Chapter 511: The Bishop tripped the horse's leg of the Knight

As a Demon King proficient in human nature, Luo Yan knows one thing very well.

That is, the enthusiasm of shareholders for the company is always more active than that of the CEO who gets off work on time.

For example, in the not-too-distant Twilight Saint Saint Xingsheng, there are ready-made examples for reference.

The same person in the same chair, doing almost the same thing, but showing completely different enthusiasm.

Just when

The central cathedral of Twilight City, the air here is exceptionally cold.

Even though the sun is shining brightly outside, the thick stone walls and stained-glass windows filter the dazzling sunlight into nothing but dim shadows.

Ever since Jimenez used the "Judgment Cross" on Ailin, pious believers always unconsciously avoid this place.

They would rather go to a cathedral further away to pray than inexplicably provoke the Inquisition.

But today is an exception.

The Viceroy, who has never had any presence in Twilight City, actually came here unexpectedly today and took the initiative to provoke the notorious Inquisition.

The prayer room of the cathedral, the heavy oak door is tightly closed.

The candlelight on the copper candlestick flickers, and the air is filled with the scent of burning sage, holy enough to be suffocating.

Baron Alaric, Viceroy of the Twilight Saint Saint Xingsheng, is standing in the shadow of a marble pillar.

He looks solemn, holding a mass of filthy things wrapped in black velvet in his hands, as if holding the severed arm of a demon.

Sitting opposite him is the big shot from the Shengcheng, Chief Inquisitor Jimenez.

And behind Jimenez, several accompanying theologians sit upright, their priest robes exuding a simple majesty under the candlelight.

"... This is the enemy we have to face, respected Chief Inquisitor."

Alaric said in a low voice, then slowly lifted the layer of velvet, revealing the handwritten manuscript wrapped in black cloth.

The edges of the pages are curled and blackened, the cover stained with dried blood and greasy stains, emitting a moldy smell unique to dungeons.

As if it had been marinated in filthy things.

"... This is what our jailers found in the interlayer of a death row inmate's bed board who tried to escape from prison after the riot last night."

Alaric picked open the cover with his fingertips in disgust, not hiding the loathing in his voice, to distance himself from it.

"That death row inmate is illiterate, but he can fluently recite every sentence and every word in this book and tell it to other prisoners... I reasonably suspect that the infiltration of the 'New Testament' is no longer just in the countryside, but has even infiltrated the literate citizens!"

Rumors about the "New Testament" have long been running rampant in the gutters of the Shengcheng like a plague.

However, for an inquisitor in a high position like Jimenez, this is the first time he has seen the real thing.

Jimenez leaned forward slightly, his gaze as sharp as a hawk's. He stared at the dirty pages, trying to see some clues from them.

"It seems that the witch's servants are not very respectful to their witch either," an elderly theologian chuckled, with a few traces of contempt in his eyes, "Actually making her demon book this dirty; did that prisoner run out of straw when wiping his ass?"

It can be seen that he is trying very hard to tell a joke. It's just that it's told too stiffly; there is only a joke, no humor.

Alaric nodded and said.

"Yes, those rabble are just such people. But I must say, the content inside still makes me shudder."

"Oh?" Jimenez looked at this Baron Viceroy with interest, "Where is it specifically reflected?"

Alaric coughed lightly.

"... I dare not let these words defile your eyes, please allow me to recount for you this poison flowing in the underground of the province."

Jimenez nodded.

"You read it."

Alaric was waiting for this sentence.

Opening the dirt-filled pages, he cleared his throat and, in this prayer room connected to the divine will, read those rebellious sentences.

"The Saintess says, the voice of the gods... does not need to pass through gilded pipes."

Alaric's voice echoed in the empty prayer room; the first sentence was as blasphemous as a guillotine falling on one's neck.

The theologians' expressions froze instantly, and several gasps were clearly audible. Including the old pedant who looked disdainful just now, his face turned pale, as if he had been angered into internal injury.

Alaric seemed not to notice the surging waves behind him, just looked at Chief Inquisitor Jimenez cautiously.

Seeing the Chief Inquisitor nod, he continued to recite the carefully selected passages.

"... It echoes directly in the hearts of every sufferer; everyone can hear His oracle, just because everyone is a child of God, and everyone can carry out God's will."

"This is not the most blasphemous; there is also this sentence... You should be children of the Holy Light, not slaves of the shepherds!"

The blasphemous remarks are not just this; he only picked the points that could most anger the priests.

Alaric knows very well that he is taking a risk; he has a 30% chance of not being able to walk out of this prayer room today, but also a 30% chance of making the Chief Inquisitor realize the real threat.

He believes that the Chief Inquisitor is not an incompetent coward who only knows how to vent his anger on the person speaking.

Dead silence shrouded the prayer room, with only the candlelight crackling.

This kind of naked denial!

Denying the sanctity of the church, denying the privileges of the clergy, and even comparing the supreme Holy See to shepherds enslaving believers!

