decades, and even in his youth, he had dealt with Queen Mary, who had directly hammered Canterlot to the ground, the Duke of the Duchy of Bretonia, who had openly called out the King of Solins, as well as the Northern Alliance, who was seeking the greatest interests in the wars of various countries, so he was well aware of how low the bottom line of these people was, as well as that if Dancier dared to marry Marianne, he would definitely be milked dry by the latter. Marianne, he would be assassinated by the latter after draining his value.

After all, a strong dragon can't suppress a snake.

Besides, as far as Marianne was concerned, the resume of having married someone wasn't worth much at all, as long as she still had her knighthood, her money, and her better prospects.

And the Pope, now, isn't sure he'll be able to get justice for his son after Marianne flips out.