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

St. John's Cathedral was deserted.

The morning light seemed to have abandoned this century-old church along with the future; even though it was already bright, the church was still shrouded in a faint haze.

After Broca's disappearance, the last nun in the church had also left. A church presided over by a nun deemed morally corrupt and excommunicated, no matter how glorious its past, now appeared utterly desolate. Humans are, after all, creatures with short memories; the scandal unfolding before their eyes was far more intriguing than tales of their ancestors' past wealth. Only occasionally would a few elderly passersby pause before the church, gazing up at the imposing, iron-gray building's majestic dome and exquisite reliefs, letting out a wistful sigh.

In contrast, the Anglican Church was bustling with people, who came to pray and pick up breakfast along the way. Rupert would greet Felin, and Ursus would put his arm around Kuranta. The sacredness of the cross and the mundane atmosphere blended together without seeming to clash, but rather created a pleasant atmosphere.

Some mischievous children even drew a parallel between the burger joint where the yellow sponge works in the latest Columbia animated film and its nemesis, the barrel restaurant, which is truly hilarious.

Most of the priests in the Anglican Church were former Catholic priests, many of whom were clergy from St. John's Cathedral. No one knew Broca better than them. Therefore, their first reaction to the unwarranted excommunication from the Lateran Papal Palace was one of rejection!

Everyone understood the symbolic meaning of the excommunication, but they could never accept the idea that Broca, with whom they had spent so much time, was a morally corrupt man unworthy of God's salvation and only fit to associate with Satan.

But what can be done?

The reason the Pope is the Pope is because he holds the power of the head of a church, and his power is no less than that of the king or emperor of a secular empire. His excommunication decrees have absolute authority throughout the Lateran Catholic world. They are just minor priests of the Anglican Church of Victoria. What can they do besides vehemently condemn such unfair treatment?

"How about we suggest to the religious affairs office that Broka be admitted to the Anglican Church?"

A wise priest suggested that he was Broca's teacher and her mentor in entering St. John's Cathedral and venturing into Lateran theology. Seeing his student being insulted for no reason, even though he was already in his seventies and could not remain calm and composed, he could not help but feel a surge of anger.

The Lateran Catholic Church and the Pope were corrupt and misjudged people, and they excommunicated Broca. She could have simply left the Lateran Catholic Church and joined the Anglican Church. After all, the Pope was unjust, and no one would have condemned Broca for being unrighteous.

The old priest thought about it more and more and felt that this was a good idea. After discussing it with his colleagues, they all nodded in agreement.

Despite the Lateran Catholic Church's immense power and influence in the religious world, in Victoria, even dragons must coil and tigers must lie low. Her Majesty the new Queen has made no secret of her intention to suppress the Lateran. Countless monasteries, considered the so-called earthly domain of God, have been demolished recently for being deemed illegal structures without the approval of the Londinium City Hall. If the Lateran doesn't want Broca, the Anglican Church will naturally take her in.

The treatment is much better; haven't you noticed how much weight the old priest has gained lately?

The priests quickly reached an agreement. One of them stayed behind to watch over the church, while the others all picked up their pens and wrote a petition together. They signed it, stamped it, and pressed their fingerprints on it, much like the sworn brothers of Liangshan. They then hurried off to the city hall in the heart of Londinium with the petition in hand.

.......

Lentinium City Hall, Religious Affairs Office.

Arthur, the municipal official who had been temporarily in charge of the religious office for almost three months, warmly shook Broca's hand, asking about his well-being, with an expression of relief.

This was also his true thought. As Ernest's number two, after Wayne officially began to act as the shadow emperor and build the shadow empire, he was regarded as the most likely leader in the civil service and was recommended for the powerful position of Mayor of Londinium.

Little did he know that before he could even get used to his new position as a municipal official, he was transferred to the religious affairs office and concurrently served as its director.

At first, he was quite happy, thinking that an extra position meant more power, and that Ernest and Lord Wayne had entrusted him with this task as a great responsibility. But one day, when a large group of priests from Lateran Church defected to the Anglican Church, competing with him for the position of chief priest in a church, spouting doctrines he couldn't understand a word of, he realized that Wayne and Ernest probably didn't trust him, but simply wanted to find a scapegoat.

