Chapter 137 Planning
The body is frighteningly heavy.
He was a filthy, screaming beast stuck in a mousetrap, and one even wondered why this body had not completely disintegrated under the cruel gravity of the planet.
A series of flickering, enormous images devoured him, and he felt that he had become a new form of life in the agony of his spirit, a newborn who was too fragile, sensitive, and full of fear for the old world that was so rotten and hopeless.
The torture without dignity follows him everywhere, the seething torture, the mournful roars that cannot be distinguished whether they are dreams or reality, belong to the rage of hundreds of billions of creatures named "human" in the roars of three million years - he is the executioner and also the tortured.
A familiar wailing sound pierced the prisoner's eardrums like a sharp thorn, the stinging pain yanking his consciousness from his hazy dream and returning him completely to the cold, fetid prison cell. Daybreak was just beginning, and pale light filtered through the narrow gap in the sky, illuminating the small patch of ground before him. A crow stood silently at the barred window, watching him—it was time to return to this exhausting "comic book."
Rajeev Ryan was transferred. Although he was a rude, arrogant, and annoying guy, the fact that he was sent to White Tower to deal with these heretics showed that he had some ability.
The other judges didn't quite understand how the other party had angered Bishop Miller, who was said to be good-tempered. They just felt that it seemed to be related to the prisoner in the single cell at the end of the corridor. However, after just half a day, no judge was willing to approach that cell.
That tall, thin, and gloomy-looking young man was like a wild cat that hissed and growled like a venomous snake, attacking everyone indiscriminately. If anyone caught a glimpse of him, all the secrets he was reluctant to reveal would be revealed: for example, he skipped work last night to visit a prostitute, unaware that his wife was having an affair with a neighbor at home; or he tried to collect a bribe from a prisoner but ran into a competitor, and in anger and humiliation, he started a fight.
Even if the trial had not been arranged yet, it was not that they could not torture people within the limited scope of their power. As a result, this guy refused to eat a single bite even after spilling the thin soup mixed with filth and breaking off pieces of rotten and moldy black bread to feed the rats. He fainted in the cell, which scared the judge on duty into thinking he was dead, and directly brought in Bishop Miller. From then on, no one dared to deliberately torture this ancestor again.
Later, apparently realizing the Cardinal's inexplicable regard for his life, this man's cell was placed very close to the interrogation room, intended to mentally torture these special prisoners and serve as a warning to others. However, upon regaining consciousness, he declared that the screams of the tortured prisoners had weakened him, and if he saw another prisoner enter the interrogation room and be tortured, he would commit suicide.
In order to show his determination, this man really seized the opportunity and banged his head against the wall without hesitation - in the end they had to tie him up and fix him to the iron bed, stuffing burlap in his mouth to prevent him from biting his tongue to commit suicide.
Such a commotion once again attracted the busy Bishop Miller. After dismissing his attendants, he frowned and looked down at the tightly bound Chosen One in front of him, who had caused chaos in the entire Inquisition in just three days.
Compared to his initial impression, the young man had become noticeably thinner, his smoky gray eyes gleaming frighteningly bright. Even a good-looking man would have been utterly shattered after such an ordeal, but he still didn't look like the common prisoners here, crippled and cowered by the weight of an unknown fate. Something incomprehensible still sustained his soul. He was looking down at him.
Miller didn't know what was going on in his mind. Always a clean person, he personally removed the burlap from the mouth of the Chosen One. Then, after regaining his freedom of speech, the first thing the guy did was to open his chapped lips and taunt him hoarsely, "It seems like it's not pleasant to be without your own people around you?"
This cardinal from the Royal City Diocese is not in charge of matters related to heresy judgment. The people he can order around him are all from the Constant Diocese - in other words, they are all Dante Matthews's team. Even if the other party is most likely sent by the Pope, it would be strange if they don't cause trouble for him.
Pawanton Miller stroked his scepter without saying a word. If the man hadn't been tied up and could only stare at the ceiling, he would have suspected that the other party could get the answer directly from his expression.
The Cardinal was not prepared to let an ordinary person dictate the pace of the conversation.
"Those students at White Tower University began interfering with the Inquisition's arrest efforts. They tipped off their targets and hid them inside White Tower University, as if it were a fortress of exceptional security."
