Women only affect my ability to spread the fire

In Walter's view, there was no doubt that Conrad had messed up.

Walter knew clearly that Conrad coveted his sister Eleanor, but Walter did not agree with it.

In Walter's view, Conrad was extremely stupid for ruining a political event for a woman, even if it was his own sister.

Walter felt that he and his father had a tacit understanding. Both he and his father supported a more utilitarian marriage, and believed that the royal family should not be trapped by bloodline.

For Walter, marrying Cecilia, the adopted daughter of Archbishop Cluny, or a daughter of the Walhausen family would be much more cost-effective than marrying Eleanor.

However, it was naturally a good thing for Walter that Conrad messed things up. Otherwise, why would his father think of him?

Therefore, Walter uttered the name Russell with the grace of a winner and in a boastful tone.

However, upon hearing Russell's name, the beast in Conrad's heart, which he had forcibly suppressed, awakened once again.

Conrad's eyes were filled with anger when he thought of Eleanor snuggling in Russell's arms, whispering "Master", and when he thought of witnessing Eleanor swallowing a white pill with his own eyes.

Conrad felt like there was a fire burning in his chest, and his lungs were tightening, making it difficult for him to breathe.

His cheeks were flushed and he was breathing heavily. He felt his blood boiling, and then the string of reason in his brain completely broke.

Conrad swung a punch and hit the right eye socket of Walter who was caught off guard.

Walter didn't expect Conrad to take action at this time. He was knocked out by a punch and didn't even understand what was happening while flying in the air.

It was not until the knights he brought with him hurriedly caught him and he felt pain in his right eye that he barely understood what had happened.

Walter was furious, but he remained shrewd. He sneered, "Conrad must have been deeply frightened by the assassination attempt. Someone, take His Highness Conrad to rest!"

Although the knights were inclined towards Prince Walter, no one wanted to bear the crime of killing the Crown Prince. When they heard Walter's order, they breathed a sigh of relief and rushed towards Crown Prince Conrad.

Conrad's eyes were red as he drew the sword from his waist.

The black guard who had been secretly collecting intelligence and was responsible for protecting Crown Prince Conrad was about to step forward to stop this farce, but was suddenly stopped by a masked man.

"Well, let them have a good time bonding with each other. Don't try to interfere. I remember that you Black Guards are just His Majesty Friedrich's eyes. Why don't you witness the playfulness between his sons for your Majesty? It can be considered a kind of family happiness!"

The masked man lowered his voice and spoke in a gruff voice.

The author says:

Author's Note: Thanks to Bloodthirsty Bronze Bull for the tips and coins;

Thanks to reader 1702173899 for the coin;

214 Emperor of the Night

The masked man's appearance was perfectly timed. If the Black Guard representing Friedrich had appeared, the conflict between the brothers Conrad and Walter would have been impossible to continue.

But now that the Black Guard has been stopped, conflict between the brothers is inevitable.

The Black Guard was even more shocked. He had always been very confident in his ability to lurk and investigate. However, not only was he caught by this masked man, he was not even able to detect his existence. It was obvious that there was a huge gap between the two.

"Who are you?" The black guard forced himself to calm down and asked with a frown.

The masked man laughed and said, "Oh? It seems that His Majesty Friedrich is not truly omniscient about his people. It seems that your Majesties are not diligent enough."

"Who are you, sir?" The black guard ignored the masked man's ridicule. He smelled a faint scent of incense and insisted on asking.

"That's right. Perhaps His Majesty Frederick really knows everything about his people. But I am the emperor after all. It is understandable that he doesn't know me well enough." The masked man continued to mock.

The Black Guard thought of a possibility. He widened his eyes, raised his neck stiffly, put a hand to his throat, and squeezed out a few words with difficulty: "You? The Emperor of the Night?"

The masked man laughed gruffly. "Not bad, worthy of being Friedrich's eyes."

"No, that's impossible. Weren't you thrown into the dungeon?" the black guard asked in disbelief.