I'm just a secretary in the army. I'm neither religious nor do I worship any gods. If I were to worship anyone, it would be before a battle, when I would sacrifice a chicken to appease the flag. I really don't understand what you mean by any of those so-called gods or anything like that!

It's not that I'm being modest, but no matter how much power this position has, I don't want to do it anymore. You should find someone more suitable.

If Wayne hadn't brought Broca along, Arthur would probably have resigned soon anyway. But now, this "brilliant" person had finally appeared before him, and he couldn't be happier!

"Patriarch Broca, congratulations! Congratulations on gaining that esteemed person's favor. As a pastor of the Lateran Catholic Church, you are the first!"

Broca shook his head, somewhat overwhelmed by Arthur's enthusiasm, and simply waved his hand, saying:

"No, no, Lord Arthur, please don't cry!"

Arthur: "('╥ω╥`). You're so young and accomplished. When I was your age, I was still planting rice seedlings in the paddy fields. If I hadn't joined the army because I couldn't afford to eat, I wouldn't be where I am today. More than 20 years have passed in the blink of an eye."

As he spoke, Arthur stroked his beard again, reminiscing about the past.

Broca smiled helplessly and couldn't help but interrupt:

"Lord Arthur, I've come to see you today because..."

"Oh, I know, so it's to borrow the mounted police force, right? His Highness Wayne gave me a heads-up. This time, we must return in triumph, nailing that manifesto to the very place where you left such a humiliation, letting those guys with fluorescent lights know that it's none of their business what happens to us Victorians, and it's none of their business to judge our likes and dislikes! Since they dare to cross half of Terra and stick their faces in front of the Victorians, then give them a good beating, a really good beating!"

He turned and walked back to his desk, rummaged through the pile of documents for a while, then suddenly slapped his forehead and said:

"I forgot, this is the religious affairs office. The temporary transfer documents are in the municipal official's office. Wait a moment, I'll go get them right away."

After saying that, he jogged away from the religious affairs office.

Broca sighed, both amused and exasperated.

I feel like I've inherited a mess.

But it doesn't matter, this is to properly convey God's goodwill to people's hearts again, a little hardship and fatigue are nothing!

Broca clenched his fists to encourage himself, glanced at his personal desk and chair behind the office desk, twitched his little ears, and wagged his tail.

So I'll be sitting there working from now on, right? It looks so impressive. There's absolutely no place like that in St. John's Cathedral. To keep the church running smoothly, she even sold off a lot of her departed colleagues' beds, let alone this kind of executive chair made of high-grade wood covered with animal hides and exuding a faint sandalwood fragrance.

Now, it's okay to sit down and get familiar with things a little... right?

Brock pursed his lips, blinked, and cautiously walked towards the office chair.

He reached out and touched the armrest of the office chair...

"Lord Arthur! Please forgive my intrusion, but I have an important matter to request of you!"

The old priest slammed open the office door and shouted, holding up the petition in his hand.

"Alas!"

Broca was so frightened that he trembled all over, his ears, tail, and whole body sprang up, looking just like a startled white-faced owl.

"Broca, what are you doing here?"

Before she could even react, the old priest spoke first, his voice full of doubt, but then he clapped his hands in sudden realization.

"You're here to apply to join the Anglican Church, right? Great, that saves us the trouble of looking for you. Let me tell you, we all believe you're not some wicked person who's committed some unforgivable crime. Lateran's excommunication doesn't apply to Anglican priests; we don't recognize that stuff! So, listen to your teacher, let's not put up with that. Come on, let's go find Mayor Arthur. This is a petition signed by a few of us old guys, and I'm going to convince him to let you join the Anglican Church today, no matter what. Let's rebuild the new St. John's Cathedral together!"

Broca opened his mouth but couldn't say anything, and his eyes suddenly welled up with tears.

She was deeply moved that even when the believers she helped, the shop owners who joked with her, and even the entire Lateran Catholic world distrusted her, there were still people who believed in her!

Whether it was His Highness Wayne and Her Majesty Vina who placed high hopes on her and promoted her to Patriarch, or Mayor Arthur who constantly encouraged her and paved the way for her, or these elderly priests who, despite the risk of dishonoring their reputations, chose to believe in her and did not hesitate to petition Mayor Arthur.

This land may be cruel, but it has never lacked warmth.

She vowed to complete this hard-won task well and never let down anyone who had placed their hopes in her!

"Ok!"