Pavaton Miller seemed to find this somewhat amusing. To ensure the prisoner could hear clearly, he spoke slowly and clearly, "So all the arrested students in the Inquisition have been separated and detained. They will be interrogated one by one tomorrow morning."
But the cardinal didn't see the expected emotional shift on the prisoner's face. He seemed to have anticipated this, and simply lowered his eyes indifferently. "But you still haven't stormed into White Tower University and captured all the townspeople and ordinary people in one fell swoop."
"Why? Is it because of the mercy and kindness of the Holy See?" His voice became softer and softer, with an inexplicable hint of sarcasm.
Pawanton Miller slowly tightened his grip on the scepter, watching as a strange and complacent smile appeared on the face of the chosen one.
He said word by word, "--Of course, it's because you poor pagans don't dare to offend a real god."
The Storm God Utoska often appeared at White Tower University. Under the premise that the God suspected that it was his territory and might develop faith in it, no fool would rush in again at the risk of offending the God.
“…”
A terrifying and heavy pressure suddenly crushed down on him. Nova even felt that all the bones in his body were creaking, as if in the next second he would be turned into bone and meat paste along with his internal organs that were barely moving.
It seemed that when he first met the one favored by God, the other party had obviously shown mercy. In the midst of such great confusion and pain, a strange idea suddenly popped up in his mind - it made no sense that a saint would be inferior to a Lord's Prayer, and he also had the opportunity to get close and smell the "unique scent from the unbelievers."
It wasn't until a trace of blood oozed out from the corner of his lips that the terrifying pressure around him suddenly eased. Then Miller watched helplessly as the guy, who had just escaped death, lazily tilted his head, spat out a mouthful of blood foam, and narrowed his eyes at him provocatively: "Why, why don't you dare to just kill me?"
"Which god are you afraid of? Analene, the goddess of love... or Utosca, the god of storms?"
Miller said coldly: "The Storm God Utoska is dead."
"I didn't say whether that god was dead or alive," the black-haired young man replied calmly. "And how can you be sure he's dead and not 'fallen asleep'? Did our respected Lord God of Light tell you that? Did he not see him in his 'place of eternal rest'?"
He got no answer.
An ordinary person would have gradually lost confidence in this silence, even begun to doubt themselves, but the professor stared at the ceiling, his tone becoming increasingly calm: "It seems you are also aware of the mess that those stupid sacrificialists have caused."
Miller knew that the sacrificial sect was trying to awaken the gods through various human sacrifices, and naturally he also knew the reason why the sacrificial sect gathered in White Tower Town - the suspected resurrection of the God of Storms, although the other party was probably still skeptical about it.
However, according to the plan, Azuka had probably already unleashed the Breath of Storm: a young yet incredibly powerful being, capable of unleashing the Breath of Storm, with the aura of the Storm God lingering in his soul. Furthermore, the true Utoska was impossible to appear in this world. Even if Pavaton Miller had his doubts, he wouldn't dare gamble. After all, he had already lost one chance to seize the Chosen One, and if he missed another, the Pope wouldn't let him go.
If this were true, it would be the only successful case of a god being resurrected, even if the god was bound by the life and death of an ordinary person. This news would be enough to drive any fanatic or even any religious force mad, whether it was out of faith or for the sake of their waning power.
——Even those "gods" who are hiding somewhere will go crazy because of this.
As expected.
"...If that was Utosca, the God of Storms, why did that Excellency allow you to be captured by the Inquisition?"
God is arrogant and would never tolerate being controlled by the life and death of an ordinary person - but he would also never tolerate his own life being controlled by others.
The professor narrowed his eyes in satisfaction. He liked talking to smart people, because smart people always thought a lot and were extremely confident in themselves, believing in all the flaws they found.
"Then you should ask those idiots of the Sacrifice Cult." He sneered, then shut up, not saying another word. As for whether Dante Matthews was a member of the Sacrifice Cult? That was something Pavaton Miller needed to worry about.
After an unknown amount of time, Pavard Miller suddenly turned and left, instructing his men to arrange for a healer to cast a healing spell on him. Just as he was about to leave the cell, the professor suddenly raised his voice, "Everything I said before still holds true."
“If anyone else in the Inquisition is tortured, whether it’s a student or a town resident, I will commit suicide.” He spoke of his own life and death as if it were a script: “You can try to see if I can do it.”
The Cardinal didn't pause, but Nova knew he had heard.
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