"Why do you think that a mere bishop can capture the real Emperor of the Night and throw him into the dungeon?" The masked man shook his head, seeming a little disappointed, but the smile in his eyes still revealed his true thoughts.

Hearing the emphasized word "real," the Black Guard suddenly understood. Anger filled his eyes, and he lowered his center of gravity, as if ready for battle.

Then he turned around and ran away quickly.

The Gvogoff captured in the dungeon is an imposter, not the true Emperor of the Night! I will bring this news back to His Majesty!

The masked man was smiling. He stood there with his hands behind his back, a playful glint in his eyes, and seemed not to care at all about the Black Guard's escape.

Unfortunately, the Black Guard began to feel exhausted after running only a few steps. He gasped for breath and felt his feet getting weaker and weaker.

Oops, it's the incense! There's something wrong with that incense!

By the time the Black Guard realized what was happening, it was already too late. This was his last thought.

Then, he fell to the ground with a thud and breathed his last, but his eyes were still wide open, and it was obvious that he was not reconciled to such an end.

The masked man slowly walked over to the Black Guard's corpse and muttered to himself, "So, next, should I go to the dungeon and fish out my loyal scapegoat? Or should I add more fuel to the fire for the Burgoni family?"

As he spoke, he threw down a torch, and the flames quickly engulfed the body of the black guard, completely igniting the dry early spring.

By the time people noticed the fire and rushed to put it out, the masked man had already disappeared.

…………

As the "scapegoat" in the mouth of the Emperor of Night, Gvoguff was actively planning to escape. His brows were furrowed in distress, and his eyes were rolling around. It was obvious that he had not yet been able to think of a good way to escape.

The two bishops and the former bishop did not pay attention to Glogoff's expression. It was obvious that what was behind the door was their most concerned issue at the moment.

Grein then replied slowly, "The real Eucharist? No, it was never the real Eucharist. It was simply a fake!"

"Heresy!" shouted Sigebert the Bull.

His voice was like a huge bell, echoing in this deep dungeon, like a prelude to an angel's judgment.

Owl Damian stared at Grein with a piercing gaze. "Where's the evidence? Forget about the fact that you've seen the real Holy Host. We all know that you inexplicably mistook a young man for the Holy Spirit. I don't think he's the Holy Spirit you're talking about."

Bishop Damian did not think that Russell, who had made him spit blood with a sword, was easy to deal with. In fact, he was the most anxious one.

Russell's team included Princess Eleanor, and their escape was aided by Crown Prince Conrad. Adding to this was Bishop Sigbert, a nearly obvious undercover agent. Meanwhile, Grein, previously loyal to the Church, suddenly became convinced that the young man named Russell was the Holy Spirit...

In Bishop Damian's view, as one side gained strength while the other lost, the church was already in an overwhelmingly unfavorable situation.

Moreover, Archbishop Cluny's adopted daughter, Cecilia, was currently visiting the Weinard farm. If she too was controlled by the royal family, Archbishop Cluny would probably be forced to make concessions.

Therefore, Bishop Damian must confirm that the Eucharist can still exert its due power.

As long as the Holy Body remains under control, there is still room for a comeback.

If all else fails, then blow up this dungeon completely and let these two traitors be martyred with him. Under no circumstances should the royal family be allowed to control the Holy Eucharist.

This was the reason why Bishop Damian, after careful consideration, decided to ignore his own injuries and forcefully drag Bishop Sigbert down to the deepest level of the dungeon.

Therefore, when Grenn denied the Holy Body, the rage in Damian the Owl was no less than that in Sigbert the Bull, but he controlled his anger very well.

In fact, among the five people present, Bishop Damian was the one who cared most about the Eucharist.

"You, Owl, have always been known as the wisest bishop. But it seems you never think clearly when faced with truly serious matters." Grein smiled and shook his head. "Let's not discuss your inability to recognize the Holy Spirit for now. Damian, have you never considered why the true Holy Eucharist is imprisoned in the deepest reaches of this dungeon instead of being placed in a cathedral for worship?"

