C1

Chen Fusheng closed the ancient and heavy history book, rubbed his dry eyes, and then quietly put it back into the purple sandalwood bookshelf of the Grand Duke. He did not want to be accidentally seen by a maid who came in to clean up. It would be a fine thing for the grand duke to hear that the second son of the grand duke was reading some obscure and obscure book of heaven, but it was not a good thing for him, who had a brother who coveted the position of successor.

He spent two years adapting himself to the identity of the second son of the great Duke of Delman Empire, Sibor Joseph, while his father, Carlisle Joseph, the grand duke of the Delman Empire, was a man whose status was second only to those princes. He had once followed the Holy Knight Dragon Slayer at the age of twelve and used iron and blood political means to establish the order of the strongest men in the empire at the age of twenty, and a few days before the end of his birthday, the Joseph family knights led by him defeated the unstoppable Persian Empire on their third crusade, slaughtering and killing 100,000 soldiers.

In his previous life, the old man who liked to sit under the locust tree and smoke and sing a song of 'Qin' had once told himself that no matter how high a man stood, as long as one day he would be free of power, the only thing left to support him would be the indomitable brocade of mountains and rivers in his chest.

He was also quietly waiting for the arrival of the Cardinal. Before this, Chen Fusheng had spent a year painstakingly preparing, flipping through the Grand Duke's bookshelves, which had church letters and scrolls thicker than bricks. It was in order to obtain the recognition of the Arch-Cardinal during the baptism, and thus smoothly obtaining the invitation to enter the Magic Palace, instead of getting himself into it through the Grand Duke's connections.

Joseph's secret teachings were that, when one was not strong enough to be promoted with one's own strength, gaining the recognition of someone in a higher position was one of the fastest methods.

This was also the first move that Chen Fusheng had taken since he arrived in this world.

In the spacious carriage sat the Red Cloak High Priest of the Vatican, Hoyce of St. Petersburg, who happened to have a report from the Temple's Shadow Guards, which stated that one of the twelve apostles had been discovered in the areas under the jurisdiction of the German Empire. The presence of the plague apostle and the reappearance of the isolated apostle meant that there were two things, one was the possibility that in the next hundred years, new apostles of the gods would appear to replace the kings of the old century. Secondly, there would be a bloody war in the Ionian Continent.

Whether it was the military threat or the political advantage, they were both not comparable to the few surrounding dynasties that were on the verge of dying. Thinking of this, the proud Hoyos drew a cross on his chest and muttered to himself, "May God bless us, this great empire will never fall."

As a great professor in the Magic Palace, his most important duties were those talented students. If not for the request of his old friend Sheffield, he would never have bothered to look for clues from the classics that he hadn't opened for hundreds of years.

Even the golden edges of the Da Hong Pao glittered under the light. Outside the carriage was a group of mighty Holy Knights of the Empire, the shields and spears in their hands glowing with a pale white light from the baptism of the Mentor. It was said that the spears held by Holy Gear could pierce through the hardest skin of the dark creatures and wash away all evil, and these Holy Knights who had the emblem of a delicate rose embroidered on their chests were the pride of the Empire and the Doyen.

A few years ago the plague in the city had turned this once prosperous and poor part of the city into a deserted part of the city, where Doyen had once spoken to the Empire about building a church to prevent it from becoming a breeding ground for some dark creatures, but the Empire had refused Doyen's request with financial constraints.

"Stop." The leader of the paladins who was walking at the front waved his hand and stopped the carriage and soldiers at the same time. The paladin who was guarding the bishop of Hoyos revealed his spear and stared in front of him.

Huis lifted the curtain and saw a man wearing a black cloak standing not far away. His face was buried deep in his hood as he faced a group of the Empire's best holy knights single-handedly.

When he was still a minor mass, he had seen with his own eyes that in the religious wars, those heretics who lost were burned to death in the Flowers Plaza. In this world, there were almost as many people who supported the Church as there were those who hated the Church, and some people who wished for the Church to be wiped out, but there were very few who dared to lay their hands on the Archbishop.

The holy knights did not have the gentleman's tradition of being courteous before taking action. They could not allow even the slightest damage to the important figures they were defending. Therefore, any move that the holy knights made would directly kill them, until they could no longer pose a threat to them.

The stranger raised his left hand. His hand was so pale and dry that it looked like a dead man crawling out of a grave. His mouth was mumbling an incantation. The six paladins standing around him were swallowed up by the hexagram before they could even react, leaving only the rose emblem with their chests covered in blood splashing all over the dirty wall.

"All of you, leave." Horace, who usually did not reprimand anyone else, let out an unprecedented bellow. The Holy Knight, who was about to charge forward, stopped in his tracks. Hoyos straightened his robes and got out of the carriage. He stood on the muddy road, not caring if the luxurious robes on the ground were dirty or not.

"The Holy Knights use their lives to protect the honor and dignity of the Empire, but they don't commit such foolish, senseless acts of suicide."

The stranger in the cloak took off his hat, revealing a strange black bird-beak mask. Combined with the dark red blood that splattered all around him and the dilapidated building, he was like a reaper from hell, only missing a symbolic scythe.

Ignoring the mockery of the stranger, a dark, mean face and the name that had once been the shadow of his childhood appeared in the mind of the knowledgeable Hoyos as soon as he saw the mask.

"Plague Apostle?"

Hoyes carefully probed, but in his heart he was silently chanting the most complicated incantation. If the assassin in front of him was really the culprit behind the black plague that had claimed the lives of millions of Dermanians thirty years ago, it would be difficult for him, the Arch-Cardinal, to contend against.

Hoyos was also wondering why the apostle who had been warned by the gods that he could never enter Ionia would suddenly appear in the capital of the Durman Empire.

The stranger was in no hurry to admit his identity, but said mockingly, "My dear Archbishop Hoyes, don't think that I don't know what you are planning. Do you want to call for help from the winged Birds of Heaven, or leave these pitiful worms behind to escape alone?"

The moment those words were spoken, the light under the cloak swelled up, and an orange hexagram, even larger than before, covered the entire street in an instant. The place where the runes were moving, the bricks and stones melted, and the Holy Knights were instantly swallowed up by the magic formation.

"Orloff Formation, how could that be? Those black magic infidels were all exterminated a hundred years ago, so why would anyone use such a formation?" The struggling bishop, Hoyos, showed fear in his eyes. It was even deeper than the fear he felt when he first faced the gigantic Leviathan from the Abyss.

The stranger did not have the mood to pity the lost lamb. He used his hand to draw an overlapping triangular formation, and the formation that had already spread to the entire street instantly shrunk to the feet of Hoyos. The skin of the poor archbishop's entire body was quickly burnt black as if it was burnt by charcoal, and the scepter in his hand along with the ruby on it also turned into ashes.

The stranger looked at his masterpiece with satisfaction. He picked up the only holy cross that had not been melted by him, looked at the bishop's corpse that was blown away by the wind, and said, "The plague apostle? The name of our master is not something a little bishop like you can call me. "

He glanced at the end of the long street, the corners of his mouth forming a distinct curve. "Dear little Si Bol and damned Mrs. Carlyle, I hope you won't be frightened by my abrupt visit. A dark and gloomy meditation can't grant you the power to look down on everything, but I can."