Chapter 83: Leave Everything to Me

Mazzola, the “Two-Legged Bald Rattlesnake,” stood high above, his face icy cold.

There was not a trace of the compassion that a righteous and fair Divine Master should have. He glanced at the restless crowd and said calmly, “The Church received a secret report. Not long ago, during the battle at the Stone Bridge of Shampoo City, the most evil Necromancy in the world appeared… I now suspect that these people have been tempted by demons because I sense a faint aura of the Undead from them… Children of God, do not attempt to doubt the fairness of God the Father… I assure you, the Church will make the most just judgment. As long as it is confirmed that they did not make a deal with demons, I will personally escort them out of the church.”

This was the reason Mazzola gave.

And this seemingly simple reason instantly terrified the residents of Shampoo City on both sides of the street. Some who were wailing and begging desperately as their loved ones were dragged away froze in shock upon hearing this, no longer daring to make a sound, their eyes filled with despair and hopelessness.

On the Azeroth Continent, no matter how prominent your status, once the Church suspects you of having ties with demons, it is equivalent to signing a contract with the God of Death. A place on the Holy Church’s Stake has already been reserved for you in advance.

This was not an exaggeration. There was a chilling example:

Twenty years ago, Bruno, the powerful sixth-level emperor of the Durin Empire, who was renowned across the Azeroth Continent, was exceptionally talented and brilliant. He reached the peak of Moon-level Expert before the age of fifty—becoming a Full Moon-level Expert. Some even prophesied that Bruno was just one step away from advancing to Sun-level Master. With a million-strong army and countless experts under his command, the Durin Empire dominated the continent for over a decade, and no one dared to challenge their might.

But even at the peak of his power, Bruno met with a catastrophic end.

The reason was simply that at a Church banquet, the overly arrogant Bruno unintentionally offended Pope Platini of the Holy Church. The Pope severely accused him of colluding with evil spirits and demons from Hell. With one order, he commanded the Judgment Knight Order of the Holy Church to forcefully erase the Durin Empire from the continent. As for Bruno himself, a super expert, his end was even more tragic—it was said that he was tied to the Stake atop Wanliu Peak, the Holy Mountain of the Holy Church headquarters, and was roasted alive by terrifying magical flames for three whole years before dying in endless agony.

Thus, Mazzola’s simple sentence instantly made everyone’s hearts sink into despair. The young girls who were dragged out with chains around their necks fainted on the spot upon hearing this.

The streets fell silent.

Even the close relatives of the captured young women and strong men dared not say another word, not even crying.

The tyranny of the Church was evident.

Mazzola, the “Two-Legged Bald Rattlesnake,” was clearly satisfied with the effect he had caused.

He enjoyed such an atmosphere of being feared.

Mazzola stroked his beloved black staff in his hand, looked around with great authority, and found that no one dared to meet his gaze. Only then did he nod with satisfaction. The frustration and humiliation he had suffered days before at the Holy Church branch in St. Petersburg, the capital of the Zenit Empire, was finally compensated for at this moment. He felt triumphant again.

But just as he was about to turn back to the gilded Magic Carriage—

“Please wait, Divine Master. I can testify that these people have nothing to do with evil Necromancy.”

A clear, pleasant voice suddenly rang in his ears, completely ruining the good mood Mazzola had just regained.

The rattlesnake flew into a rage.

He suddenly turned around, pointed his staff without even looking to see who had spoken, and instantly, a bright white beam filled with destructive energy shot out from the purple gem embedded in the top of his beloved black staff. Like a laser, it flew toward the direction of the voice.

The Divine Master’s divine technique, One-Hit Kill.

The attack was vicious and without warning, clearly intended to kill with a single strike.

The street erupted in uncontrollable cries of shock.

While Divine Master Mazzola did not see who had spoken, the others saw clearly. Everyone’s faces instantly turned pale, because the person who had bravely stepped forward at great risk was none other than Angela, the future Queen Consort of King Alexander of Shampoo City, a gentle and lovely girl as pure as snow.

The bright white beam, carrying a scorching heat, instantly reached Angela’s face, already burning the strands of her black hair flying in the evening breeze… Just as it seemed that a peerlessly beautiful girl would die tragically on the spot for merely speaking a sentence—

Clang!

A massive black sword shimmering with blue flames suddenly appeared out of nowhere, blocking the path in front of Angela.

The hilt was held in a broad, strong hand.

The thick black blade trembled slightly, and blue flames rippled under the impact of the bright white beam until both disappeared completely.

The person who had appeared in time was Frank Lampard, the former top expert of Shampoo City.

“How dare you attack the Princess Consort! Divine Master Mazzola, are you deliberately trying to create conflict between the Church and Shampoo City?”

