Chapter 439

Anthony was the Archbishop of the Church of Light... now Pope; his understanding of the Church of Light surpassed everyone else's, even the theological scholars of the Prime Material Plane, for he had burned many of its sacred texts.

Many ancient symbols, seals, customs, and patterns passed down by the early Church had been lost in the Prime Material Plane.

Thus, Anthony discovered that in the alleys and streets of Degro City, unfamiliar symbols and seals occasionally appeared—unobtrusive, like childish doodles—but tracing them led him to uncover many hidden truths.

From these clues, Anthony learned they were seeking the recipe for "extra-filling" rapeseed cakes; he turned the tables, luring them out with the cakes and capturing them all.

Interrogation revealed they were hidden Church of Light followers who, while proselytizing among refugees, had tasted rapeseed cakes and immediately recognized their advantage.

If they could master its preparation, they could reduce the food's volume and weight to one-tenth of its original size, drastically easing transport and storage burdens.

One cart could previously carry food for a hundred people; now it could carry food for a thousand. Where once a thousand carts were needed, now only a hundred sufficed.

The food and fodder consumed along the way dropped by ninety percent—equivalent to a ninety percent reduction in transport costs—and the space required for storage shrank dramatically.

This was a groundbreaking technology.

The priests relayed the news to the Papacy; the Papacy swiftly issued orders demanding they secure the recipe at all costs. Instantly, every hidden Church of Light follower in Degro City sprang into action, rushing headlong into Anthony's net.

Interrogation revealed the Church of Light's current strength remained substantial, its followers numerous and extremely wealthy.

Crushed by undead forces, the Church of Light could no longer openly spread its faith or construct costly, showy monuments, so it focused entirely on accumulating wealth.

Hearing of their wealth and numbers, Anthony grew eager; he swiftly had them brought before him, hoping to harvest their faith energy—if possible, there was no need to kill them, for believers could provide vast amounts of faith energy.

Ang didn't know either, so he tried: they made a great clatter, then moved the blindfolded Church of Light followers to a new location.

…

Aguli was terrified, trembling as she walked forward, nearly collapsing from weak legs several times.

Her mind flooded with countless terrifying legends: zombies eating brains, undead devouring souls, skeletons stripping flesh, turning living people into bare bone frames.

To frighten followers, the Church had invented endless horrors, telling them since childhood.

Especially the dreadful scenes of those captured by undead—unable to die, unable to live, conscious as their flesh slowly rotted away until they saw maggots crawling over their own organs—causing many devout believers to prefer sacrificial death, burning their souls, rather than fall into undead hands.

Aguli wanted to sacrifice herself too, but she hadn't learned the soul-offering ritual; biting her tongue wouldn't kill her, and smashing her head against a wall was too hard—and might only enrage her captors into torturing her into that exact fate.

Better to obey, answer every question, and pray they'd be satisfied enough to grant her death.

She felt led into a sealed space, for echoes of footsteps echoed here—likely a large cavern or similar chamber.

Aguli felt her blindfold ripped off; a holy light flooded her eyes, blinding her momentarily, leaving only a small figure and six flapping wings visible.

After rubbing her eyes and adjusting to the brightness, Aguli saw clearly: the one who tore off her blindfold was a six-winged Archangel, holding a Staff of the Archangel, with three pairs of wings on her back.

"Ah?!" Six-winged Archangel? A six-winged Archangel! Aguli couldn't help crying out—but instantly realized her mistake, clamping both hands over her mouth.

Her companions mimicked her actions; all who had their blindfolds removed stared in shock at the six-winged Archangel before them.

What's happening? Why is there a six-winged Archangel? Have we reached the Divine Realm?

Aguli had never seen a six-winged Archangel; the name existed only in legend, no images ever circulated, for fear the undead would discover them.

Only from the tales of elder priests had Aguli learned that six-winged Archangels bore six wings—one pair of real feathers, the other four radiant light-wings.

Aguli studied the small angel's back: the true wings and light-wings matched the legends—but… but… why had the legendary six-winged Archangel suddenly appeared before them?

This question echoed through every Church of Light follower's mind—until a voice cut through it: "You fools! You nearly exposed me! Idiots, is this how you operate?"

Aguli and the others followed the voice—and what they saw made them all gasp: the man who had captured them was now scolding them.

But he wore the robes of an Archbishop—only far more ornate, solemn, detailed, and modern.

The Church of Light on the Prime Material Plane had developed for over a thousand years; its aesthetics and design were vastly more advanced than here.

Aguli and the others were stunned—having been captured, they'd expected death, yet now, removing their blindfolds, they faced a six-winged Archangel and a Church Archbishop—the very man who had captured them.

Anthony ignored their shock and continued scolding: "We spent immense effort infiltrating the Necropolis, planning to quietly rebuild the Church under their guise—and you suddenly appear, spreading my secret recipe everywhere? You nearly exposed me—I should burn you all on the pyre."

His tone carried no malice, only the concern of an elder.

Yet the meaning was clear: "infiltrated," "under their guise," "rebuild the Papacy"—he was plainly saying they were all Church members.

Aguli timidly asked: "You… you mean we nearly ruined your plan?"

"Hmph!" Anthony glared at her, grunted, took a deep breath, and assumed an impatient posture, turning to bow backward.

Ang, dressed as a hermit monk, stepped forward.

"H… Hermit Monk?" Aguli gasped. Hermit Monk, Archbishop, six-winged Archangel—what kind of lineup is this? Even the Shadow Pope she knew couldn't muster such a gathering!

