Chapter 159: Church Schism

The cloaked man also blinked in surprise, instinctively replying: "I've trained, I've trained, even the Church version and the adventurer version."

Nagelis was speechless—this was clearly a posture ready to surrender at any moment.

Lightning leaned his head over: "Recite the Church version once—I don't believe your words can fool those rigid fools in the Church."

The cloaked man hesitated, saw that Nagelis made no move to stop Lightning, so he stood up, dropped to his knees with a thud, and shouted: "May holy light protect me! I'm buying indulgences—three of them!" As he spoke, he raised his hand high, palm up, holding a magic crystal card.

Nagelis picked it up curiously and examined it: "This is an anonymous magic crystal card from the Mages' Guild—one ten thousand magic crystals."

"Yes, yes, yes! The most reputable Mages' Guild, as trustworthy as the Gnome Merchants' Guild—this is a gift for your lordship." The cloaked man spoke respectfully.

"That doesn't make sense—the Church's indulgences are two thousand magic crystals each. You've got enough here for five." Nagelis said.

The cloaked man couldn't help complaining: "That's what they charge in Church territories. In these borderlands, prices have long gone up—four thousand each, three for ten thousand."

"Tsk tsk tsk—four thousand magic crystals to redeem the sins of a heretic like you? How far has the Church of Light sunk?" Nagelis marveled.

"That's not fair—if that's not enough, I can perform a scene of a heretic renouncing his faith and embracing the Light—like cursing: Hemelthos is—pff—."

Nagelis was convinced. Honestly, the Church of Light really did buy this act: heretics renouncing their faith, cursing dark gods, and donating their wealth to atone for sin.

Such a story could become an epic sung across the land.

"If the Church of Light is this easy to fool, who are you most afraid of?" Nagelis asked curiously.

"Of course, nobles—lords and ladies. Just now, a crazy female mage—I tried reasoning with her for ages, but she still insisted on exterminating me. I shut the stone door, yet she teleported right in—terrified me to death. Without a coordinate beacon, she still teleported precisely inside. That kind of power is terrifying—is there anywhere in the world that can stop her?"

"And she crashed straight into the insect nest—shook the queen and all the insects to death. I thought I was done for, but she screamed at the sight of the insect corpses and ran off herself."

Nagelis mentally pictured the scene and suddenly understood why the female mage had screamed and fled without even grabbing her clothes. Any person afraid of insects, upon colliding with a pile of them—alive or dead—would surely flee in terror.

"Secondly, undead. Undead don't care about life, but they crave souls." The cloaked man added.

Nagelis's face broke into a smile—how convenient! Most of his own group were undead. He was just about to say something when Ang suddenly pointed at the ground nearby and yelled, "Aoh!"

The little zombie lunged forward, its hoe flashing as it hammered the ground with a clanging sound.

Seeing this, the cloaked man shot to his feet. Soon, a plump insect was dug out, stuck in a crack due to its size.

Seeing the insect, Nagelis suddenly understood: "You've been chatting with us this long just to stall? What is this? Your soul-receptacle? Why's it stuck?"

The cloaked man, who had been calm and cooperative until now, screamed in despair: "Damn life acceleration! My bugs grew too fast, got stuck in the crack!"

Screaming, he rushed forward—just two steps, a shadow blade slashed from the darkness, severing his head.

Luo Ge perfectly embodied what a true Black Knight is—everyone ignores him, but when needed, he's always there.

Nagelis sighed: "I was almost convinced—I was ready to spare your life and let you raise bugs for us, just surrender your soul. But you lied to us."

From the headless body, the cloaked man sent out urgent thoughts: "Surrender! I'll surrender my soul! Spare my life!"

As soon as he finished speaking, Ang's scythe slashed down, pulling out his soul.

With practiced soul-searching, Ang tilted his head and said: "They're going to eat the World Tree."

Whether it was the two from John's village or the one they met upon entering, Ang had found no useful information in their souls—until this cloaked man, who finally provided key details.

"So these cloaked men plan to roam around, causing chaos, with the ultimate goal being the World Tree?" Nagelis asked.

"Yes." Ang nodded.

"Meaning, the elves' massive giveaway of diseased branches has let these bug handlers realize: gnawing the World Tree greatly extends insect lifespan and improves their teeth. They want to breed new insects with ultra-long lifespans, capable of chewing through anything?"

Ang nodded: "They've infiltrated human lands, preparing to enter the elf forests."

Nagelis sighed helplessly: "Elves, elves—you're in deep trouble now."

These insects aren't individually strong—if Ang and the little zombie stood still, their tough hide and bone armor would be unchewable. But if even one gets into the elf forest, the elves' troubles will be immense.

"Tell Lisha to notify the elves, and Anthony to notify the humans—everyone must raise their vigilance. If an outbreak happens in one place, no matter how well other areas are controlled, it won't matter." Nagelis said.

Nagelis really didn't want this news to spread—because the first place the bugs were discovered was the Falling Dragon Lake. If the news spread, all eyes across the plane would turn to the Falling Dragon Lake, exposing all of Ang's activities there.

Whoever learns Ang has cultivated a magic rice that grows in saltwater will immediately want to seize it—especially coastal nations or those with vast saline lands. This is a weapon capable of rewriting the balance of power across the continent—a hundred times more effective than any conventional weapon.

He'd originally planned to handle it alone, but now there was no time. He couldn't hide this news out of caution—humans and elves might suffer catastrophic losses.

Using soul-link to notify Lisha and Anthony to inform the elves and humans, Ang then ignored it, happily gathering the insect corpses and burning them to ash.

Behind the stone door was a vast underground space—tens of thousands of square feet—divided into many sealed small chambers, each housing different kinds of insects, like a breeding and cultivation base.

