Chapter 26

Chapter 26

Indeed, Ning Chan already had the top leadership of Lis Church under his control, keeping them in constant pain. Yet he hadn’t forgotten that others were involved too.

Ning Chan had checked on Dongmi and the others. Had they not met him, given their physical condition at the time, they probably wouldn’t have survived to adulthood.

Ning Chan refused to accept this.

They were all poor kids. Why should they die just as life was getting better? It wasn’t fair.

The ones who deserved death weren't them, but those filthy, vile monsters.

So, Ning Chan specially prepared a batch of medicine tailored to their conditions. Every time he met with them, he also transferred Wood-element energy to heal their injuries.

Once their internal injuries had mostly healed, he taught them how to make healing tonics to nourish themselves further.

As for the expenses of these remedies, the church could easily afford it.

Not to mention the church’s expanding business ventures, even just the assets surrendered by the Archbishops and bishops would be enough to sustain them for years without working.

Now, the children’s health was gradually improving, but that didn’t mean their past suffering could be erased.

It was witnessing that appalling scene back then that had changed Ning Chan’s mind. So this time, he wanted to see if there was a chance to take care of those people discreetly as well.

Some of those Ning Chan had his eye on stood before an exquisite mural and belched loudly, drawing disdainful glances from the surrounding nobles.

How dare they act so disrespectfully before the holy sanctuary? Just a lowly baron, unafraid of incurring divine wrath.

The scrutinized baron, McCann, glanced around, intending to assert his status, only to realize the others nearby outranked him.

McCann shrunk like a scrawny hen cowed by a lion, hanging his head and slinking away.

Watching this, Darren snorted at McCann’s bloated hog of a man. Having such a man around was truly an eyesore.

Better to focus on the sanctuary and clear his sight.

The area around the sanctuary was shaded by lush trees, with stone benches placed at intervals. Many sat there—some seeking medical aid, others trading grain for seed.

They occasionally glanced up at the large display board by one of the church’s windows. Whenever the digits changed, they nervously checked their own tokens, comparing the numbers to see if theirs was coming up.

As the numbers neared alignment, they gathered their belongings and lined up by the entrance in advance.

The sanctuary’s walls were white, with some turrets painted sky blue, adorned with drifting clouds and plump white pigeons carrying olive branches toward the heavens.

At the far left of the sanctuary wall, a careful observer could spot a glimpse of a resplendent celestial palace hidden among the clouds. By its gates, a figure with snow-white hair bowed their head, as if gazing at something below.

Beneath the clouds lay a battlefield strewn with corpses. A soldier leaned on a banner pole beside the carnage, one leg clearly missing, their eyes vacant as if lost.

Not far from the battlefield, an emaciated woman, just skin and bones, cradled an infant in one arm while pressing a bleeding finger to the child’s lips. Bright red blood smeared the infant’s lips, yet she seemed oblivious, her gaze fixed on the distance as if waiting for someone’s return.

A closer look revealed a starved rat that had scurried from her hut, equally starved.

The entire mural exuded an oppressive, despairing atmosphere, the mingling blacks and reds evoking a hell on earth.

The second mural depicted a hand tilting slightly, its flowing sleeve reminiscent of the divine figure from the first.

Whatever was being poured, golden light shimmered within the churning clouds as a beam descended upon the earth—its focal point precisely the sanctuary of Lis Church.

The third mural showed an ink-black night, the outlines of nearby structures faintly visible under the erratic arcs of lightning resembling frenzied serpents. Those familiar with the sanctuary would recognize it as the overgrown garden leading to the underground altar.

The source of those arcs was a golden-glowing seed.

The wildly growing plants resembled feral demonic plants, twisting into eerie shapes, with spectral visages seemingly materializing from the two towering trees.

The fourth image depicted blue flames engulfing those plants. The flames licked inward defiantly, showing no intent to damage the surrounding structures.

The golden seed at the center appeared even more radiant amidst these flames.

In the fifth image, the colossal trees in the garden had vanished. Only small plants, carefully cultivated, remained—some adorned with delicate pink or yellow blossoms swaying gently in the breeze.

