The atmosphere inside the cathedral was stifling.
The Pope looked on with a merciful expression, kneeling on the floor. His aged, heavy hand rested on the forehead of the corpse, his mouth murmuring soft prayers. The others stood with heads bowed and eyes closed, whispering along in a low drone.
Wang Han and his group felt distinctly out of place. To blend in, they simply lowered their heads and offered a moment of silence.
Chapter 300