Miss Wang Weina, even your cousin won't do!

Secondly, the person is absolutely good and has no flaws.

No one is perfect, nor is anyone absolutely bad. As long as one lives a mediocre life in this world, there will always be flaws. Ruhr had no doubt about the authenticity of the information he had, because it was definitely fake!

The simplest way to argue this is: if a person possesses all seven virtues, what church would she join? What kind of salvation would she yearn for?

She only needs to have a simple faith in God to ascend to heaven through her own virtue; for someone like her, indulgences wouldn't even sell!

"Go back and send someone to thoroughly investigate your informant. He's probably been bribed by Victoria's intelligence agency."

Urbino said calmly.

"Gentlemen, don't you know what kind of priests you have in your own churches? Even if there are good ones among them, how can there be absolutely perfect people? With so many virtues, you still say she's not a mole?"

"By my papal decree, excommunicate Broca the Blasphemer! Make an example of him!"

Chapter Thirty-One: The One Who Completed It

Vina was very curious. For example, almost half a month had passed since Indra's report, and Wayne, who had been saying "Let me handle this matter," seemed to have fallen silent and hadn't done anything.

He ate and drank as usual, and even sent people to hire several chefs from Yan State from the embassy street, saying that he would teach the four major cuisines of Great Yan.

Vina knew Wayne all too well. Her brother was definitely bragging again. The four great cuisines of the Great Yan? Wayne had never been to the Great Yan since he was born. Where was he going to find the four great cuisines of the Great Yan that even the chefs of the Great Yan didn't know about?

Hopefully, those few chefs from Yan Kingdom who seem to have been greatly inspired will wake up soon. Vina has a good impression of them. After all, after they entered the palace and took over the cooking of breakfast, lunch and dinner, Vina's standard of living improved by more than a little. Even her face became rounder and she gained a little weight.

Her figure hasn't changed much, so where did all that fat go?

People in the palace had some complaints about this, seemingly feeling that it was disrespectful for the Victorian royal family to have such a fondness for Yan cuisine and to ignore their own country's delicacies. However, Vina said: "This was my idea, and it has nothing to do with Wayne. If anyone has any objections, come and talk to me."

Just kidding, which audacious nobleman would dare to offer any opinion to Vina? This mistress is no ordinary person; she publicly humiliated the Unicorn Guardians, seized the throne in front of all the nobles, and won over Ernest and a group of nobles in less than a week. She's a cunning and courageous woman who has appeared out of nowhere. Even when the council was in power, none of them would dare to contradict Vina on such a trivial matter, let alone now that the council is gone.

The nobles who readily agreed to the dissolution of the council and the subsequent re-election have now mostly come to their senses. Vina has not specified how long this re-election will take.

The so-called parliament of Victoria is now a mere shell of its former self. Military power is in the hands of Ernest, and political power is in the hands of Vina. In reality, both of these powers are in the hands of Wayne. The centralization of power is complete, and all that is left is for Wayne to give the order to declare himself Grand Protector (but he will not).

In conclusion, Lontinim is currently in a state of harmony, with undercurrents swirling beneath the surface, and no one daring to stir up any waves.

However, Wayne, who should have stirred up the tide, suddenly calmed down and spent his days hiding in his room doing something unknown. Even the pace of religious reform slowed down.

After much deliberation, Vina finally couldn't resist and decided to go check out what new tricks her cousin was up to.

"Please come in."

Mudrock stood at the door of Wayne's room like a guardian deity. Upon seeing Vina's arrival, he slightly stepped aside to help open the door.

Although Wayne discovered her identity, he did not expose Mudrock's disguise. This Sarkaz girl, who once conjured a stone golem and punched Wayne into killing an operator, was somewhat shy. Since she did not take the initiative to tell him, Wayne maintained a simple employer-employee relationship. In any case, Mudrock seemed to be short of money.

Wayne simply raised the price quietly, and successfully tied Mudstone to Victoria.