At the garden's center stood a massive stone stele, bathed in sunlight, with golden characters appearing line by line.

The sixth image showed a child in a holy child's white robe, holding a quill and parchment, standing before the stele, accompanied by a cardinal in red robes.

Both wore hoods, leaving their appearances to the imagination.

The seventh image featured someone pouring something into a stone mortar while referencing the parchment. Outside the church, a believer arrived, cradling a child.

The swaddling cloth's pattern identified them as the woman and child from the first image.

The woman looked anxious, her legs slightly bent as if ready to kneel at any moment.

Yet, two figures in holy child's robes stepped forward—one supporting her, the other offering a wooden box labeled "fever reducer."

The eighth image showed a slightly plumper woman sitting in a courtyard, arms open, ready to embrace a toddler toddling with arms outstretched toward her.

In the corner, the familiar patched swaddling cloth fluttered in the wind.

Neat rows of sprouts filled the courtyard, complementing the joyful scene.

A man with a wooden pestle fixed to his leg scattered something into the field while glancing back at the playful mother and child.

A burlap sack hung at his waist, faintly bearing the word "fertilizer."

In the ninth image, the child had grown several years older, learning numbers on the courtyard wall. A plump rat behind him munched on a biscuit atop a small table.

An ornate clay vase held clusters of wheat, their heavy heads bowing low, showcasing their exceptional quality.

Two new trees bore amber fruits, while a plumed bird pecked at one, dripping honey-like juice.

Lush vegetables filled the yard; beyond, golden wheat fields swayed, with two figures glimpsed harvesting.

The tenth image depicted a bright, spacious home where a whole household feasted at a round table.

The once-anguished couple, now grandparents, beamed with joy at the head of the table.

The spread of colorful dishes sparked endless curiosity about their flavors.

Darren circled most of the sanctuary, studying each image intently as others buzzed about their discoveries.

He huffed, feeling stuck in limbo—Ning Chan would likely compare it to having a show spoiled.

Bonnie wasn't bothered; he craved every detail upfront.

These murals explained the Reiss Church's rapid transformation: a true god intervened.

Could he conclude they possessed a Holy Tablet inscribed with divine laws—capable of healing and bumper crops?

If so, wouldn't it invite thieves?

Unable to suppress his curiosity, Bonnie lowered his head to ask little Nuosa, though he was merely teasing the child and didn’t actually expect an answer.

To his surprise, little Nuosa really knew. He flashed Bonnie a gap-toothed grin and shook his head. "No way! The Holy Tablet has its own will. It often vanishes at night. And if someone with evil intentions tries to take it out of Lis Church, not only will it lose its divine power, but it’ll also explode!"

As if imagining the scene, Nuosa covered his mouth and giggled like a teakettle.

Bonnie and Darren exchanged shocked glances. "Ex—explode? Has that actually happened before? What’s the Holy Tablet’s condition now?"

Nuosa lowered his hands and nodded emphatically. "Yep! Just a few days ago, a viscount tried to take the Holy Tablet away and ordered slaves to tie it onto a cart.

But as soon as the tablet was carried out of the sanctuary, the words on it vanished. The viscount panicked and touched the tablet to check what was wrong—then boom! It exploded, and he was blown to bits right there.

The slaves who had bound the tablet were terrified and just kept bowing and scraping.

No mortal dares mess with the gods!

Honestly, that scene scared everyone. What if the Holy Tablet was destroyed and our lives went back to being awful? Thankfully, it returned to the sanctuary."

"Returned to the Church? How? Did the tablet piece itself back together and crawl home?" Darren felt a twinge of relief hearing that the victim was a viscount—at least he hadn’t entertained such thoughts, or he might have been next.

"Nope. The Holy Tablet wouldn’t reclaim anything tainted by a sinner’s blood. All I know is that it suddenly reappeared in the Sacred Plant Garden, with the words ‘Seven-Day Silence’ written on it.

Then, from that day until seven days later, no words or images appeared on the tablet.

So after this incident, who would dare steal it? You’d have to be suicidal!" Nuosa shook his head as if anyone who tried again would be a fool.

