When the Saint comes, she does not collect food.

"Attention, everyone, gather at the monastery entrance. The Pope has an announcement to make."

"Everyone to the monastery entrance! All eyes on the Pope!"

Driven by the shouts of the heads of ten households and the Papal Guards, the refugees reluctantly shuffled along, herded like sheep to the front of the monastery.

Clutching their rumbling stomachs, they gathered in small groups, shaking the dust from their clothes and chatting listlessly.

"What does His Holiness the Pope want?"

One refugee plucked a black speck from his companion's body, crushing the engorged louse between his fingers. "I've been wondering, does the Church even know about our Gulag Pope?"

"Yeah, what if there's some kind of mix-up and we get dragged into it?"

"Hmph, don't talk nonsense. There can only be one sun in the sky, and in my heart, there is only Pope Hohen!"

"Yeah, yeah, you didn't see the miracle that night. You have no idea how great it was!"

"What does that have to do with me paying three thousand pounds of grain a year?"

Helping each other catch lice, the villagers finally awaited the new Pope's appearance amidst the noise, curses, and complaints.

On the day after the coup, September 20, 1444, according to the Imperial calendar, the Pope of the Gulag Papal State finally had the opportunity to deliver his oath-taking speech.

"Believers, I have good news to announce to you today." Hohen, wearing Papal robes, stood on the high walls of the monastery, raising the crucifix-shaped scepter that was about to fall apart.

"The Church has already sent a decree." Standing beside Hohen, Madelaine held up a piece of paper filled with writing, displaying it high. "At the time of the Holy Father's first descent, they were informed through divine revelation and prophecy.

The Church has recognized His Holiness as the Holy Grandson, the Eye of God, and the Chosen One. Our Pope of Thousand River Valley is about to be chosen.

But unfortunately, the Pope, as the Patriarch on Earth, feels it's unfair.

The old Pope has been the Pope for so many years, like you working hard to become a ranger, only for someone to suddenly tell you to give up your position.

That would be too insulting and cruel.

Therefore, he proposed a duel, so he could gracefully retire.

But considering the old Pope's age, we have changed the form of the duel."

Taking over Madelaine's words, Hohen continued in a loud voice, "The form of the duel will be a sacred knightly tournament, witnessed by Mother Messala!"

Hohen smiled and spread his hands, as if inviting the villagers. "The combatants will be selected from the citizens of our Gulag Papal State!"

As soon as Hohen finished speaking, the refugees in front of the monastery were silent for a moment, and then a wave of sound exploded and spread out.

The so-called knightly tournament was a large-scale event held by the nobles and knights of the Empire to practice martial arts and simulate actual combat.

It had both entertainment and sacrificial aspects and was also intended to show off military strength.

Some poor knights often used knightly tournaments to gain fame, qualifications, and money.

At the same time, with the development of the times, knightly tournaments also had some functions for promoting talents.

Knights who shined in the arena were likely to be favored by noble lords, thus gaining the opportunity to fight alongside them, obtaining fiefdoms and ransoms, and crossing the threshold of high-ranking nobles.

And some armed farmers who fought alongside them would occasionally be promoted to soldiers.

In an empire where the ceiling for farmers was lower than their knees, this was a rare activity that could cross classes.

But this matter was too far-fetched. Choosing a Pope through a knightly tournament?

But considering the deeds of this Holy Grandson Pope, it didn't seem that strange.

"Tournaments are for the knightly lords. What are we getting involved in?"

"How can we possibly beat those Church soldiers and Holy Knights..."

"Everyone, believers, don't panic!" Hohen opened his arms and gently pressed down. "In this tournament, since we have no knights, for the sake of fairness, the Church side has not sent any knights."

"But doesn't this still mean going to war with the Church?" An armed farmer looked worried.

"No, no, this is just a friendly competition, an internal martial arts exchange within the Church, just to let the old Pope leave more gracefully."

"What's a friendly competition?" A question came from somewhere.