In the "Holy Word Book," the meaning of shepherd is clearly guidance!

Those pampered theologians present felt unprecedented offense, as well as fear originating from the depths of their souls.

"Absurd! This is simply absurd to the extreme!"

An elderly theologian stood up abruptly, pointing his trembling finger at the book in Alaric's hand, his beard trembling with anger.

"If we follow the crazy words on this, then what is the thousand-year order of the St. Xisi Holy See?"

"If a thief also claims to have heard the voice of God to commit theft, a robber steals in the name of God, and a butcher kills in the name of God, then is our Holy Light still Holy Light? This is turning sacred faith into a weapon in the hands of thugs!"

There is nothing wrong with this statement; it wasn't the Inquisition that burned the most witches, and it wasn't the Inquisition that killed the most farmers.

After all, the Inquisition has a list of the people it kills; in other words, they can be counted.

But if it were the greenwood bandits, then there would really be no count for the killing. Whether to kill or not, whom to kill and whom not to kill, all highlight a free-will judgment, doing whatever they want.

Facing this thunderous reprimand, Alaric was not flustered at all, because the saliva did not fall on him.

He slammed the demon book in his hand shut, making a dull sound, then with an expression even more heartbroken than a priest, said sternly.

"You are absolutely right, my lord! That is exactly what I mean!"

He frowned and clenched his fists.

"What blasphemy! When I first read these words, the disgust I felt was stronger than smelling the stench of a rotting corpse. This is not just rebellion; it is simply shaking our foundations!"

The theologians who had prepared a bellyful of scriptures to refute the Viceroy were stunned by this move; the flames of anger lost their target for a while, and after a long time, they only managed to squeeze out a "Well said!"

Among these barbarians who haven't evolved well... there are also a few sensible people!

However, these theologians from the Shengcheng didn't know that the blasphemous manuscript in front of him was written by a smart person.

How could a village girl from the fields have the ability to write a book?

If she hadn't been forced into prostitution by a group of people under the banner of the Holy Light, and fled to a dead end with the last trace of piety toward chastity and the Holy Light, she wouldn't have met the "Son of God" on that snowy night, nor would she have inexplicably become a "Saintess."

She is essentially the same type of person as a certain groom.

But Alaric is different; he is a proper noble, and writing this kind of correct but useless nonsense is as simple as breathing for him.

As long as you grasp the central idea of "everyone is a priest" and expand on it, you can be as blasphemous as you want.

Chief Inquisitor Jimenez, who had been silent, finally made a move.

He slowly lifted his head; his originally calm face was now as gloomy as iron, and cold light flickered in those hawk-like sharp pupils.

This is no longer just a few bumpkins making trouble, but a toxin spreading like a plague, which is disintegrating the legitimacy of the Holy See's existence.

He even couldn't help but suspect that there was a Netherworld force behind this making trouble.

After all, Chaos produces plenty of madmen; even the treacherous fog that advocates conspiracy can rarely weave such a meticulous conspiracy.

Alaric keenly captured the killing intent in Jimenez's eyes.

He knew the timing was right.

He walked forward two steps and gently placed the dirty "New Testament" on the spotless walnut table in front of Jimenez.

"Chief Inquisitor."

Alaric's voice lowered, his tone carrying sincere frankness, "Our enemies are truly too shameless, and this is why the heavy cavalry of the Lionheart Knights are exhausted in the mud, but can never catch those rebels."

Jimenez lifted his eyelids and looked coldly at this Viceroy who is said to be known for his pragmatism: "What do you want to say, Baron Alaric."

"I want to say that our knights are still too merciful! The corrosion of the 'New Testament' is like a plague, and it is not our flesh that it erodes, but our souls! Swords and swords cannot heal the scars of the soul; only more thorough strong medicine can eradicate it!"

Alaric's index finger pressed on the manuscript, his eyes looking at the Chief Inquisitor as sincere as ever. However, beyond that heartfelt piety, there was also a hint of imperceptible coldness.

"Chief Inquisitor, this is the problem; I don't want to criticize my monarch, but the knights under his command are indeed too incompetent in this matter... they didn't even realize the severity of the problem."

This statement really hit Jimenez's heart.

His thoughts are actually even more radical than Alaric's; it's not just the knights who are incompetent, but also the King behind the knights.

It is Theoden Devalu who is too incompetent.

Of course, standing from King Theoden's own standpoint, using the power of the Inquisition to eliminate dissidents is understandable.

It's just that he probably forgot his identity.

The gods bestowed the crown upon him, not just as a reward for the Devalu family, but also with a sacred responsibility, or duty, within it.

They need to guard the holy land of the Old Continent for the St. Xisi Holy See, not letting Chaos and the Netherworld and other heretical faiths invade.

He went too far!

And the Lionheart Knights led by Haigmer are also the same; that "Radiant Knight" is even more stupid.

