When the Saint comes, she does not collect food.

“Hmph, ahhhhhh——”

The crows perched on the branches were startled by this sudden shout, almost falling from the trees.

Horn's previously kind and peaceful face suddenly turned ferocious, his nostrils twitching incessantly, his arms stretched forward, his whole body trembling and convulsing.

Foam flowed from the corners of his mouth as Horn drew ∞ symbols in the air with his head, his hands sometimes spreading like a roc's wings, sometimes crossed to protect his chest.

“Eeeee, eeeeee, eeeeee——”

“Oooo, oooo, oooo, oooo——”

Horn crossed his legs, his hands twisted together like ropes, and his mouth emitted almost continuous screams, threatening to drown out the clamorous discussions.

Thanks to the training in knight breathing techniques and the blessing of transcendent abilities, Horn's ability to perform shamanistic dances, no, to be possessed by the Holy Father, was unprecedentedly enhanced.

Not only could he use his flexible body, honed by breathing techniques, to strike even stranger poses, but he could also constantly adjust his breathing to make the mournful screams from his mouth even longer.

With the blessing of one level of breathing technique, the effect of being possessed by the Holy Father had improved so much.

If he reached the strength of three levels of breathing technique, to what extent would the effect of his shamanistic dance reach!

Sure enough, the bizarre and terrifying atmosphere was much stronger than before.

“The Holy Father has descended, worship the Holy Father!”

At the simultaneous shouts of Bursak and Jeschka, the villagers of Moulin Rouge all knelt down.

When Horn shouted, they raised their hands high, reverently prostrating their foreheads to the ground.

When Horn convulsed, they straightened up and shouted in response.

The refugees from outside Gulag Monastery widened their eyes, not understanding what was happening.

They watched Horn convulsing wildly under the moonlight, his mysterious movements, his mournful cries, as if he were enduring something he shouldn't be enduring.

Surrounding Horn in the center, the Pontifical Guards looked fanatical, rising and falling like waves with Horn's voice.

Under the moonlight, the stigmata on Horn's neck seemed to glow.

Could it be… is it really the Holy Father?

The refugees began to feel fear; this didn't seem like acting.

“We sincerely thank the Holy Father for his grace, bestowing upon us body and spirit, may the merciful Holy Lord bless and cleanse our sinful bodies.”

Unbeknownst to when, amidst the hymns of the Pontifical Guards, the other refugees began to sing along, many even collapsing to their knees.

“Madness, madness!” Tonley's terrified cries were so jarring amidst the hymns.

Initially, it was the Holy Ten Households belonging to the Pontifical Guards who sang reflexively, but as the bandwagon effect fermented, most people followed suit.

When the chorus reached its climax, Horn, rolling his eyes and twitching at the corners of his mouth, suddenly returned to calmness and serenity.

The hymns slowly ceased, and everyone's eyes focused on Horn, who seemed to be draped in a veil of holiness and terror in the preceding dance and hymns.

“I am the Holy Father!”

Horn's upright body suddenly hunched over, and he forced two nasolabial folds onto his face. He touched his non-existent beard and looked up at the sky.

Below his gaze, the refugees knelt on the ground, as quiet as lambs.

Only Tonley and the others stood stiffly, so out of place.

“Hahahaha.”

Horn, willing to risk being exposed, directly acted as if the Holy Father had descended. Tonley simply tore off the last fig leaf.

He pointed the short sword in his hand at Horn: “Do you think that by performing a dance and shouting a few incomprehensible words, everyone will believe you are the Holy Father?”

Tonley's statement did not elicit any response, but only echoed in the empty hillside.

Everything was silent, and this voice, filled with fear, was even somewhat out of tune.

Horn's face remained expressionless, still not looking at the crowd, but instead looking at the upper right, his face still with a compassionate expression.

“Rector, have you come?”

“Holy Father, your devout believer is here.”

Although he didn't know why the Holy Father called him, Rector quickly imitated Corsi's actions, supporting himself on the ground with both hands and sliding forward for more than a meter.

“Rector, you have listened to the gospel many times, but you do not know how to repent. The pleasure of men and women and disturbing human relations is forbidden by the commandments!”

This time, the Holy Father's face did not have the previous amiability, but a rare majesty and unapproachable authority.

The voice was not loud, but to Rector, it was like a thunderclap, freezing the blood in his whole body, and he felt that the world in front of him was blurred.

How could he forget that the Holy Father, of course, knew everything in the world, and he had been lucky every time, thinking he could hide it from everyone.

But the Holy Father knew everything.

Fear turned into nausea, he wanted to get up and bow again, but his whole body collapsed to the ground.

