Chapter 2018 - 543: Humans Are Truly Terrifying_5

"Your Holiness the Pope, were you looking for me?"

Cardinal Francis Hillfin stepped inside.

He is the uncle of Casite Hillfin, possessing a wealth of artistic appreciation and theological knowledge, and is also a transcendent with unfathomable power.

No one knows his depth, because there's been no warfare around the Holy City for a long time, and even if there were, it usually doesn't require the intervention of the Cardinal Court's bishops.

Most bishops and popes take their extraordinary power to the grave.

Pope Gregory IX did not speak, merely extending his frail hand from beneath his robe sleeve, handing over two letters.

Francis received them respectfully, as if accepting a glass of wine from another gentleman. By the light of the candle, he first looked at the one from the Twilight Province.

It was Referee Chief Ximenes' report.

Seeing the almost fanatical rhetoric on the stationery, Francis's impeccably groomed eyebrows slightly arched, his mouth forming a meaningful curve.

He knew Ximenes as well as the Pope did; that low-born mad dog had an almost pathological obsession with heretics.

Nobles of noble birth often looked down upon such mongrels; these fellows usually lacked a stable core, stopping at nothing for ascent, and the bone a master throws today may cause a biting tomorrow.

So-called "Chaos Eradication," in his view, was nothing more than a carefully adorned farce to conceal their own incompetence.

And indeed it seemed so.

Even before the first harvest, those folks were impatient to unilaterally declare victory and retreat gracefully.

"What do you think of Ximenes' letter?" The Pope looked at Francis, asking in a calm and gentle voice.

Francis replied indifferently.

"I am not surprised at his setbacks. But according to my understanding of him, he probably wouldn't dare lie on key issues."

Pope Gregory IX nodded.

He thought so too.

Regardless of whether the Judicial Court was humiliated locally, as long as the corruption of Chaos vanished from that land, it was acceptable.

"He wants a victory. Then let him have a victory; Saint Clement Cathedral needs his triumphant return,"

Pope Gregory IX nodded and said.

"I would like this matter to be handled by you; the Hillfin family has experience in this."

"I'm honored to serve you."

Francis smiled faintly, as if brushing dust from his sleeve, placing the "report" casually on a nearby bench.

Next, he unfolded the second letter from Bishop Claude of Roland City.

Initially, Francis's expression was calm.

However, as his gaze moved downward and he saw that mongrel of low birth whimpering for gold coin without dignity, he ultimately could no longer suppress his boiling anger and uttered a blasphemous curse before the statue of Saint Sis.

"This despicable clown!"

Pope Gregory IX gave him a deep look, but Francis showed no sign of restraint, furiously crumpling the letter into a ball.

"He still has the gall to extend his hand to the Holy City for money? Does the leftover crumbs King Theoden throws him not feed his greedy mouth?"

In the eyes of the Holy City, Bishop Claude of Roland City was a living joke.

More than a decade ago, this man was merely a jester in the Ryan Royal Palace, who pleased the King with antics and juggling. Because he successfully amused King Theodore Devalu of Ryan, and through the latter's machinations, he ascended to the position of regional bishop!

Although secular kingdoms had started usurping bishop authority 500 years ago, Claude was undoubtedly the most blasphemous example.

He was the bishop with the lowest "Holy Content" in history!

And what angered the Church Court even more was that his credentials were flawless, having been promoted straight from a priest at the church, albeit rather quickly.

This matter almost became a point of attack for the Elder and Officer Factions against Saint Clement's Court's "fall of the crown."

Or rather, a point of ridicule."

Thinking about Claude's face plastered with rouge powder, Francis felt a visceral nausea, wishing to burn the letter.

"Your Majesty, that kingdom is beyond saving."

After venting his anger, Francis turned to look at the Pope, who was gazing at him, his voice filled with bone-chilling coldness.

"Why does Chaos always favor the Ryan Kingdom? Why do those filthy abominations always breed on that land? I think the answer is obvious; it's the most blasphemous place on the Old Continent!"

He pointed outside the stained glass of Saint Clement Cathedral, in the direction of the Ryan Kingdom, his eyes full of disgust and hatred.

Under the rule of the Devalu family, faith has long decayed into a tool of power! Even a clown can spout brazen nonsense from the altar, and the Holy Light flowing from their mouths only makes me sick!"

Blasphemous curses echoed in the holy Prayer Hall, the flickering candlelight like startled ghosts.

This place is closest to Saint Sis, yet it is evident that even Saint Sis does not wish to respond to this blasphemous wish.

After a brief silence, Pope Gregory IX sighed gently, ultimately not blaming his most trustworthy cardinal.

"Enough, Francis, let us stick to the matter at hand."

The old man's voice bore a trace of fatigue, like a candle nearly burnt out, each drop of wax hanging on the candle holder filled with helplessness.