Their eyes have been fixed on the Campbell Duchy in the south from beginning to end, their heads full of geopolitical gains and losses and the King's territory, but they turn a blind eye to the maggots close at hand; that loyalty is already close to being muddled.

What's wrong with killing a few Leon people?

Shouldn't the heretics who sold their souls to the demons of Chaos die?

Looking at Baron Alaric, the only sober one, a long-lost smile finally appeared on Jimenez's rigid and stiff face.

"In this land shrouded in fog, it seems you are the only sober shepherd, Baron."

Jimenez's voice was very light, like a feather falling to the ground.

He stood up from the table, walked around the walnut table, came to Alaric who was holding his breath, and said in a voice close to a whisper.

"The Inquisition never refuses to listen to the voices of pious citizens. Since you have seen the crux of the problem, then... what good ideas do you have?"

The fish has taken the bait.

Suppressing the excitement and panic in his heart, Alaric, like a thief stealing in the name of God, swallowed a mouthful of saliva.

"In fact... I do have a good idea. In order to share the burden of the Inquisition, and also to restore the Twilight Saint Saint Xingsheng to normal as soon as possible, I and several nobles who are equally pious have established an organization called the Holy Light Council."

"Oh?" Jimenez smiled, "Tell me about it; what do you usually discuss?"

"Of course, it's discussing how to catch that hateful witch!"

Alaric's tone was humble and full of anger, as if that Kalian had hurt his family.

"It's not that I don't trust the King's army; those noble knights only know how to charge into battle, but our enemies won't stupidly line up in front of us; they will hide among us, hide in the slums where the knight lords can't enter... Only we, these people, know how to deal with those bumpkins."

Jimenez nodded.

"What you say makes sense; anything else?"

"Of course there is!"

Looking at the calm Chief Inquisitor, Alaric threw out the next sweet bait without stopping, his voice eager and sincere.

"The Holy Light Council is willing to become the most loyal hunting dog of the Inquisition! Our conscripts have measured this land with their feet; they know every sheep path and can ensure that those bandits from the depths of the Ten Thousand Swords Mountain can never gain a foothold on this land!"

"And, we promise that all heretical books and prohibited sacrificial vessels seized during the operation will be handed over to you here without reservation at the first opportunity!"

Jimenez's eyelid twitched.

If he only thought it made sense at first, then this sentence really moved him.

The Twilight Saint Saint Xingsheng is turning into a quagmire, and the mud that is past the calves is about to pour into his boots.

If this so-called Holy Light Council can solve the trouble in front of him, why wouldn't he be happy to do so?

This is not just for himself, but also for the interests of the Holy See.

The Inquisition will leave one day.

Instead of letting the King continue to hold the land he can't control at all in his hands, and waiting for them to leave and then cause greater chaos, why not let this local noble try?

"Then, what do you need?" the Chief Inquisitor said softly.

"Efficiency! My lord, what I need is absolute efficiency for the sake of the holy campaign!"

Alaric took out a paper roll that had been drafted long ago from his bosom, and the densely packed terms on it finally converged into a core demand—

"Special Administrative Power in Wartime"!

The Chief Inquisitor certainly wouldn't help him deprive the King of his title in the Twilight Saint Saint Xingsheng, but he could lend his own privileges to this Holy Light Council.

Wherever the Inquisition goes, the local lords must obey its orders!

Not just the army.

This also includes the right to govern!

It's just that the Inquisition generally doesn't directly interfere in local affairs; after all, they can't and have no obligation to bring the Empire's civil servants here to work.

Alaric packed all the powers he could think of, such as material requisition, personnel appointment and removal, checkpoint establishment, and a series of other privileges, into it.

Of course, he didn't reveal his ambition too nakedly, but used carefully woven excuses to cover it up.

"... The sacred Holy See focuses on helping God's children, and the King's army should be taken care of by the King's servants, such as us nobles."

"The Holy Light Council will be responsible for filling the army's stomachs and handling those trivial material allocations."

"Besides that, I also need a command sword, allowing me to bypass those slow-reacting royal bureaucrats. And, when necessary, I will borrow your name to issue direct orders to the Lionheart Knights stationed in the Twilight Saint Saint Xingsheng, so as not to let General Haigmer's passive attitude delay your great cause of purifying heresy."

The prayer room fell into a brief dead silence, followed by the sound of whispering.

The theologians exchanged glances and opinions with each other. Some felt that the Viceroy's words made sense, while others felt that this seemed a bit inappropriate.

Jimenez took the paper roll, his gaze sweeping over the terms that were enough to hollow out the entire province's administrative power, and a faint smile curled at the corner of his mouth.

Interesting.

The council borrows governing power from the Inquisition; it seems this Viceroy's ambition is not small. It's just, isn't this guy afraid of the King settling accounts afterwards?

He certainly saw Alaric's intention; this greedy Viceroy wants to use the Inquisition's knife to cut the King's flesh.