Pirate Kingship-Chapter 792 - 496: Noah’s Ark, Fated Disaster Star!_3

Moreover, those pirates who were once treated as insignificant waste now have their own Pirate King, The Mad Hunt, capturing pirates to make puppets, which has significantly increased the risks.

Especially at this time, is it really appropriate for the Kingdom of Castilia and the Church to continue making enemies lightly?"

He is not completely stubborn; before was before, now is now.

One rival for the throne, Isabella, is already giving him enough headaches—he really doesn't have enough energy to engage in actions that might offend multiple formidable enemies.

But Saint John said without a doubt:

"This isn't about whether it's appropriate or not, but about things that must be done no matter the cost.

However, some tasks don't need us to do them personally.

Don't the Remit People have the biggest slave market? Let their slave-catcher team capture people; you just need to handle the later processing.

After establishing a nation on the Southern Continent, the Remit People are adjacent to the neighboring country, which happens to be inhabited by the Barbary Pirates and immigrants from the Star Moon Empire who believe in the Holy Spirit Sect. There couldn't be more suitable targets for hunting than these.

If executed well, even the neighboring country's settlements can possibly be annexed.

The Council of the Divine Presence will return to them the Ring of Saintly Authority from their ancestors, the Twelve Disciples, which was taken by the traitor who betrayed the Holy Son. Those folks won't refuse such a good deal."

Upon hearing this, the Puppet King finally breathed a sigh of relief:

"Alright, then there is no problem."

Once the Puppet King left, Saint John resumed his praying posture on his chair, muttering:

"All Protestants are damned heretics; we are the true representatives of God.

Everyone in the Church's senior ranks knows the Creator has had issues, and there's no longer any need to mind God's reaction.

Outsiders think this Protestant attack is merely a battle over faith, but they don't realize the nature of this religious conflict is no different from the war of the Pantheon in the past.

It is all about competing for anchoring and a slim chance of survival!

Before the cataclysm arrives, it is essential to eradicate Protestant thoughts at all costs, keeping the whole continent's faith firmly in the grasp of our Traditional Faction.

And Ruoya Ark will be the ultimate trump card.

If things go awry, we who control the Ark will decide who can board and who cannot, in effect, controlling everyone's life and death, which is equivalent to ruling the entire world.

Time is pressing, for the greater good of humanity, anyone who dares obstruct must die!"

Speaking of the Ark, Saint John instinctively turned his head to glance in the directions of Malta Island and the triangular current of the Sea of Monsters:

"Back then a deal was made to bring back the nautical chart of Noah's Ark's location in exchange for a person, but that unruly fellow has been gone for ten years and there's been no news of him.

Could it be that he has already perished overseas?

If that's the case, the hostage becomes useless."

...

The chaos at Malta Monastery has subsided.

Although the Mother of Creation, Lilith, is powerful, the power of the Blood Angel Lamia's descent was merely a sliver, and the polluted nun ultimately could not escape the suppression of the Divine Domain.

Finally, she was captured and returned by a group of armed nuns, and her body was permanently altered like her companions.

She grew a pair of curved horns on her head, her whole body turned a reddened crimson as if she'd lost her skin, and her mouth kept flicking out snake tongues.

Once she was confined in the isolation chamber, the library could not calm down for a long time.

In just a few minutes, two companions had been polluted by forbidden knowledge—a rallying cry from Marina couldn't make them continue actively engage.

The work belongs to the Church, but lives are their own.

Sister Marina realized that continuing like this wouldn't work; even if they are cannon fodder in the plan, they cannot die without value.

Being polluted by the 'Angel' might be acceptable, but getting killed for nothing by a Fallen kin is truly a waste, seriously affecting efficiency.

After pondering for a while, she decided to change the work model and ordered everyone:

"The underground prison is the place with the strongest Divine Domain defense levels in the entire monastery, even safer than the headmaster's office.

I now order everyone to move the scriptorium to the underground prison to prevent out-of-control collateral damage. Everyone will have a single room.

Report to the prison uniformly at four in the morning, lock the doors, and leave uniformly at nine at night, eating the same level of prison meals as those in special detention cells.

Anyone have any questions?"

The devout nuns couldn't possibly oppose openly, they could only reluctantly agree:

"No problem, very reasonable."

"Although we're not Ascetic Monks or Holy Knights, we can endure hardship."

Byron, however, shook his head:

"These nuns are really filled with naïve academics from the ivory tower.

In the workplace, the reality is as long as you're willing to endure hardships, you'll never run out of hardships to endure, and as long as you can work, there'll always be work to do.

And this nun really has a knack.

She has intuitively learned the essence of locking scribes in the dark room for writing.

With nothing but empty cells, there's no fish to slack off with, ensuring safety while significantly boosting efficiency.

Moreover, it's no longer 996 but 497, even oxen and horses would cry."

Yet, one could only helplessly follow a group of scribes and return to the underground prison they had just passed through.

During the chaos, Margaret and several aunts exchanged subtle glances among themselves.

In the recent commotion, no one had paid attention to the abnormal behavior of bats intentionally avoiding them, but they themselves saw it clearly.

Vaguely sensing something, they kept silent throughout, preventing others from perceiving the abnormality.