Lampard stood firm, gripping his sword. The black blade was as heavy as a mountain, and his sky-blue Water Element Battle Qi surged fiercely. His fiery red hair broke free from the cloth binding it, strands flying wildly. With an imposing and majestic presence, he stared intently at Mazzola standing on the step of the gilded carriage and loudly demanded.

“Oh, it’s Princess Consort Angela… My apologies for the rudeness.”

Mazzola finally saw who had spoken against him earlier, but the future Queen Consort of a mere Sixth-Class Vassal State of a first-level empire was not worthy of his regard. Though he offered a faint apology, no one could detect any remorse on his face. He smirked disdainfully and said, “Lord Lampard, please put away your black divine weapon. Do you intend to attack a Divine Master of the Church?”

Lampard paused briefly.

After a moment of hesitation, he frowned and suddenly retracted the black divine weapon into a sheath on his back. However, anger still showed on his face. His eyes scanned the several Shampoo City civilians dragged out with chains by the clerics, and he angrily questioned, “What crime have these people committed? Does the Holy Church think it can act as it pleases when arresting people?”

“Watch your words, Lord Lampard…” Mazzola, provoked repeatedly, grew slightly angry. Standing high above, he shouted with a contemptuous expression, “Are you doubting the fairness of God the Father? We have solid evidence that Necromancy appeared during the previous battle in Shampoo City. I suspect these individuals are involved, so we are taking them to the church to uncover the truth…”

“But Divine Master, I have absolute proof that the people you arrested have no connection to Necromancy…”

Before the “Two-Legged Bald Rattlesnake” could finish speaking, Angela interrupted him. The beautiful girl was clearly frightened by the earlier dangerous incident, her face still pale. Yet, her pure, crystal-like eyes shone with brave determination. Glancing at the pleading looks of the captured young girls, Angela firmly refuted, “Divine Master, you said the Necromancy appeared during the battle at the Stone Bridge. But everyone in Shampoo City can testify that none of these arrested individuals were present at the Stone Bridge. Therefore, they couldn’t possibly have any connection to the Necromancy that occurred there.”

Angela’s words brought a glimmer of hope to everyone in Shampoo City.

“That’s right, they never even left the city! How could they be related to the Necromancy at the Stone Bridge?”

“Maybe it was those damned black-clad bastards who attacked Shampoo City who used the Necromancy!”

“Divine Master, please don’t arrest innocent people!”

“Princess Consort Angela is right—Nili and the others definitely have nothing to do with Necromancy…”

“Exactly! Aunt Guli just gave birth less than a month ago and can’t even lift a kitchen knife. How could she know anything about Necromancy?”

Hearing Angela’s defense, the crowd on both sides of the street finally found the courage to speak the truth. They shouted loudly, especially the relatives of those arrested, who hurriedly cried out about the injustice. The scene began to spiral out of control.

In truth, everyone understood the real reason the Church had arrested these people—

The few decently dressed strong men were held as hostages to extort money from their families, while the other young, pretty girls were intended as tools for the Church officials to satisfy their desires. They would be kept like slaves, forced to clean the church and manage the daily lives of the Church members. Such methods had occurred many times before. Of course, in the end, some would be burned at the Stake under the charge of colluding with evil forces. Today, the “Aunt Guli” who was still holding her child but was dragged out was likely the unfortunate person Mazzola intended to burn to demonstrate the Church’s authority.

Watching the scene unfold, Divine Master Mazzola on the step of the gilded carriage was momentarily speechless.

He hadn’t expected a young girl’s words to cause so much trouble. The commoners were starting to cause a commotion, seriously challenging his authority. The thought enraged the venomous rattlesnake, and his expression darkened as he threateningly snarled, “Evil forces are always skilled at deceiving people and blinding the eyes of the kind and ignorant… Princess Consort Angela, Lord Lampard, if you do not step aside, the Church will regard you as accomplices of Necromancy. The Stake shows no mercy!”

After saying this, Mazzola didn’t wait for their response and directly turned to enter the gilded Magic Carriage.

Seeing this, the short, fat cleric nearest to Lampard and Angela shook the iron chains in his hand triumphantly. “Haha, please step aside! Otherwise… hehe!” The last two words, delivered with a hypocritical smile, carried a strong threat.

Lampard’s eyebrows shot up, and his large hand gripped the hilt of the black divine weapon on his back.

He glanced back at Angela with a questioning look.

Angela’s beautiful eyes were filled with anxious tears.

The young girl was momentarily at a loss, her heart burning with anxiety. She understood that if she signaled Lampard to rescue the people, it would bring catastrophic disaster to Alexander, who was about to be formally crowned King, and to the entire Shampoo City… But letting innocent subjects be taken away by the Church was something the kind-hearted girl could not bear.

Just then—

A warm, sturdy hand gently rested on the girl’s shoulder, followed by that familiar, magnetic voice that sounded like a heavenly melody in Angela’s ear: “Leave everything to me!”