Chapter 200: Changes

After settling things in Pluto Church, York promptly returned home with Erin, who was still dazed and digesting her firearm training.

Arriving home, they were greeted by a lavish dinner and a nervous, fidgety Liss Murphy.

York wasn't surprised to find Liss at home, as Erin likely gave her a key, but he was astonished by the sumptuous meal laid out.

The table was filled with appetizers, main courses, and desserts.

He found it hard to imagine such a petite person preparing so much food.

York glanced at Erin, who stood beside him with a proud smile.

"Did you cook this?" York asked.

Liss nodded nervously, her breathing heavy with tension.

Not only could York hear her, but Erin also noticed and walked over, gently grabbing Liss's hand, offering her support.

York's lips twitched into a rare show of encouragement.

"Smells delicious."

After saying this, he walked into his room under the watchful eyes of a pleased Liss and a knowing Erin, ready to deal with the slick feeling on his body.

His large home was now divided into two areas, temporarily housing Liss, who would eventually move to school, and Erin, who preferred not to live elsewhere.

His room was somewhat of a no-go zone, off-limits without his permission.

"Thank goodness for the en-suite bathroom and shower." York shook his head, grabbed fresh clothes, and entered the bathroom.

"Otherwise..."

York undressed, discarding his slightly dirty priest robes and preparing to clean the traces of battle from his hands at the sink.

His reflection in the mirror revealed his naked physique.

Unlike the bulky, layered muscles of some bodybuilders, York's muscle groups were clearly defined. The fibers were visible, tightly woven into a resilient network, with smooth lines where each muscle snugly fit together, the texture and striations subtly visible beneath his skin.

His body was lean, without excess fat, exuding strength and explosive power whether in motion or at rest.

"My skin's a bit too soft."

York glanced at his reflection, used to his appearance by now. He scrubbed his hands vigorously, cleaning the invisible dust.

Then he began washing his slightly slimy body.

A touch didn't feel dirty, just slippery. York didn't understand the reason but had an inkling.

Novels from his past life often mentioned purifying the body, removing toxins, waste, and impurities to make it healthier and purer.

Such protagonists usually endured pain during the process.

"And me..."

York recalled the uncomfortable experience in the car, unsure: "Maybe it's similar? Just different from those protagonists."

York examined the slightly slimy, congealed substance on his hands.

"Unlike those protagonists' mysterious discharges, mine doesn't stink or feel dirty, so what is it? Well..."

York shook his head, washing it off. For him, as long as the result was good, everything was acceptable, dirty or not.

But he hadn't yet grasped the full extent of his overall physique's abilities.

As water cascaded over him, washing away the remnants, York thought about tests he could conduct.

"Only thing I can think of is trying out a knife."

Refreshed, York dressed and emerged from the bathroom, recalling past experiments.

Attributes on his personal panel influenced each other, like his previous test, slashing his wrist with a knife, affecting his health...

"Right now, I feel stronger, and my body lighter than ever."

York clenched his fist, throwing a light punch.

No elaborate movements or stances, yet his fist created a sound of air friction, echoing in the spacious room.

"The punch feels heavier than before. I wonder how heavy it can get? Can it reach a ton?"

York retracted his fist, glancing at the decorative items knocked over by his punch, then headed to the living room.

Without testing equipment, he couldn't gauge the weight of his punches.

Even if someone had the equipment, he couldn't test it for fear of damaging the machinery.

Despite this, York felt he had the potential to be a superhero. Even if he couldn't measure his punch's weight, shattering walls with a single blow was easily achievable.

Thanks to his physique and life force, unlike heavyweight boxers, he wouldn't tire after a few heavy punches. He could maintain maximum power output without feeling too exhausted...

"Is your school arrangement settled?" York asked Liss, sitting at the head of the table and forking a piece of steak into his mouth.

Liss glanced at Sister Erin, who smiled encouragingly at her.

"Sister Erin arranged for me to attend Ms. Camille's private school. I'm reporting there tomorrow."

"Oh."

York swallowed the perfectly cooked steak, saying indifferently: "Liss, study hard and make the most of this opportunity."

Liss nodded earnestly: "I will, Father York."

She looked at him determinedly, a change from her earlier timidity: "I'll definitely get into college and repay your kindness."

York smiled at her words, which sounded like a vow. Truthfully, he didn't need anyone's repayment, but he liked the feeling of people being grateful and trying to repay him, as he couldn't stand ingrates.

"Good. When you get into college, I'll attend your opening ceremony."

Liss's face lit up: "Really?"

"Of course, child." York put down his fork and knife, smiling: "I never lie."

Yes, he never lied, though he might occasionally omit details.

"This guy must be hiding something. It's hard to imagine him as a bishop."

In front of an antique table, Gabriel looked at the report he had just received, fretting and even rubbing his temples.

After reading these reports and comparing them with others sent from below, he sensed York was deliberately hiding something.

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