She nodded heavily, and the last trace of lingering affection she had for the Lateran Church vanished.

The god she worships is one who gives warmth, and now it is the Anglican Church that is giving her that warmth, not Lateran!

"I will join, teacher. Please go back first. Mayor Arthur is a good person, and I will earn her approval through my own abilities!"

The old priest paused, a helpless yet gratified smile spreading across his lips.

“You’ve grown up, Broca.”

He patted Sister Felin on the shoulder and nodded:

"I'll be waiting for you to come back at New St. John's!"

“I will!” Broca assured him, “and I will return in a way that will surprise you!”

She clutched her priest's robe tightly to her chest, where the parchment, rolled up like a scroll, was now completely full.

"Let's use this to expose the true nature of that church that's been manipulated by demons!"

That's what she thought.

Chapter Thirty-Six: This young lady has your back!

Wayne sat on the sofa, tuned the TV to the news, and waited for the second act of the annual drama, "Expellation from the Church," to begin at the main entrance of St. John's Cathedral. At the same time, he took out his phone and started chatting in the classmate group.

As the heart of Victoria, Londinium boasts Victoria's most prestigious education system, most notably the Royal Academy of Victoria, renowned throughout Terra. The Royal Academy is actually a collective term encompassing five colleges: the Royal Guard, the Royal Mounted Police, the Royal Military, the Royal Ceremonies, and the Royal Research Academy. These represent the five major fields of military, police, military, noble, and scientific research. Students here are all exceptional talents; those who graduate successfully can generally secure a good job anywhere in Terra. Furthermore, outstanding graduates of the Royal Guard can directly enter the army as officers or become bodyguards for political figures; graduates of the Military Academy can join the General Staff and have the opportunity to meet Marshal Ernest; and graduates of the Research Academy can even enter the Royal Research Institute as interns, working as assistants to renowned scientists, and ultimately becoming full-fledged researchers.

Of course, Wayne didn't attend school. As royalty, especially the only son of the King of the North, his safety was paramount, so he was usually taught by specially appointed professors who went directly to the palace. But that didn't stop him from having his name listed at the Royal Academy and getting a diploma—though the headmaster considered it unnecessary.

It was already time for school to end, and the chat group was bustling with activity. Wayne had naturally joined the chat group of Swire, Chen, and Bagpipe's Royal Guard Academy—he had a name registered at the Royal Mounted Police Academy, and there was an empty desk reserved for him in Chen's class, but he always claimed to be unwell and had never actually shown his face in class.

Miss Swire seems to be in a good mood today. As soon as she arrived at the restaurant, she sent a message in the group chat to call on others:

Let's go out for barbecue tonight!

Unfortunately, no one replied to her.

Everyone knew the extravagant spending habits of this Swire family heiress; going out for barbecue with her might mean spending the rest of your life washing dishes in a restaurant. They all knew that Swire was definitely going to have more to say.

As expected, seeing no one respond in the group chat, Swire, sitting in the extended Lincoln armored limousine, pouted angrily and continued typing on her phone, which was covered by a cartoon tiger phone case:

"My treat!"

Wuhu!

"take off!"

"take off!"

"Takeoff" (+1)

Swire covered his forehead in exasperation, thinking to himself that these people were really too frugal. It was just a meal, a few tens of thousands of Lungmen dollars, was it really necessary to be so extravagant?

It's less than a fraction of her monthly allowance.

Seeing Swire's generous attitude flooding the group chat again, Swire couldn't help but feel a little smug. For her, being able to spend a little money to improve her relationships with her classmates was simply too good to pass up.

It would be torture for her to dress up like the socialites and socialites she had seen at aristocratic balls and pretend to have a pleasant conversation with people she had never met before!

After watching the scrolling chat for another ten seconds, Swire finally interrupted her enthusiastic classmate. She realized that Chen didn't seem to be online.

"@Chen, Pink Intestine Dragon. Want to come join us? It's on me!"

Poetry excitedly typed that she was waiting for Chen's reply so she could instruct the driver to choose a restaurant and make a reservation.

The chat group paused for a moment, then Chen leisurely replied:

"Don't go."

Swire was taken aback.

"why?"

"Something happened."

"what's up?"

Chen rolled his eyes, thinking to himself, "Why is this 'barbecue cat' so inquisitive?" He rubbed his temples and typed:

"Have some tea."

"......"