"Good question." Hohen propped himself up on the edge of the courtyard wall, sticking his head out from the six-meter-high wall. "Did you wrestle and fight when you were kids?"

"Of course, we did."

"A friendly match means adults wrestling and fighting." Hohen smiled gently. "It's just that the wooden sticks are replaced with spears, and the branches are replaced with real swords."

For a time, the villagers' whispering movements turned into waves, constantly rising and falling in the sea of people.

"Does that mean we have to fight the Church's soldiers?"

"What do you mean fight? This is a competition. Do you see the knights fighting in the knightly tournament?"

"Will people die?"

"Nonsense, people die in every year's competition. Even without the competition, kids sometimes die when they fight and play."

"Then I'd better not go. I'm afraid of dying..."

"Don't worry. I went to ask Mother yesterday. I hope that those who die in this competition can enter the Blissful Mountain." Hohen shouted loudly to the villagers.

The villagers who were still hesitating immediately perked up their ears. Whether they could enter the heavenly Blissful Mountain after death was something they cared about very much.

"Mother said, only three are allowed. I said, okay, young people, middle-aged people, and old people."

"Mother said, only two are allowed. I said, okay, men and women."

"Mother said, only one is allowed. I said, okay. Mother asked me, which one? I said everyone."

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Hohen picked up a wooden board with traces of melted candle wax on it. "After waking up this morning, the traces left by my burning candle last night mean agreement!

So, those who die in this sacred competition can directly ascend to the Blissful Mountain without going through the Fire Hell."

More people's eyes lit up. His Holiness the Pope was so wise that he actually secured the opportunity to enter the Blissful Mountain for them.

So touched.

"Of course, I mean those who die in battle. Those who deliberately seek death still have to enter the Fire Hell." Hohen immediately added a disclaimer to his words.

"But I have two children at home. If I die and enter the Blissful Mountain, what will happen to my children?"

"Coward, if you're scared, don't play. We don't need you. There are plenty of people who will!"

"I'm afraid of pain, and we have nothing. Fighting empty-handed, we're sure to lose, aren't we?"

"I just married a young wife. It would be such a waste if I died."

Under the leadership of these pre-arranged Secret Party stooges, the villagers' thinking, as expected, began to run in the pre-set direction.

Leaving Chilves was definitely the right decision.

Although Grampwen was on the periphery of the Secret Party, he was just a newbie, unlike the old Secret Party member Chilves.

He couldn't control those stooges at all. Only Chilves could keep them in line.

"Don't be afraid, my believers. I will provide you with weapons and train you so that you have the strength to defeat them."

Hohen held out five fingers. "I reiterate once again, this is not a war with the Church. It is a special competition.

As long as we win this competition, you will all have the merit of supporting the Pope.

Don't you want fragrant white bread and warm houses?"

The villagers were temporarily speechless, but after thinking about it carefully, it was indeed the case.

Anyway, it's not war, just a special competition. We're not fighting the people of the Church, but forces from beyond the region.

Those nosy young villagers were even eager to get started.

"I hope you can strive to defeat the enemy and survive, because I will provide generous bonuses for those who survive."

Seeing that the time was ripe, Hohen said loudly, "Each team will receive a war merit ranking. The first-ranked team will receive a Beast-Tipped Sin Redemption Ticket worth 40 gold pounds and be ennobled as a Baron!

The remaining people will be awarded accordingly. Even if they rank last, they will be granted twenty acres of land."

Many people's breathing became heavy. A title, that's a title.

If we win this competition and His Holiness Hohen becomes Pope, would he really go back on his word?

Especially Rector, who was trembling with excitement. He really needed that Blood Kin Through Tip Sin Redemption Ticket.

Since his crime was revealed, the original respectful and friendly eyes were gone, leaving only contempt and hushed discussions behind his back.

He needed to use the Redemption Ticket to clear his name.

"I won't force you to participate. If you don't want to participate, you don't have to." Hohen had a mysterious smile on his lips. "If you want to participate, go to Armand to sign up. I need a limited number of people, first come, first served."