In the largest chamber stood a statue, its pedestal smashed, surrounded by insect corpses—likely the nest the female mage had crashed into.

After searching, besides insect corpses, not even a single wraith was found. The only talking being was the dead cloaked man.

Nagelis circled the area, unable to help asking: "Wait—just this? Where's Hemelthos?"

They'd come to kill Hemelthos. Ang had brought the Titan Farmer along, all stuffed inside the Palace of Rest. Even the Guardian Priest Teshi was fully charged, ready to be dragged out for battle—was this all?

At that moment, Ang and the little angel zombie were gathered before the statue, staring up at it. Hearing Nagelis's question, Ang pointed.

"Hemelthos is inside the statue?" Nagelis looked up, puzzled.

The moment its eyes met the statue's eyes, its entire soul froze—no thought could form.

A powerful, overwhelming will was pouring through the statue's eyes into its soul—divine authority like winter's icy wind, freezing the soul solid.

A god's gaze can truly stare a weak life to death.

Nagelis wasn't weak, so it still had the capacity to tell Ang: "Smash it!"

"Oh." Ang replied. The little angel beside him immediately flapped its wings excitedly, but Ang grabbed it—making it pout angrily.

Since entering the underground, the little angel hadn't lifted a finger. It had been holding back—while the little zombie was digging up insect corpses, it got nothing.

Ang shook his head, then raised his right hand—the Hand of Rock. The spectral shadow of Rock the Unyielding appeared before Ang, reached out, and gripped his hand—the two figures merged—Ultimate Transformation.

"No need! Smash a statue and you use this? Too wasteful." Nagelis muttered.

But Ang ignored it. Transformed into Rock the Unyielding, he crouched and shrieked, unleashing a powerful soul impact against the statue.

The will within the statue emitted a wave of terror—a faint, distant scream.

Boom! Boom boom boom! Boom boom! From crown to toe, the statue exploded like a string of magic bombs, crumbling into dust, scattering everywhere.

Nagelis still stood with its mouth slightly open, muttering: "Holy shit—you soul-impacted a god?"

Not only did it soul-impact a god, but the god seemed injured. Good heavens—is this a divine war?

The statue turned to dust, the projecting will vanished completely. Nagelis couldn't confirm whether the will had been injured, or how badly—it could only be shoved aside.

From some distant darkness, a hoarse voice screamed in pain: "Ancient Nest—terrible—stay away!"

Shhh shhh shhh—the hoarse voice's words spread far and wide through a rustling vibration.

After clearing all insect corpses and burning them, Ang gathered about five tons of insect ash—ten times more than last time. Last time, the ash filled barely a cubic meter and weighed less than two hundred jin.

"Enemy nests really are profitable. This much should last you a long time. Want to sell some to the elves?" Nagelis asked.

This insect ash might not be the "Yan" the cloaked man mentioned, but when mixed into soil, it has some healing effect on the gray blotches on the World Tree—the elves would gladly buy this fertilizer.

Ang firmly shook his head—he didn't even understand the full effects of this insect ash yet, so he wouldn't sell it to the elves.

"Fine, fine—sell more later." Nagelis sighed.

If possible, it still wanted to save the World Tree. Even if the thing claimed it had nine thousand years left, living nine thousand healthy years was nothing like living nine thousand years wracked with disease.

Leaving the insect nest, along the way, Ang held the insect ash and sprinkled it everywhere—on moss, he sprinkled; on fungi, he sprinkled; on puddles, he sprinkled—repeating the same energy he'd shown when he first got the Essence of Life.

But he only sprinkled—he didn't use his aura to accelerate growth. No immediate effect would appear—it was pure waste.

Meanwhile, thousands of miles away, Anthony held a thick glass dome covering several beetles, gathering all his subordinates, and solemnly announced:

"The Hemelthos Bug Plague has returned. Eastern Diocese, immediately enter wartime control. Everyone must obey wartime control orders and follow the commands of the Grand Archbishopric. Any disobedience will be arrested on the spot!"

Upon hearing "Hemelthos Bug Plague," everyone froze, instinctively glancing at the glass dome in Anthony's hand.

The Hemelthos Bug Plague was a famously dreaded disaster—it was linked to famine. Every time it erupted, the next year brought massive famine, killing millions.

This was a disaster that could not be ignored.

But when "wartime control" came from Anthony's mouth, everyone's expressions subtly shifted—they couldn't tell if the plague had truly erupted, or if Anthony was using the plague as an excuse to tighten control.

For some time now, the Church of Light had practically split. Ever since Anthony claimed he'd been assassinated, yet received divine favor, rejuvenated by over a decade, and returned to the mortal world, the Church's division began.

The Eastern Diocese now operated independently of the Church's central authority, refusing to obey any orders from the central hierarchy.

This was unthinkable—a mere Cardinal should never be able to split the Church. No one would follow him.

But reality was completely opposite—most Eastern Diocese families, factions, and alliances had unhesitatingly obeyed Anthony's commands.

Even those who initially resisted changed their minds when Anthony personally visited and told them: "Your grandfather, great-grandfather, ancestors—all left wills, right? Bring them out. The time has come."

Who could have imagined that a man named Piero had been laying plans since a thousand years ago?

During his endless cycles of rebirth, each generation he left behind loyal subordinates—some had fallen into ruin, but many had grown into powerful, deeply rooted clans. Their descendants never forgot: when someone bearing the token and speaking the password came and said "the time has come," they must obey.

Of course, some refused—or weren't part of Anthony's network. For them, excuses were needed for cleanup—like "disobeying wartime control."

Soon, a shocking message spread across the entire continent: the Eastern Diocese of the Church of Light has declared independence, inheriting the belief of Light, now renamed the Holy Church.