In the city of Paliva, the greystone roads were blasted open by the "Holy" spell, revealing black, hard dirt and gravel that stumbled upon the passage of people and hooves of horses. Pen % fun % Pavilion www.biquge.info

The ungoverned city of Paliwa welcomed a band of displaced people from nowhere into the city, pushing their bucket carts into the city, unable to stop them by the weak Pagan Provisional Guard, which spun around on the rubble and black mud - some simply crashed into the gravel slabs, and the whole bucket truck fell apart.

People pointed at these strangers, but they did not dare to stop them from approaching.

First, because the crumbling carts were endless, and in a short time they were piled up on the avenue of atonement, and everywhere there were black rut marks that had been run over by the wheels, dense like spider webs, and secondly, they were filled with burning sticks, and the bodies were stuffed with black, thick sticks, which were not covered with straw, and some of them rolled to the ground, and the roads were piled with sticks like black hams.

The men pulling the carts, calling themselves "apostates," swaggered down the Avenue of Atonement, breaking into the Place de la Saint-Louisette - no one could stop them.

They began to anoint the blackened end of the stick, then lit it and threw torches at the statues of the saints erected along the road.

Saint Calvin, Saint Raphael, Saint Sawyer, Saint Yuri...... Their faces and bodies, either merciful or serious, were covered with black scratches that looked like tears and dirt, as if these people who had ascended to heaven had been pulled into the mud and wept bitterly.

The people screamed, and they had only wiped and prayed to the icons the other day, and had promised them a good harvest this year, a few more wild boars this year, a wife to give birth this year, and no more sickness this year...... Now those wishes have been burned away.

Perhaps war, famine, and disease will come with the wrath of these saints.

But these strange "traitors" knew how to bribe people's hearts, and they not only threw burning sticks, but they also gave out silver coins.

A white, full-colored silver coin! A silver coin that blows with a trilling sound! Equivalent to a hundred copper coins!

Anyone who watches a saint burned from beginning to end will be given a silver coin, and anyone who dares to throw a burning stick at the statue will be given three silver coins!

So, the people trembled, but did not want to leave, and some of the bold people prayed, while closing their eyes, picked up the sticks, lit them and threw them at the statue!

As a result, the whole city of Paliwa was caught in a wave of frightening and excited shouts all day and night.

"Oh my God, merciful Lord!"

"Throw it on time! Aim for that white boobs!That's right...... Brother, it's easy to make money!"

"Aim for his crotch!"

"Wow!

Breaking the precepts is addictive, and when people tremble and destroy what they used to worship, they find that calamity has not befallen them, and that no miracles have been manifested, and the stimulus of money excites their nerves, and there is an indescribable sense of wonder in smashing everything high above them with their own hands.

Let them look down on the world! Let them put on a compassionate face! They won't do anything! Give them all the money to a few plasters!

"Blasphemer" is how he shouted.

And so the whole city fell into a frenzy, from the Avenue of Atonement, to the Poppy Path, to the countless paths that crisscrossed it, and the people fell into revelry, day and night, either carrying torches or spending their earned money in taverns and casinos, venting their wonderful emotions of excitement and fear.

The feast in the city of Paliwa lasted for three days, until on the third day, when Catalarsen appeared in the Piazza della Signoria.

At this time, there were no vassals, no garrisons, no priests, no judges, no kings and envoys from other city-states, so naturally no one discussed the legitimacy of the young man's inheritance of the city-state.

So, naturally, the former seminarian became the new lord of the people.

The young lord of the castle was dressed in a dark green robe, smooth satin made of silk, embroidered with dark gold piping patterns, and a scorpion badge at the neckline, which looked solemn and restrained. In his left hand, he held the family staff "Attachment Myelin Worm", which was faintly scorched and black, and in his right hand, he held the long sword "Quenching Poison", the blade of which reflected a cold light.

With his high cheekbones, green eyes sunken into their sockets, and pale skin, he was handsome but overly gloomy. Behind him, an old man in a white robe and a group of people in coarse gray robes stood. There was also an excessively pretty young courtier dressed in white satin and trimmed with gold—a man who did not look like the upright and unpretentious Larson family.

When the new lord appeared, the people of the deep valley who were throwing burning sticks everywhere and pretending to be "traitors", as well as the freedmen who were still in a strange frenzy, all stopped and gathered in the Lord's Square.

"The Larsons have been guarding the city of Paliwa for fourteen hundred and sixty-three years, even longer than the Stanley family has been in power. The lord's deep voice echoed throughout the square.

"The people of the territory have multiplied here for generations, and it is the honor of the Larson family to protect your rights, protect your property, and guard your lives, and live with you!"

One or two freemen habitually cheered, and when they saw the glances made at them, they stopped shuffling.

"Today, I want to reveal to you the fact that a long-concealed and deeply culpable secret of the Larson family will now be exposed to the light of day!"

The grim-faced heir raised his staff, and a green mist lingered from around the "meelin" and floated into the sky, a symbol of the lord's power and power. The freedmen were silent, and the mob disguised as the people of the deep valley shouted loudly. The true "Apocalypse" looked up, and Odin, who controlled everything, smiled beside the new lord.

"Please come with me. Katralson waved the "Worm", and the pale green poisonous mist pulled a long ribbon in the sky, like a fluttering flag, and then swayed in the wind.

Then the lord turned and walked towards the mansion - the freedmen were pushed and shoved by the disguised outcasts of the Valley City beside them, and walked forward, whispering in their voices, excited and scared, not knowing what they were about to face.

At the very least, in the old days, no one dared to enter the lord's mansion - this was the core of the city's power, a place that only the nobility was qualified to set foot in, and ordinary people could only watch from afar on the days of worship, but now they had to walk on this marble road step by step!

To their astonishment, the mansion was not as expensive as they had imagined, with no lacquered furniture, velvet carpets, gilt spiral staircases, and frighteningly intricate carved decorations—just empty spaces of stately stone pillars and towering walls, not even the vassals' residences in which they now lived.

The lord stood before them at this time, not much taller than them—a haggard, stern face, a living man with a tragic fate, not as unattainable as he had been.

He raised his long sword to show his family's authority, and his voice was cold and majestic: "Now, you see everything in front of you clearly and believe in the truth. ”

Then he lifted a piece of marble in the middle of the corridor, and under the slab was an ebony mechanism, locked with a brass lock—and when the axle of the mechanism was struck, all one could see was darkness, and a cold air rushed up, and it was terrifying, as if it were the legendary underworld.