When the Saint comes, she does not collect food

Chapter 513 Holy Oil and Divine Magic

After finishing the trivial matters in the Holy Visitation Hall, Horn rested for ten minutes and then set off again for the Lubyanka Monastery.

After more than half a year of research, the Chekas finally succeeded in developing the first batch of holy oil.

Sitting in the carriage, Horn watched the wall of the Lubyanka Monastery on the mound getting closer and closer. The few Holy Gun Cavalrymen next to him were so nervous that they could not speak.

Horn couldn't help but laugh. In the eyes of most people in Zhen'Arc, Lubyanka was obviously demonized.

"Your Majesty." René saluted meticulously as Horn got off the car. "Please follow me."

"What is the quality of the holy oil produced?"

"It's very strange. I'll take you to see it and you'll understand." Regarding the issue of the Salvation Army's legality, René did not say much.

Whether intentionally or unintentionally, René led Horn and his party for a walk in the courtyard garden of the monastery.

Following René into the attic, there were several large pots and a table with copper alchemical utensils.

There were two large boxes on the ground, filled with jars of holy oil.

The process of making these holy oils is very simple, just pour a lump of holy oil into holy water and then chant to it every day.

After one or two months, the holy water will gradually become gelatinous, and then a layer of solidified white oil will condense on the water surface.

By mixing these white oils and herbs, you can make the key item for all divine arts and blessings - holy oil.

Horn once suspected that the holy oil was the source of divine energy, but he had no evidence to prove it.

As for the source of divine energy, not only Horn, but all the monks had no idea.

They know what it is but not why. They just need to refer to the book, apply the holy oil, and perform the ceremony to use the blessing.

The special thing about this extraordinary power is that there is almost no physical sensation.

For example, witches can intuitively sense the existence of magic power and use it to form spells.

For example, knights could clearly feel the rhythm of their muscles and breathing, which allowed them to develop countless extraordinary martial arts.

But the monks can't do that. Most of their divine blessings are obtained through exhaustive enumeration.

They rely on rote rituals and recitations, never have any intuitive feelings, and naturally cannot invent or innovate.

The holy light and echo in the scriptures can only be imagined by oneself.

What Horn found most absurd was that these monks needed almost no training to transform from mortals to extraordinary ones.

Wizards need to meditate, knights need to exercise, and monks don't even need to drink potions.

After entering a monastery, reciting scriptures every day for seven or eight years, and practicing and becoming familiar with the rituals, they can use the blessing.

Power grows naturally with proficiency in the ritual and age.

At least breathing techniques require practice, but in a monastery one only needs to rely on reading.

Speaking of reading the Gospels, many priests also read the Gospels every day. There is not much difference between churches and monasteries, but priests cannot use the magic of blessing.

Many devout nobles and fanatics were much more active in reciting and copying the Gospels every day than the monks, but they did not seem to gain the power of blessing.

It's as if there is some kind of identity recognition system that can screen out weird things like Horn.

Horn initially thought that the criteria for judging this "identity recognition system" were faith and piety, but when he thought about what the monks and fellows did, he felt that it was not the case.

After many unsuccessful tests, he finally stopped this waste of material and human resources.

Anyway, the current monasteries can produce monks stably, so it's fine as long as they can be used.

He gave up the study of divine arts for about half a year, until Ludvik mentioned a secret in a casual chat, and then he regained his interest in blessing.

This secret is simple to explain.

If a monk leaves the monastery, even if he maintains the same pious life as before, the power of blessing does not disappear, but it does not increase either.

Therefore, the monks always move around the monastery and never leave it too far, especially those monks who have mastered extraordinary powers. After getting new clues, Horn planned to send people to investigate, secretly conduct characteristic surveys and statistics on monasteries in the country, and even build a monastery to try to train a group of monks himself.

However, he had to first try whether the monastery occupied by this group of "Holy Word heretics" could still be used.
“It works, but it doesn’t.”

"You might as well put it more clearly."

René beckoned over a timid monk who had once been a liturgical priest at the Lubyanka Monastery and was very familiar with the making of holy oil.

"We followed the original method at every step, and the Cheka masters can testify to that." The old monk rubbed his messy hair, "But the holy oil we produced is getting worse and worse. The first two batches were still usable, but the third and fourth batches are almost unusable."

"Take me to see it." Horn started walking towards the big pot.

When I came to the pot, I saw a cross immersed in the water. Several monks were sitting around the pot, chanting something.

There was clearly no fire or heat underneath, but small bubbles continued to come out of the pot.

Looking at the bubbling pot, Horn frowned.

Is it possible that this monastery can really identify who lives inside?

After looking at the cauldron for a long time, Horn checked everywhere but still had no clue. The process was too complicated and he was not sure if it was really as magical as the monks said.

“Let’s go back and investigate the four small monasteries, use the control variable method I mentioned earlier, and find out where the problem lies.”

………………

After visiting the Gulag monastery where holy oils were made, Horn returned to Château d’Arc just in time to catch Catherine’s ship leaving.

Laborers carrying goods came and went in front of the dock, and the night watchmen formed a human wall in front of the plank road.

Standing at the dock, Catherine, who was carrying the special suitcase made for Jeanne d'Arc, turned around and said, "Just send it here. Thank you for taking the time to send it to me."

"You're so formal. It feels like an old man saying goodbye to a child." Horn responded with a smile.

Catherine's smile froze, and she immediately hit back viciously: "After all, I have to look down at you every time, so it's hard not to treat you as a junior."

"...It's no fun if you say that." Horn denied angrily.

In this era, his height of 1.7 meters was not considered short, and was considered tall among ordinary men.

But among this group of witches, except for Shilov, all of them are tall and slender, which makes him look short.

"Okay." Catherine turned her head and looked at the raised sails. "I should go now."

"Everything in Rapids City depends on you." Suppressing his smile, Horn waved goodbye to Catherine who was standing at the end of the plank road.

"Don't worry, I will never let you down." Catherine also waved her hand and turned to walk towards the boat.

But just before Catherine's boots landed on the boat, a sharp sound came from far away.

"Dududu-"

The sharp whistle startled Horn and Catherine at the same time. They looked towards the river and saw a shuttle-shaped boat shuttling back and forth between the barges.

The waves almost capsized the boat several times, but the boat still successfully reached the shore.

A moment later, several pale-faced Salvation Army war monks climbed ashore without taking a rest.

They ran towards the stable, and after running seven or eight steps, someone pointed at Horn and shouted in surprise, "Your Majesty is over there, no need to run."

What's going on? Horn frowned. Could it be that Prince Condé launched an attack?
"What's going on?" Horn walked towards the men, and Catherine followed closely.

The black-clad black-hatted monk straightened his hat and said, "Your Majesty, urgent news has come from Rapid City. Three days ago, the abbot of the Blago Monastery, Ludwick, was assassinated by an unknown person."

"what?!"

Horn's surprised cry and the sound of Catherine's suitcase falling to the ground were heard at the same time.

(End of this chapter)