“Our God has not descended for a long time. Although we don’t want to admit it, it’s not unreasonable for these apostates to suspect that God has abandoned us. He doesn’t even care whether His followers have betrayed Him.”
Patrick looked somewhat sad.
"You mean the Divine Descent Festival? I heard them say that in the past, the Divine Descent Festival could actually invite the God of Destiny."
"Yes, you know that once a person favored by the gods reaches the level of divine descent, they can request the gods to descend upon their body. The so-called divine descent celebration is when a pope who has reached the level of divine descent requests the descent of the gods."
"But we don't know which year the divine descent celebration began, but the gods never descended again. At that time, the Holy See was in its glorious period, and there were many divinely favored people of divine descent level, but they prayed day and night and were never able to invite the gods again."
"Several elderly divine beings of divine descent died in despair because of this."
"Later on, the Church of Destiny gradually declined, and those who could not break through to the level of Godhood gradually passed away due to the limitations of lifespan. The number of young people who broke through to the level of Godhood became less and less. In the past few decades, only your father broke through to the level of Godhood, and that is why he became our Pope."
"The Divine Descent Celebration is now just an annual festival for everyone. The rituals are merely a consolation, and the so-called descent of Ansel remains only in distant memories."
"But no matter what, I will never betray my God. I believe that one day I will be able to see Him descend to earth again."
Phil Gray gave him a comforting hug. "God hasn't abandoned us. Isn't it the best proof that we are chosen by God and can hear His words? Perhaps He just has other things to do in heaven."
Patrick shook his head slightly. "The divine pronouncements and the power gained upon their completion are essentially predetermined, derived from His laws and authority. He naturally wouldn't whisper them in the ears of His followers, and as for 'gazing upon' them, how could His gaze linger on so many followers simultaneously?"
In other words, those favored by the gods are more like players in a game on Earth, while the divine pronouncements are like pre-set tasks that reward you upon completion.
The only difference is that to become a chosen one, one must be devout to the gods from beginning to end.
So, am I a special case granted by the god of fate? Or is it a bug in this task system?
“Cousin, you were an ordinary person before and didn’t know about the Chosen Ones. We haven’t mentioned it to you either. The Church of Destiny is still in a very dangerous situation.”
“I’m not referring to Wendell and the Knight Commander’s betrayal, but to the threat from other churches.”
"We have fewer and fewer high-ranking chosen ones, but other churches are not like that. They can still invite their own gods, and they have many high-ranking chosen ones."
As you know, due to suppression by some churches, the Church of Destiny has lost its territory in the Eastern Continent and can only barely survive in these remote cities of the Western Continent. If it weren't for the help of the Church of Life, our remaining territories would probably have been completely devoured by them long ago.
"Which ones are targeted at our church?"
Patrick smiled wryly, "There are too many to count on one hand. The big churches are eyeing it covetously, and even some of the smaller churches want a piece of the pie."
"Just like the knight mentioned at the gathering, the Dream Cult was behind his actions, as were the Plague Controller, the Dark Night Cult, the Crimson Calamity, and others, all of whom have attacked us before."
Has the Church of Life helped us?
“Yes, our parish is adjacent to the parish of the Church of Life, and we have always had contact with them and received a lot of help from them. Oh, and the Church of the Dead has also helped us.”
Phil Gray nodded. Wilder was a favorite of death, and he had saved his own life.
"But cousin, you were the Pope for four years, so it's one thing for you to be unaware of things like the Chosen Ones, but how come you don't know about these things?"
Phil Gray flicked his cousin on the head.
"In the past, I was just the pope in name only. The papacy was controlled by those bishops, and my power had long been taken over by them without my knowledge." Although this was to cover up his identity, it was mostly his guess based on the real situation. The reason why the original owner was so idle as pope was probably because his power had long been taken over by that Bishop Wendell and the knight commander. Their current betrayal was also premeditated.
"Oh, cousin, you're so unlucky. I used to envy you."
It was already late at night, and there was no trace of pedestrians on the streets.
Under the pitch-black night sky, snowflakes began to fall again; it was snowing once more.
Phil Gray and Patrick walked side by side, both feeling heavy-hearted. The surroundings were completely silent, with only the occasional crunching sound of their boots on the snow.
With the Vatican still embroiled in internal strife and the Pope himself missing, it's inevitable that rival churches will seize the opportunity to exploit the situation.
Phil Gray, it's not that I don't want to help you, it's just that the start you've given me is too difficult.
He complained to the original owner of the body in his heart, and then he remembered the letter the original owner had given him.
In the letter, the original owner mentioned that the god of fate chose him, which means that the original owner knew the god's intention. How could an ordinary person like him have a connection with the god when the god had not descended for so many years?
As they walked, lost in thought, they soon arrived at the hotel where they were staying. The hotel door was closed, but unlocked, presumably for the convenience of guests.
Compared to the howling wind outside, the hotel was much warmer.
There were only two or three people in the tavern on the ground floor, slumped over the tables, seemingly completely drunk.
Goodnight, cousin.
"good evening."
The morning sun dispelled the layers of gloom; the morning after the snow was especially cold, and the white stone crackled in the fireplace. The tavern was already filled with all sorts of people: drunken slurrs, priests in green robes, melancholy young girls, and merchants engaging in lively discussions.
Phil Gray and Patrick sat facing each other, and Gene ordered some breakfast for them.
"I was planning to eat inside, it's too cold down here, but you said we could gather some information down here, but it doesn't seem like it would be of any use." Patrick, who was used to the life of a pampered young master in the Grey family, couldn't stand this simple and somewhat cold tavern.
Not to mention listening to vulgar language and drunken boasting.
“No, there is still one useful piece of information.” Phil Gray shook his head, looking at the face in front of him that resembled his own by about 50%. “There is a cemetery in the White Chrysanthemum District of Duer City.”
The division of the city of Duer fully embodies the characteristics of the Church of Life, with the city's districts named after plants.
“A cemetery? What’s the use of that?” A question mark popped into Patrick’s mind.
Just now, two pastors from the Church of Life sat down next to them and talked about the upcoming renovation of the cemetery in Baiju District this year. They discussed it at length, saying it was an arrangement by a certain nobleman. For the Church of Life, their primary concern is the living, so renovating the cemetery is quite incredible.
“It will be very useful. I’m going to the cemetery in a bit, you don’t need to come with me,” Phil Gray said.
"Huh? Cousin, I have to protect your safety."
"No need. I'll wear a mask, and no one will recognize me. Surely no one would deliberately attack an ordinary citizen?"
"But you, before I get back, dye your hair a different color."
"Huh?" Patrick's face fell.
He watched his cousin's retreating figure and realized that he understood him less and less. But after all, he was the Pope; he had to have some secrets, didn't he?
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