Chapter 193

Chapter 193

Despite being within the same city, the Church's attitude towards the middle-class residents in the city center differed greatly from those living in the outskirts. The underprivileged, with little education, were gullible and ignorant. The slums were always infested with rats and fleas, making them the worst-hit areas during the plague. Amidst the public's unrest, it was effortless to guide them with the promise of the healing blood bottles and gain their devotion.

However, the city center was a different story. Only the middle class could afford to live there. Although they hadn't received early news like the wealthy and left before the lockdown, their decent upbringing, high education, and extensive social networks made them the toughest nuts for the Church to crack.

If the Church's strategy in the slums involved intimidation, manipulation, and controlling resources, its approach to this group was gentle and deceitful. They assured these people that the plague outside would eventually be resolved, using occasional radio broadcasts and the priests' friendly visits and sermons to create an echo chamber, gradually easing their vigilance.

To the Church's surprise, the carefully constructed information bubble was unexpectedly shattered by mere yellow comics. One day, the usually docile middle class fiercely confronted their shepherds. Several executives or engineers presented photos and questioned the priests about the lack of improvement in the plague outside.

The priests tried to persuade, lie, and conceal the truth, but what alarmed them was that this wasn't an isolated incident; several neighborhoods had residents voicing their doubts.

"How can we know if it's true unless we see it for ourselves?"

"No, it's not safe out there. Rats and fleas are everywhere. Do you want to risk getting sick?"

"That's our own choice."

"No, have you considered the feelings of others? Each additional patient increases the danger here. Please, don't make things worse for us," the priest's expression was rigid, verging on moral manipulation. There was no way he would allow these people to actually venture outside.

Someone narrowed their eyes. "Fine, if you won't let us out, then fix the phone lines quickly. We need to contact the outside world."

"Exactly, I still have family in Orland, I need to assure them that I'm safe."

"I want to know the news from outside. Has the signal station been repaired yet?"

"We're busy saving lives every day. How do we have time to fix your phone lines and signal station?" The priest averted his gaze, but his lie was easily exposed. "That doesn't match what you've been saying. Didn't you claim that the plague is under control? How can it be so busy that you can't fix the signal station?"

"..."

Similar scenes unfolded in countless neighborhoods. Many who had seen the photos sought out the priests with questions. The priests stubbornly denied any wrongdoing and forbade anyone from leaving without permission. In some cases, they even resorted to having mercenaries intimidate the residents with guns, pointing them at those attempting to escape.

They rallied their followers, attempting to create divisions within the community. Those who had already become church devotees turned hostile towards those trying to leave. "With the plague so severe, have you thought about how we feel? What if you bring the virus back? The priest himself said it's dangerous outside, why won't you listen?"

In one neighborhood, an engineer, tired of arguing, built a homemade radio telegraph and placed it in the community. In full view of everyone, he prepared to send a message to the outside world.

"Bang!"

The church members arrived just in time, too late to disperse the crowd. They promptly demolished the radio device, only to lift their heads and meet the engineer's mocking expression and the peculiar glances from onlookers.

If blocking people from leaving the compound could be justified as a pandemic prevention measure, then cutting off communication signals, preventing them from connecting with the outside world, was inexplicable.

It seemed the engineer had anticipated this very reaction, deliberately revealing the machine in full view of everyone.

Facing the strangers' wary and hostile stares, the churchgoers and priests, accustomed to warmth and welcome wherever they went, felt their bodies stiffen. An urge to flee the scene overwhelmed them.

The church may imprison one's body, but neither wisdom nor nature can be caged.

...

Shortly after the release of the second volume, fires broke out across the city. The church dispatched many to maintain order, yet the news still reached the Pope's ears.

The Pope flew into a rage on the spot. However, he was concerned about his image and merely locked himself in the confessional, wildly smashing objects. The frightened faithful and nuns outside dared not enter, standing trembling in the cold.

"Damn it! Damn it! A pack of ungrateful wretches!"

As the last candelabrum crashed to the floor, the Pope panted heavily, his bloodshot eyes fixed on the cross on the ground. Suddenly, he fell to his knees once more and muttered, "No, we can't drag this on any longer. If those ungrateful citizens really manage to contact the outside world, I'll be..."

