https://novelcool.info/chapter/Chapter-241-Lanchi-is-Just-a-Bit-Too-Ambitious/12584284/
https://novelcool.info/chapter/Chapter-243-Lanchi-is-Undoubtedly-at-Least-a-Seventh-Ranked-Stronghold/12584293/
Chapter 242: Cardinal Lanchi's Authority
Chapter 242: Cardinal Lanchi's Authority
Minutes later.
The battle ended as swiftly as a storm, fierce and brief.
The crew and escorts on the merchant ship were quickly overwhelmed and bound, their weapons scattered across the deck, leaving them with only futile fists.
Their eyes were filled with fear and distress, as if they couldn't comprehend why they had been attacked by the Reborn cultists and were reluctant to guess their fate.
Among those on the merchant ship, only Viscount Francis stood unbound, a subtle tension making his cheeks pale, his usually dignified appearance now weathered.
But he smiled with helpless resignation.
Viscount Francis probably guessed what was happening.
It must be that the nobles in the city could no longer contain their desire to replace him, and now they had a ridiculous opportunity to get rid of him with the help of the Reborn Church.
Although he burned with anger, Viscount Francis was also clear-headed about the reality. In these turbulent times, one wrong step could lead to being crushed by the wheels of fate.
This group of silver-robed Reborn cultists had displayed overwhelming power. From their brief clash, Viscount Francis had clearly recognized the absolute gap in combat strength between them.
One could even say that if the cultists wished, he and his crew would already be dead.
As this oppressive and anxious atmosphere permeated every corner of the deck, the leading silver-armored priest of the Reborn cultists approached.
This silver-armored priest was so powerful that no one in their entire city could match him.
In the imperial capital, fifth-rank cultivators might not be uncommon, and some exceptionally talented students of the Imperial Royal Academy even achieved fifth-rank strength at a young age.
But in their remote city-state, even a third-rank cultivator would be considered a powerful mercenary or adventurer.
And Viscount Francis' excellent secretary and bodyguard was a fourth-rank expert.
Yet, against this silver-armored priest, they were crushed in just a couple of moves, like a child unable to fight back against an adult.
The Reborn cultists were a force far beyond the borderlanders' league.
No one could stand against the infamous might of the Baptist branch of the cult.
"Let's get straight to the point," Viscount Francis said, standing there expressionlessly as smoke curled from the corner of his mouth.
He took a deep breath, watched by several cultists, and then flicked his cigarette butt into the sea.
He tried to appear calm.
After all, since they hadn't killed him directly, there might still be room for negotiation.
Negotiating or compromising with the Reborn cultists was humiliating, but if it could save the innocent people on board and his daughter back in the town, he had no choice but to set his dignity aside.
A silver-armored priest walked towards him, exuding a far more powerful aura of oppression than the others.
With a mere thought, he could easily take the life of anyone on board.
"Viscount Francis," the silver-armored priest said with a smile, his arms crossed over his chest.
"What is your attitude towards our Reborn Church?"
"Based on my understanding, I want nothing to do with you," Viscount Francis replied.
The silver-armored priest smiled, seemingly unsurprised by Viscount Francis' candid response.
This was also why he preferred this frank Viscount to that scheming fat pig.
If he had to choose a partner, the silver-armored priest would rather work with Viscount Francis than the treacherous advisor who might stab him in the back at any moment.
After all, the Baptist branch of the Reborn Church had been instructed to combine wisdom and strength to establish absolute hegemony in various cities, to make the people believe and accept their doctrine, but not to break the laws of the Empire and bring trouble upon themselves.
Although, in their opinion, breaking the law was only wrong if one got caught.
Still, he wanted to avoid any risky business.
"We have been actively changing with the times, and not harming anyone is a sincere gesture of goodwill on my part," the silver-armored priest said, taking out a ring.
"But the core doctrine of our Baptist Church is the belief that the strong rule over the weak. As you cannot resist us right now, I hope that you will willingly cooperate with us."
"Is that so... It figures that it would be something you lot would do."
Viscount Francis scoffed, finding the entire situation laughable.
He recognized the ring as a magical item similar to the ones used by slave traders to bind low-ranking slaves to their will.
Despite their lofty words, their actions remained despicable and underhanded.
"I believe the Viscount has already made his decision."
The silver-armored priest stared directly at Viscount Francis as he spoke.
Although the contract ritual was a bit troublesome, it would ensure their complete control over Viscount Francis, bringing them one step closer to achieving their missionary goals.
Just then, a tiny insect flew past, hovering behind the silver-armored priest.
"Come to me."
The cold and concise command echoed in the priest's ear, causing him to become suddenly alert.
"End of the second-floor corridor."
Another voice, calm and detached.
But when the silver-armored priest turned around, he could neither see nor hear anyone nearby.
A faint blue glow, accompanied by a trace of magic, had just vanished before his eyes.
He furrowed his brows, certain that no one had approached him and that the voice had originated from somewhere behind him.
This targeted auditory magic, though not necessarily high-ranking, struck him as incredibly peculiar. To think that there was a magician on board capable of such trickery.
"Keep an eye on Viscount Francis for now."
A cold smile tugged at the corner of the silver-armored priest's mouth. He intended to find out who was daring enough to play these games.
Moreover, he needed to personally address this unknown variable that had eluded even his own senses.
On the deck of the ship, the silver-armored priest descended the stairs, his armor glinting coldly in the sunlight, reflecting the vibrant blue of the surrounding ocean waves.
His gait was steady, yet each step exuded an intangible air of intimidation.
As he entered the ship's cabin and scanned the area, he was clearly searching for something.
Soon enough, he reached the end of the second-floor corridor. His gaze fixed on the last door, he paused momentarily, sensing no powerful magical fluctuations or signs of traps within. With a soft sound, he twisted the door lock and pushed it open.
The room was simply furnished yet exuded an air of elegance.
A single bed, a small table, and a bookshelf filled with books and documents adorned the space.
Though sparsely occupied, the room was permeated with a unique atmosphere—a confluence of knowledge, power, and faith.
On the bed sat a young man with light brown hair that fell gently over his forehead, partially obscuring his eyes. Yet, this did nothing to diminish his air of calm and ease.
He held a copy of the Imperial Code, seemingly searching for answers within its pages, each turn of the leaf adding another layer to his contemplations.
Unfazed by the priest's intrusion, he showed no concern, as if he hadn't sensed any danger at all, or perhaps he simply didn't perceive it as a threat.
"Was it you who summoned me here?"
The silver-armored priest stared at the young man, his question filled with intensity.
The young man's bearing was remarkable, yet the priest couldn't discern any aura of strength emanating from him.
He would not tolerate being toyed with by a weakling, and if this were a true powerhouse, he would humbly seek guidance.
Proving one's strength was an integral step in the propagation of their doctrine.
"... "
The young man with brown hair closed the codex in his hands and slowly raised his head.
Though he remained silent, the air seemed to freeze around him. His silence wasn't born of powerlessness or disinterest but carried an unspoken power that made those present sense his unwavering determination and confidence.
There was no visible anger or displeasure in his emerald eyes, only an unfathomable, regal dignity that made the silver-armored priest feel inexplicably uneasy and uncertain.
Finally, after a moment of silence, the young man spoke.
"Which unit are you from? Who is your superior?"
Cardinal Lanchi's tone was flat and devoid of emotion as he asked his questions.
He still had to return to tutoring the Viscount's daughter.
How annoying that a subordinate unit had chosen to cause trouble along the way.
(End of Chapter)
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