Chapter 347: Invitation

The Sun-Worshipping Church may be the capital of this era, even more powerful, for they possess not only armed forces but a true god.

No one knows who made this decision, but the God of Gold Church has arrived, sensing opportunity and visibly transforming everything around them.

Yet even the kingdom and its princess cannot refuse.

With capital entering, manpower and transcendent combat power have joined in, activating markets, the adventuring industry, and even the entire city and kingdom’s social operations.

This vitality in social and economic activity is the most precious.

A flood of foreign goods and commerce has poured in, fueling competition and forcing the lofty godly churches to no longer ignore it. Competition has arrived—doing nothing is a crime; waiting means being eliminated and devoured by the market.

Even the bishops of the benevolent churches, though labeled “exiled misfits,” face professional pressure.

You may choose not to expand or achieve results, but if you lose your entire original faith territory, and every inch of land is seized, exile can instantly become punishment—or execution.

Trust in the greed and fairness of the gods—when their core interests are damaged, gods have never been human in their ruthlessness.

“Predictably, the competition for faith will be fierce. This may not be good for us, but it seems good for the kingdom.”

Beneath the Hall of Heroic Souls, Princess Dainya, surrounded by spreading black mist, began recruiting companions.

Li En did not stop her; allowing her to misuse public authority was itself a form of support.

Below, the “Inheritors” either whispered among themselves or wore indifferent expressions.

Most had no intention of joining; they viewed the kingdom’s plight as unrelated to themselves. To them, inheritance was real, development was real—but had little to do with this tiny kingdom. Even if your kingdom collapsed in two years, inheritance would continue, development would continue.

Dainya’s recruitment was an opportunity and a challenge for the kingdom’s Inheritors; for citizens of other nations, it was merely an invitation, a choice—and without sufficient leverage or temptation, few would abandon their homes to embark on such a journey.

Dainya was only doing what she could; only a large pool could produce true dragons. The small fish raised by these people and resources could never withstand a great storm.

This was also the fundamental reason she and the kingdom could not possibly refuse the Sun-Worshippers: the influx of “capital” had indeed greatly activated local exploration, even though everyone knew it was a slow-acting poison. But if the kingdom might be gone in two years, worrying too much was meaningless.

“If possible, I hope your new church can impose some restraint on the Sun-Worshippers.”

“You overestimate us.”

Since this was a public setting, Li En still used honorifics, but the content was anything but courteous.

What tier was the Sun-Worshipping Church? What tier was his own? Li En had just asked a Sun-Worshipping priest: they had four divine spells guaranteed at First Ring, seven to ten at Second Ring (total). His own side? All First Ring, one spell each—truly “guaranteed draw.”

The gap in divine power was too vast. Even if the God of Drama and Pleasure took no tithe from faith and even gave away divine power, the strength granted to earthly priests was still far too little.

Moreover, “commerce” and “travel” were also the Sun-Worshippers’ domains—meaning the pursuit of wealth itself was fulfilling their doctrine, making them even stronger.

“Do what we can,” Dainya rubbed her temples, also feeling a headache.

She still received constant intelligence: it wasn’t just the Sun-Worshippers who had set their sights on Huicheng; others—hidden demonic deities, orthodox gods, transnational organizations—each were ticking time bombs.

The God of Drama and Pleasure still quietly played his instrument, seemingly utterly unconcerned with the Inheritors below. Yet the priests and Inheritors who had received the legacy felt nothing amiss.

It seemed gods were meant to be this way—aloof, unreachable.

Devout priests longed for divine guidance, while seasoned, ambitious priests hoped the god would do nothing at all—so they could interpret the god’s will and goals themselves.