It is now April 1, 1092 in the Terran calendar. Although it is unknown exactly when the Kazdel Civil War will break out, it is certainly not far from this date. If Wayne delays for a while, Mudrock will be homeless.

Now that he's homeless, Wayne can keep dragging things out.

If we keep delaying and delaying, this will become Mudstone's second home.

Vina gave Mudrock a wary look.

For some reason, she felt a strange threat from this armored "giant." Unlike the urgency of a life-threatening situation, this feeling was more like a lion king's awakened "territorial instinct." It was as if Mudrock standing there guarding Wayne's door was invading some of her private territory.

What's with this feeling? Is it just my imagination?

Vina scratched her fluffy blonde hair, completely baffled.

Strange, why would I feel threatened as a mercenary in Kazdel?

baffling.

Vina suppressed the strange feeling that lingered in her heart and pushed open the door to enter.

Wayne was sitting at the table, holding a skewer of squid instead of afternoon tea in one hand and a pen in the other, slowly writing something on the parchment on the table.

Vina didn't immediately make a sound to disturb him. Instead, she cautiously moved closer to Wayne and peeked her little head at the parchment on the table covered with writing.

"First: When our Lord says, 'You should repent,' He means that believers should repent throughout their lives."

"Second: This statement does not refer to confession, that is, the confession and atonement performed by priests."

...?

What does this say?

Vina frowned slightly.

The clauses on the table seemed to be a critique of theology, but Vina herself did not believe in gods, or rather, the fact that she had been living in the working class since she was old enough to understand meant that she had little opportunity to come into contact with these supernatural things.

Only the rich worry about what happens after death; the wealth they've amassed is like a red-hot iron, forcing them to flee to the embrace of the gods and beg for forgiveness. The poor, on the other hand, often go hungry, and they have many gods, including but not limited to those who feed them when they're hungry, give them water when they're thirsty, shelter them from the rain, and keep them company when they're lonely...

The God of the poor is one another’s good deeds, but not forgiveness after death.

Vina hadn't experienced extreme poverty because she hadn't fallen to the bottom of society; she wasn't infected. But she also knew that she, who hadn't even been able to afford an indulgence, had no right to believe in a god.

To paraphrase a joke from Wayne's past life: Buddha doesn't save the poor.

Wayne looked up, put down his pen, pinched Vina's cheek to wake her from her reverie, and asked:

"Can you understand it?"

Vina shook her head, but quickly nodded again:

"I can understand it."

"What did you understand?"

"Article 36: Every Catholic believer, as long as they feel they have sincerely repented, can also receive forgiveness or complete exemption from punishment. Is this what you mean by justification by faith?"

Wayne nodded and added with a smile:

"Yes, this is called the Ninety-Five Theses."

Vina tilted her head, pulled away from Wayne's hand that was kneading her ear, and asked:

"But there are only fifty?"

"Someone will help us fill in the gaps."

"Who is it?"

Who is it?

Wayne paused, stood up, and, with their eyes meeting, threw the question back to Vina.

Vina blushed inexplicably, hurriedly glancing around to make sure no one was around before letting out a sigh of relief. She slowly sat down on the sofa, revealing her fangs, and looked at Wayne with a more coquettish expression than a threat, replying:

"Which Sister Broca?"

Wayne shook his head, pressed his hand on Vina's shoulder, leaned close to her face, and said in a serious tone:

"All of Terra".

Just as a single spark can start a prairie fire, the fire of the Reformation, even if it is just a small flame, is enough to burn down the entire forest of Catholic churches!

Chapter Thirty-Two: I Gradually Understood Everything

Lentinium East, Crossroads Supermarket, 8:00 am

Broca had already hung a sign on the church door indicating that he was going out early, so as not to keep the believers waiting. He had gone to the Crossroads supermarket to buy the daily necessities the church would need for the next few days.

The number of people at St. John's Cathedral is decreasing, not only among the believers but also among the priests. Originally, there were ten priests, including Broca, and the nuns lived in the church. However, as the church declined and funds became increasingly scarce, eight more priests have chosen to leave the church.