“Holy Father, Holy Father, I was wrong, I was wrong.” Rector wept bitterly, his whole body trembling.

Horn ignored him and turned his gaze to the air: “Doyle of the Ryland family, have you come?”

Not far away, the kneeling refugees quickly made way, exposing Doyle, who was lying on the ground and trembling, to everyone's view.

“Doyle, the devil's task is to steal, rob, and deceive, and stealing from loved ones is even more sinful!”

Horn shouted sternly, and everyone's eyes focused on Doyle.

Doyle's face was as pale as bone, and his whole body shook like a sieve.

A middle-aged farmer roared in disbelief and pounced on him.

“I said who stole the money I hid, it turned out to be you, you bastard!”

“Don't hit me, I was wrong.”

“That's your sister's dowry, are you going to steal that too?”

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“What if I stole it? Don't I need to get married? You just want to keep me by your side to support you in your old age!”

Ignoring the father and son's fight, Horn continued to look at the air: “Dora of the Cheek family, have you come?”

“Dora, you secretly slander your friends, is that what a believer should do?”

“Oh, you secretly soiled other people's phalanx bread with sweaty hands…”

“Murrig, you led other people's sheep back to your own sheepfold, which is undoubtedly stealing…”

In the silent night, Horn, based on the information collected by the child soldiers, continuously pointed out the evil deeds and secrets of seven or eight people.

Those who were named all changed their faces, knelt on the ground and constantly repented, weeping bitterly.

Among them were people from the Pontifical Guard and people from the refugees, but none of them were wrong.

Every time someone knelt on the ground, the remaining people had a few more points of panic and respect on their faces.

The wind grew stronger, even shaking the large bell in the bell tower, making a slight bell sound.

In the night sky, the sound of bells, the sound of repentance, the sound of wind, and the sound of weeping mixed together in Horn's stern and old hoarse voice.

The lingering sound of the hymns was still melodious, and the mournful and mysterious roar was still in his ears. Although the world in front of him was still the same world, when Horn stood there, everything seemed different.

Tonley was confused. He looked at Horn, who seemed to be standing there with endless majesty, and was completely confused.

You know, many of the secrets and crimes that Horn pointed out were committed in extremely private environments. When the crimes were committed, there was even only one person, and they could still be known?

Looking at Horn's eyes, which were majestic and condescending, an unprecedented sense of fear pressed on his heart.

Could it be that the Holy Father really descended?

Were the previous speculations all wrong?

Cold sweat dripped down Tonley's forehead, and the thugs and armed farmers guarding him buried their heads and left little by little.

“Tonley, do you know your crime?” The old and hoarse voice sounded again.

The voice was not loud, but it fell into Tonley's ears like a thunderbolt. His knees softened and he knelt down unconsciously.

“I warned you long ago that Horn is the true adopted son of Messala, my true grandson. With him, all difficulties will pass, but you just won't listen!

Horn is my only eye in the world, able to see all things. To be disrespectful to him is to be disrespectful to me!

Tonley, you isolated the inside and outside of the Papal Palace, falsely conveyed the Pope's edict, and even beat the believers, and you refuse to admit all kinds of crimes!

Horn wanted to be tolerant to you, but you used false contracts to refute, causing the people to distrust each other. Do you know your crime?”

Tonley's throat was dry. He wanted to say something, but he couldn't say anything. He could only look pale and keep shaking.

“Even if mankind forgets and history is篡改, I will never forgive you.”

“My words are exhausted, I'm going to heaven——”

As soon as the words fell, the previously majestic Horn suddenly collapsed, startling the people nearby to help him.

But the Holy Grandson Lord still twitched for a while before returning to normal.

With the support of the crowd, Horn stood up with a wry smile: “The power of the Holy Father, I, a mortal body, am really hard to bear.”

Tapping the muscles on his calf, Horn secretly warned himself that he couldn't do difficult movements for the sake of the show next time, he was cramping.

Countless people buried their heads in the ground, looking at Horn with incomparable fanaticism.

What was that?

That was a miracle just now!

Those who had previously clamored and doubted were lying on the ground, not daring to move at all.

“The sins committed by the previous people were because they did not know that the Holy Father had eyes, so I will atone for you and baptize you, but I can only wash away the sins of the human world.”

Ignoring the distraught "sinners" who heard the last sentence, Horn looked at Tonley with a confused face, “As for Archbishop Tonley, alas, why did it have to come to this?

Everyone, rest assured, only the chief culprit will be held accountable, not the others. Tonley will be given forty strokes of the staff, imprisoned for repentance, and stripped of his cardinalship. He will still retain the title of Metropolitan Archbishop of the Thousand River Valley, and the cardinalship will be reassigned to Father Corsi!”