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

Broca unconsciously blended into the atmosphere. As the mounted police passed by her, she humbly lowered her head like an ordinary citizen, only slowly raising it after the imposing shadow they cast had faded, watching their backs as they headed east.

Broca stopped walking into the civilian district.

She thought she already knew the answer.

The moment the mounted police passed by, she saw on the faces of these ordinary citizens of Lentinium a respect no less than that for a god, or rather, a reverence!

The citizens revered the gods and feared their punishment, but they did not respect the gods because they knew that the punishment would be revealed after death, while they lived in the present.

Terra has never been a peaceful and tranquil paradise. Natural disasters, Originium, Infected, Oripathy, and endless wars relentlessly devour life on this land. Therefore, people fear this world and turn to the gods for happiness and well-being after death, seeking a stable afterlife. This is the reason for the rise of Laterano religion.

But no matter how much they fear, people on earth ultimately live in reality. No matter how chaotic and dangerous this land may be, countless people pray for nothing more than a chance to sleep peacefully. And this chance cannot be obtained through mere verbal comfort from the church.

What they need is strength, the strength to protect themselves in a world fraught with danger. This strength was once manifested as tribes, then as mobile cities, and now as nations!

The Catholic Church, with its lofty ideals, views the Anglican Communion's distribution of breakfast as a shameful means of winning people over, failing to consider that countless poor people's lifelong pursuit is simply a reliable glass of milk and a piece of bread for breakfast. The Church adheres to strict rituals, regarding the Anglican Communion's overly simplified ceremonies as disrespectful to God, unaware that countless people come to church during their leisure time amidst the struggles of life, seeking solace for their souls. Meeting their needs is the true obligation of the Vatican.

Respect comes from the people. Only when the people are well-fed, at ease, and can sleep soundly can the power structure represented by the church be stable.

But the Catholic Church has forgotten this point. It hopes to strengthen the faith by binding believers and to coerce respect through threats, which will only backfire.

She suddenly realized what that flash of inspiration she had in the store really was.

"God, the church, and people form a complete industrial chain. God is the supplier of goods, providing comfort to people. The church is the middleman, selling peace of mind to all the people of Terra by gathering believers and training pastors. People are the customers, paying with their money, treasures, and other external things to buy the comfort produced by God from the church."

"But the Lateran Catholic Church, being a large and powerful institution, has been taking advantage of its customers, inflating the value of God's products. Even the Pope, who is the head of the church, has begun to imitate God's authority and sell counterfeit forgiveness such as indulgences. If this continues, if there is only one church, believers will slowly leave. Once a second church appears, like the Anglican Church, the exploited people will immediately abandon it."

"This is why the Lateran Catholic Church suffered such a crushing defeat in Victoria!"

The nun understood everything. She turned and hurried towards St. John's Abbey. She needed to return immediately, write down everything in a letter, and deliver it to His Holiness the Pope of Laterano as quickly as possible, while there was still time...

"..."

The main entrance of St. John's Cathedral.

Broca saw the Royal Canadian Mounted Police again.

They gathered outside the main entrance of the church. The lead mounted policeman took out a parchment stamped with Lateran wax from his pocket, slowly unfolded it, and affixed it to the door of St. John's Cathedral. The words on it were written in three languages: Lateran, Victorian, and Old Latin.

“Sister Broca disregarded the Lateran Catholic Church’s upbringing and committed apostasy and dishonor to God.”

"Here comes the punishment of extermination!"

"Pope Peter XI".

The vegetable basket fell to the ground.

Chapter Thirty-Three: Three Questions

"Sister."

Indra bent down, patted Broca's shoulder as he squatted beside the cathedral, and called out softly.

Broca, still half-asleep, raised his head and noticed the worry flickering in Indra's eyes. He forced a smile.

"I am no longer a nun."

She shook her head.

"St. John's Cathedral is now officially closed. If you want to pray... go to the Anglican Church across the street."

"What's the reason this time?"

Indra frowned and said,

"Last time, it was because the Anglican Church offered free breakfast, while you didn't. What about this time? The Anglican Church doesn't offer late-night snacks."

Broca instinctively replied, "Because the Catholic Church no longer exists."

But Indra frowned and said:

Do you think that people must get permission from the church to confess to God?

Broca paused, looked up, and his face, streaked with tears, was filled with disbelief.

But Indra didn't say much, he simply took her hand and stood up, saying:

"Let's go, my boss wants to see you."

Broca hesitated for a few seconds, then nodded.

.........

Villa Vine, on the outskirts of Lentinium, 1:00 am.

The villa in the suburbs was exceptionally quiet. If it weren't for the fact that a light was left on for visitors, perhaps no one would have discovered this mansion hidden in the forest.

Indra's escort only went as far as the gate, seemingly unaware of what was happening inside. After knocking on the door for Broca, she stepped aside and gave Broca an encouraging look.