Some of them joined the Anglican Church, which seemed like a good place. Broca, who truly understood the Anglican Church, knew very well that this new church was not as sinful and blasphemous as the rumors portrayed it. They were also leading people towards goodness, just in a more secular way. The priests who had left St. John's Church also found positions in the Anglican Church and were now active as missionaries. It seemed that because the Anglican Church adhered to the principle of high salaries to encourage integrity, their lives seemed even more comfortable than before.

Of course, some also chose to travel to other countries and regions on Terra to spread God's ideas, and Broca sincerely wished them a safe journey.

But none of that mattered to her anymore. Now, only she and a young nun who had grown up in the church remained in the vast St. John's Cathedral. Although there were few people, she had no intention of abandoning the church. Even if it took more effort, she planned to maintain all the church's functions without any problems.

After selecting fresh and easy-to-store vegetables, Broca walked to the cashier, sporting his usual friendly smile, and placed the chosen items on the counter, waiting for the cashier to settle the payment.

Since they were all acquaintances, Broca casually asked in a friendly manner:

How's business lately?

The boss, a middle-aged man in his forties named Rupert, nodded upon hearing this.

"Business is pretty good here, but..."

She looked worried and asked:

"Nun, I heard you're having a hard time?"

Broca was slightly taken aback, not expecting the ball to be passed to him. He smiled helplessly, but didn't nod, saying ambiguously:

"Not too good, but not too bad either."

To everyone's surprise, the proprietress only gave him a "I don't believe you" look, shook her head, and sighed:

"Not too bad? Do you think I don't know? Your business has been completely snatched away by the Holy Duke Sect next door!"

Broca gave a wry smile, wanting to explain that accepting the prayers and confessions of believers was the Vatican's duty, not a business, but then he thought that perhaps for someone of the landlady's age, it was a business.

The believers are the guests, and the church is the shop. The believers enter the church with troubles and regrets, place the peace of mind they want to buy on the counter, and wait for the priests and nuns to settle and resolve their concerns one by one. What they gain is a sense of comfort, and the prayer money they pay is naturally the price of the goods.

This is another way of understanding the church.

Broca smiled slightly and nodded, but a flash of inspiration struck him the next moment.

However, time was too short, and the inspiration vanished in an instant. She was unable to grasp the key to the problem, and simply frowned, greeted the proprietress, and walked out of the shop.

Behind me came the landlady's worried advice:

"If that doesn't work, why don't you join the Anglican Church? I think the pastors there are just the same as your church's pastors, it's just a different name, what's the big deal?"

Broca frowned, carrying his shopping basket, but instead of immediately returning to St. John's Church, he wandered around the bustling downtown area of ​​Lentinium.

The proprietress's words were not without reason. Both the Anglican Church and the Catholic Church are doing the same thing: guiding people towards good. But why is the Anglican Church now as powerful as a tiger, while the Catholic Church, which should be a behemoth and unshakable entity, is declining and on the verge of collapse?

Are mere changes to a few red tapes and the lure of petty gains enough to make devout believers abandon their orthodox faith and join heresy?

What exactly is the secular world?

With this in mind, Broca stepped into the working-class neighborhood, where humanity was most evident.

However, she hadn't taken two steps when she was interrupted by a commotion beside her. Turning around, she saw a whole column of Royal Victoria Mounted Police. These professionally trained officers were the police force covering all areas outside the core of Londinium (the financial district). They were usually scattered throughout the streets and alleys on patrol, and she had never seen them gathered together like this before.

The bustling market fell silent instantly. Laughing children stopped chasing each other, noisy vendors put down their scales, and shopkeepers who had been sitting idly in front of their shops looked up, watching the mounted police slowly pass by with awe, muttering to themselves and their faces filled with undisguised pride. It was as if those dashing mounted policemen on their tall horses were none other than themselves.