He knew better than anyone the crisis the Church was facing. Though the Messiah Sect seemed to have infiltrated every corner of the city and become the dominant force in the harbor, their power was still insignificant compared to that of the state.

Just as the officers had mentioned at the banquet, the government was putting pressure on them. They couldn't keep the journalists and the Doctors Without Borders out indefinitely. The more they concealed, the more the vultures would circle. Once the situation here was exposed...

The thought filled the Pope with such fear that he couldn't help but bite his nails. Both thumbs and index fingers on his hands were already gnawed uneven, revealing the immense stress he had been under.

The Church had dared to bribe military officials and government personnel to orchestrate this scenario, banking on the Son's blood as a cure for the plague. In his plan, the city would be sealed off, its residents gripped by fear of the plague. The Church would step in as saviors, providing the sacred medicine to heal the disease and thus grow in strength. Meanwhile, the officers and government officials could profit handsomely – it was a win-win.

But they had overlooked one crucial detail: their entire plan hinged on the Church's ability to cure the plague.

Now, as the moment of truth arrived, the Pope realized that the diluted sacred medicine was not a guaranteed cure. The Son's blood, on the other hand, was effective, but there was a limit to how much a child could give. Even if he were to donate all his blood, it wouldn't be enough to treat those already infected.

Realizing this, the Pope had hoped to combine the medication with the sacred medicine to treat the plague. However, he discovered that the hospital supplies had already been plundered by the military and government officials. The outbreak in the harbor had sparked panic across the nation, driving up the prices of the antiviral medications. Most of these precious drugs had been sold by greedy politicians across the country.

There was no medication left in the city's hospitals!

This realization struck the Pope with terror, especially when he saw the infection numbers climbing on the reports. Increasing the frequency of the Son's ceremonies did little good since Amos' 'invincibility' was not as powerful as the Mother's. Frequent use would push him into a coma. At this point, the Son's blood was the Pope's only hope to turn the tables.

The outbreak of rebellion within the city was part of the Pope's plan, but it had occurred far earlier than anticipated! The plague hadn't been suppressed at all. If news of the city's situation were to leak outside, everything would be ruined!

The Pope knew all too well the scoundrels who collaborated with him. Should this scandal come to light, they would distance themselves from him at lightning speed and pin the blame for the medicine and supplies on him.

Decades of their church's efforts here would be destroyed in an instant!

This was a matter of life and death for the Salvation Society!

With trembling fingers, the Pope picked up the cross from the ground. He couldn't resist praying in his heart: If you truly exist, please help him overcome this crisis...

"And what price can you afford to pay?"

The Pope jolted, lifting his head alertly to scan his surroundings. "Who... Who is speaking?!"

'Look up.'

The Pope lifted his head, and the sight that greeted him caused his pupils to contract abruptly.

It's not unusual that the doctrines of the Savoir Sect have biblical roots; in fact, many cults emerge as offshoots of mainstream religions. Their leaders claim to have the true interpretation of the Bible, often exaggerating or distorting certain passages to suit their extreme agenda.

For instance, the Order of the Savior worships not Jehovah but Jesus. They believe that Jesus suffered to atone for humanity's sins, making Him the true savior. That is why the Son and the Mother hold such exalted positions in this church.

Even the statues within the cathedral depict Jesus in His crucifixion.

As the Pope lifted his gaze, the statue of the suffering Son, which was originally lifeless stone, unexpectedly raised its head and revealed an eerie smile.

"So, what can you offer?"

The Pope was dumbfounded, even feeling dizzy. Although he was the Pope, he had never imagined the day when God would truly descend. He knew the world was complex, but his motive for expanding the church was simple: he desired more wealth, power, and status.

Thus, when the statue of the Son manifested, the Pope's instinctive reaction wasn't excitement but fear. His calves trembled as he stammered,

"I, I..."

His throat dried, and he missed the impatience on the Son's face. In the next moment, he felt the world spin around him. A burst of white light exploded before his eyes, and the faces of those he had once trampled upon, those who should have been dead, reappeared, cursing him to suffer in hell after death.

No, no, no! He couldn't fail!

"I..." The Pope's voice came out hoarse, "I can offer... everything."

As long as he can retain his position, as long as he can preserve everything as it is now.