"Insolent!" Anthony snapped: "This is the Divine Grace Monk, Lord An. Do not offend him."

Aguli immediately bowed her head.

Ang said nothing, walked straight to Aguli, and holy light bathed her body.

Beneath the holy light, her whip wounds instantly eased; the bloody marks on her bare arms vanished before her eyes—even her chronic abdominal pain disappeared.

Aguli stared in disbelief—what an incredible healing technique, what powerful holy light.

Seconds later, all her pain vanished; before she could recover, Ang moved to the next follower, repeating the process—drawing another round of gasps.

Among the dozen or so followers, Ang walked from one end to the other, healing every single wound with his own power—including three critically wounded, near death, and one severely burned.

By the fourth patient, everyone's expression changed; such immense holy power was beyond even the most powerful priests or bishops they'd ever seen.

By the tenth, they were numb; they began to believe Anthony's claim about the Divine Grace Monk, despite never having heard the name.

At the fifteenth, Ang suddenly frowned, stepped back two paces, studied the man intently, then said calmly: "You are guilty."

Three chains instantly shot from the ground, binding the follower.

"O… Original Sin Chains?!" Aguli cried out, her legs buckling; she fell to her knees, forehead pressed to the ground, praying: "The God said: be devout. Unintentional sins may be forgiven; original sin is born with us; devout faith can cleanse original sin…"

The others copied her, trembling as they knelt and prayed, terrified the Original Sin Chains would bind them.

They now believed without doubt: Ang and his companions were powerful Church figures who had infiltrated the Necropolis, truly representing divine will, judging sinners.

Anyone who doubted their identity must be a fraud—unless they could summon a six-winged Archangel, an Archbishop, and a Divine Grace Monk.

Ang sensed thick streams of soul-flame rising from them, flowing into his body—Aguli's was the thickest.

Under the Original Sin Chains, holy flames burned, instantly killing the sinner.

Aguli glanced quickly—and her faith hardened instantly.

She knew the sinner: the man had exploited a beautiful widow, forcing her to earn all his food and clothing, then sold her daughter. He was truly a deserving sinner.

The Divine Grace Monk did not punish capriciously; he didn't know the sinner, yet saw his sins at a glance. Oh heavens—so the elders' tales were true.

Aguli's heart was violently shaken.

Raised by the Church since childhood, raised on legends, she had faith—but how deep it ran was uncertain, for she had never witnessed any of those legends.

Growing up, she moved like a thief, terrified of undead discovery—where was the divine majesty?

Now, the sacred, powerful, divine things of legend stood before her—faith's final missing piece was finally in place.

Ang sensed this change, pointed at her, and said: "She is devout."

Anthony's eyes lit up: "Understood, my lord."

With the Scale God's own affirmation, Anthony's gaze toward Aguli softened considerably.

"Rise," Anthony said sternly. "You're lucky—the escort who brought you has been dealt with. From now on, you answer directly to Aguli. Any orders I give will be passed through her."

Aguli snapped her head up, stunned and incredulous.

Anthony walked to her and said: "Come with me."

…

Even after leaving the cave and returning to the secret base—a remote village—Aguli still felt as if in a dream.

After taking her away, Anthony tested her strength, then disdainfully gave her a storage ring, a magic ring, and a cloak that looked utterly ordinary.

But as soon as Aguli put it on, she sensed something strange: the cloak concealed her holy power.

Her holy power had always been weak, negligible—but Anthony had given her half a Holy Spirit Heart.

Even though it was the lowest-tier, and only half, she now felt her holy power constantly on the verge of spilling out.

Yet all fluctuations were masked by the cloak—even her companions noticed nothing.

That was one thing—but the storage ring truly stunned Aguli; it was worth more than all the land near her native village. Anthony had just handed it to her casually.

Oh heavens—she was just an ordinary follower, not even a priest. Was it right to give her these things?

"Appropriate," Anthony said. "These aren't precious. What's precious is this." He pointed to her forehead. "Devout faith is the source of these things—and the most powerful thing you possess."

"My faith? The most powerful thing?" Aguli looked bewildered.

"Where did you learn your scripture?" Anthony scolded, exasperated. "Our power comes from the God's gift. Remember Lord An? In crisis, speak his name—he will send divine favor upon you. That is your greatest strength."

"The more steadfast your belief in Lord An, the more he will protect you. Do you understand?"

Steadfast faith—the greatest power… steadfast faith—the greatest power… Aguli murmured the words all the way back to the village.

As soon as she returned home, before she could speak to her family, her fat, greedy stepmother spotted the ring on her hand and advanced with gleaming eyes.

She reached out to snatch the ring, scolding: "You're back? You worthless waste—where did you steal this ring? Let me see it."

Aguli pulled her hand back: "It's not stolen. Don't touch."

One ring was a magic ring; according to Anthony, it contained a phoenix. With enough flame to fuel it, it could burn an entire city to ash.

And what did this woman want? "Look"? Once in her hands, it'd never return.

The fat stepmother flew into rage, raising her hand: "You worthless brat, how dare you speak to me like that? I'll—"

Aguli instinctively flinched—but then she remembered: she was now a Saint, possessing the greatest power—steadfast faith.

She lifted her skirt and kicked out—right into the woman's belly of fat, sending her sprawling.

"You… you… you hit me? Aaah—! Aaah—!" The fat stepmother pointed at Aguli, shrieking, scrambling to rise, ready to tear out her mouth.

Too late—five or six followers who had returned with Aguli now stood between her and the woman.

Aguli mimicked Anthony's tone, speaking calmly: "Insulting a Saint—strike the mouth."