He looked rather miserable, with gray and white hair messily covering his face, and his body was dirty, stained with blood.
Seeing this, Hu ao felt a bit delighted. So the so-called Your Eminence was also an ordinary person, caught off guard by this sudden encounter.
Hu ao wanted to say something else, but his gaze seemed to be captured by something.
His eyes were locked onto Miguel's head, and Hu ao couldn't help but swallow, his mind tempted and fired up.
It was an exquisite crown, without any ornate jewelry embellishments, nor any astonishing craftsmanship, just a simple crown with elegant curves intertwined like laurel branches.
This was a crown without any material value, tossed to a jeweler's hand, they wouldn't even give it a second glance.
This was a crown of extraordinary value, symbolizing power and desire, embodying the Orthodox Pope. Although the ceremony was rudely interrupted, Miguel had long grown impatient to wear it.