Listening to Nuosa’s explanation, Bonnie nodded in agreement. God’s tricks and plans were beyond mortal comprehension.

"Then do we have a chance to see the Holy Tablet this time?" Darren was deeply intrigued by this magic slab and wanted to witness its inscriptions firsthand.

Nuosa pointed at the little tickets in their hands. "Yes. Since you’re here for the Charity Sale, you can go pay respects to the Holy Tablet directly."

Watching the group enter the sanctuary, Ning Chan yawned and closed his eyes for a brief rest.

The Holy Tablet was just one of his methods to conceal his identity. First, he carved a wooden mold for the tablet, then poured mixed cement into it.

When the tablet was removed, several holes remained in the back. Ning Chan filled them with carefully prepared explosives, sealed them with wooden plugs, and coated the surface with a thin layer of cement—making the tablet appear flawless.

As for the appearing words, it was due to heat-sensitive ink in his mixture. When sunlight warmed the tablet’s surface, the words became visible.

Once moved into shade, the tablet cooled, and the words vanished.

Making it explode required a bit more effort. Ning Chan had marked the wooden plugs with his Superpower—within the range of his psychic range, he could manipulate surrounding Elements to interact with them.

Wooden plugs, influenced by Wood Elements, would splinter into sawdust, expanding to crack the thin cement shell. Then, Fire Elements would ignite the sawdust.

Kaboom—no more thief.

If an ordinary thief had taken the tablet, Ning Chan might have triggered just one or two explosions to scare them off. But when he recognized one of those "zealots," well…

No choice—this guy would be made an example of.

All the hidden explosives detonated, and the "chicken" died instantly.

Ning Chan watched with fake-ass "sympathy" and whispered to Miced beside him, "Someone so dripping with sin, defying divine will—punishment was inevitable, right?"

Miced stared at the bloody mess in the distance, gulped like his throat was full of nails, and nodded stiffly. "Yes… don’t fuck with the gods."

Amid the distant chaos of panic and anger, Ning Chan patted Miced’s shoulder, tossed over his shoulder a final remark, and sauntered off. "Run the Charity Sale tight. If you spot another sinner freak, point them out to me—snitches get riches."

"Hmm." Miced licked his lips, bowing respectfully as Ning Chan departed.

Ning Chan had anticipated such an incident, so he prepared two Holy Tablets for easy replacement. As he passed by the Sacred Plant garden, sensing no one around—perhaps everyone’s attention was fixed on the broken Holy Tablet—he casually pointed and released the replacement from his pocket dimension, placing it there.

Just as he expected, after this ordeal, the scheming troublemakers around were thoroughly frightened.

Darren and Bonnie straightened their postures, their faces filled with piety as they prepared to receive the holy water baptism.

Unlike the usual sprinkling of holy water by bishops, they were led to a baptism chamber, where a basin was placed before each of them.

"Gentlemen, please wet your hands and face with the holy water before you. Then, rub what he called the Sacred Soap between your hands to create lather, interlace your fingers, and apply the foam to your face until no more bubbles appear. Finally, rinse away the impurities from your body with the holy water."

Father Bru instructed while having young Nuosa demonstrate, urging the newcomers to follow his guidance.

Darren and Bonnie mimicked Nuosa’s actions. Though they considered themselves clean individuals, when the basin of clear water turned murky, they suddenly felt profoundly disturbed. If possible, they wished to scrub their entire bodies with the holy water and Sacred Soap.

Moreover, they noticed a delicate floral perfume emanating from their hands—what a marvelous scent! If it could envelop their whole bodies, wouldn’t it send noble ladies into raptures?

Bonnie stared at the Sacred Soap in his hand as if gazing at a veritable gold mine beckoning to him.

Once they had washed their faces and hands, Father Bru produced an ornate flask.

Tilting it, a pale green liquid poured out, emitting a cool mist.

"Please drink the holy water to cleanse the weariness from within your bodies."

Bonnie and Darren each took a bowl of holy water, sipping cautiously at first before tilting their heads back and draining their bowls.

Feeling the refreshing coolness surge through them, they inwardly exclaimed, "Heavens, have we just drunk the nectar of the gods?"