Broca hesitated for a second time.

Intuition told her that if she pushed open this door, she would see some incredible truths and facts that might shake her faith, her beliefs, and even her will to live.

But she still took that step.

Having crossed the threshold symbolizing her past life, Broca knew the road ahead was long, and that rhetorical question she had just uttered was not something a boor like Indra could casually come up with. He had almost struck at Broca's current anxieties, something she didn't want to face but would have to face sooner or later.

She needed to see what kind of answer this person, who could pinpoint the problem that had been troubling her so much, could give.

Inside the door, Wayne nodded to Vina and patted his chest.

"Leave this to me."

He is conveying this meaning

Vina understood, but she glared fiercely at Wayne and had no intention of getting up and leaving.

That scoundrel Wayne. First, he tricked and toyed with Sister Xiao, leaving her heartbroken and disoriented. Then, when she was at her most vulnerable, he deliberately chose a late night to call her to this suburban mansion that even Vina didn't know about. Now that I've discovered him, he's patting his chest and saying, "Move aside, let me handle this."

What did I send you here for?

If I hadn't been here watching you, you would have done something tonight that would have violated the royal family's morals and dishonored Aslan's noble bloodline!

Vina didn't ask much of Vian. ​​You could steal, you could rob, and you could even do nothing and just be a prince and have fun. But you couldn't steal women, you couldn't rob women, and you absolutely couldn't use your intelligence to play around with women!

Vina knew very well how dangerous her brother was to women—intelligent, handsome, of noble blood, approachable, and meticulous.

She knows it very well!

Because she herself was one of those who fell into the trap!

Thankfully, she regained consciousness early. To ensure the young maidens of Lontinim wouldn't be violated by villains that night, she had to keep an eye on Vayne, that wicked lion. This was her mission as queen!

Completely unaware of what Vina was thinking with her blushing face, Wayne only heard the soft sound of the door closing at the entrance, followed by footsteps rushing towards the living room behind the entryway.

Now it's impossible to hide it anymore.

Wayne shrugged helplessly, took a deep breath, and sat up straight, looking towards the entrance to the living room.

Broca's figure soon came into view.

Unlike her radiant appearance in the intelligence photos, Broca looked somewhat haggard. The lingering tear stains and slightly swollen eyes made her appear fragile, and the faint wrinkles around her brows and the occasional look of confusion and helplessness on her face evoked a strong urge to hold her close and comfort her. Felin's innate fragility, combined with the sanctity of a papal nun and a touch of pitifulness, was as addictive as a poppy.

Before Wayne could react, Vina suddenly coughed loudly twice, shook her head violently, and blushed inexplicably. The ball of her tail smacked Wayne's feet in dissatisfaction.

Hmm, that's too dangerous!

These women, these filmmakers—even I almost lost my composure; they're just too dangerous!

No wonder so many nobles and royalty like to keep cats. If those kittens are so cute, how much more so a big cat like Broca?

She could already picture Wayne stroking Broca until he was bald, that kind of thing...

Let's leave it to her.

Wayne gave him a bewildered look.

Vina responded with a red-faced glare.

Hmm, something's wrong with my sister!

I've heard that lionesses are very strong in that area. Is she just lusting after me?

Wayne was lost in thought. Anyway, imagination doesn't cost anything; whether Vina was attracted to her or not wasn't important, what mattered was that he was attracted to Vina.

But now is the time to get down to business. We need to take things one step at a time and solve this problem first.

He looked up at Broca, meeting the nun's bewildered and confused gaze, and said:

"The fact that you're here shows that you have this potential. I know you have many questions you want to ask, and I will answer them for you, as long as you answer these three questions."

Broca frowned, then nodded.

Do you think that people must get permission from the church to pray to God?

Do you believe that God must obtain the church's consent to redeem people?

"Based on your answer, what do you think is the meaning of the church's existence?"

This is the final test.

The test is whether Miss Broca is Terra's Martin Luther or just an ordinary martyr.

Wayne pressed down on the ninety-five thesis, which currently contained only fifty points, lying on his lap, and quietly awaited the answer.

Broca fell silent.

Chapter Thirty-Four: The Church is a Tool!

Broca fell silent.

Do you think that people must get permission from the church to pray to God?

Not necessarily.

The church is merely an intermediary between believers and God, existing solely on God's prestige and the believers' trust. If people need the church's permission to pray to God, then God becomes an appendage of the church, an object to be exploited at will. This is putting the cart before the horse.

The second question is similar: if God needs the church's consent to redeem people, does that mean the church has the power to decide who goes to heaven and who goes to hell?

This is absurd, because the church has neither divine power nor has it ever seen heaven, so it is clearly incapable of doing everything that should be done by God.

What about the third question?

Wayne's gaze was deep. The first two questions might just be shadows; there was only one real question, and that was the third one!