"If a real Holy Body were placed in a cathedral, wouldn't its missionary effect be much better than that of a mendicant monk like a bull, who walks around with broken legs and a raw mouth?" Glenn questioned.

Just as the Owl was about to say something, the Bull, with his booming voice, interjected, "Ah, isn't it out of your own selfishness that you say He cannot be moved and must be placed in the dungeons of the Inquisition?"

"My selfishness? Hahahahaha, my selfishness, hahahaha!" Green laughed.

Bishop Sigbert pointed angrily at Lehman, who was cowering behind Grein. "Answer me, Grein! Who is this? Who is he to you?"

"This is my son, Lehman. What's wrong?" Grein replied proudly. "The Holy Spirit has issued a decree to me, rejecting the false saint Francis's doctrine of 'Gospel life' and emphasizing that human beings should live in families!"

In Siegbert's eyes, Grein went from being a heretic to an unrepentant heretic.

215 Slash and Stab

Grein didn't bother to care how ugly the other two bishops looked.

He turned to Lehman and said, "I have previously disobeyed the teachings of the Holy Spirit. This is my sin, and I am determined to cleanse myself of it and correct my mistakes. When we get out of here, I will marry your mother."

Leiman never dreamed that his illegitimate son would one day step into the sunlight. This sudden change stunned him.

Considering that his father made this decision under Russell's influence, Lehman felt a lot of gratitude towards Russell.

Then Lehman immediately remembered the violent conflict between him and Russell (Russell: Who are you?) and the resentment accumulated in his heart. These two emotions intertwined together, making him feel very twisted.

Just as Rayman was feeling a little confused, the short owl Damian slowly opened his mouth.

"Did that Russell bewitched you?"

Bishop Damian spoke each word slowly and clearly, but his words were filled with anger.

The mendicant monks represented by Bishop Sigebert the Bull always walk in the secular world, while the monastic order represented by Bishop Damian simply closes the door and stays away from the secular world to practice asceticism.

Therefore, Damian could not accept Grein's theory even more than Sigbert.

As Damian asked the question slowly in a low voice, the stigma on the back of his hand lit up, and the holy light flowed and shone around his body.

It was obvious that Damian didn't want to listen anymore.

"I asked His Excellency the Holy Spirit for advice and received guidance." Green answered with his head held high.

The former bishop looked at the shimmering yet dimming Holy Light on his former colleague, Bishop Damian, and sneered, "Oh? Why, upon hearing that you're going against the teachings of the Holy Spirit, has the light emanating from your stigmata become so weak? Is your Holy Light abandoning you, Owl?"

Although Glenn didn't know that Bishop Damian was injured after Russell shattered the Holy Light Sword, Damian's weakness was visible to the naked eye.

Damian remained unmoved. He suppressed his weakness after the injury and mobilized the holy light around him, condensing it into another shining sword in the air.

The sword was shining with holy light and was gathering strength, as if it was ready to chop off someone at any moment.

At this time, Damian said, "Hmph, it is enough to deal with you, a heretic who has been deprived of your stigmata."

"They say Owl Damian is always thoughtful and deliberate, but I think the rumors are exaggerated. Have you really decided to fight me in this dungeon of the Inquisition?" Grenn asked with a sneer, "Then let's give it a try!"

At the same time, Gvogoff, who wanted to take advantage of the quarrel between the bishops to move quietly to the outside, suddenly stopped.

Suddenly, a gully opened up in front of him, the flat ground, like the maw of hell. If Gvogoff wasn't careful, he would fall right in.

No wonder, no wonder there were obviously many jailers and prisoners falling down before, but there was not a single corpse to be seen on the eighteenth floor!

Gvogoff was shocked and angry in his heart, but he put on a smile on his face. He stood there carefully and properly, looking very well-behaved.

"Hmph, now that you've lost the favor of the Holy Mark, I want to see how many of the mechanisms in this dungeon you can operate!" Damian broke out in a cold sweat, but the sword formed by the holy light continued to slash down slowly and unwaveringly.

Even though Gvogoff was just a bystander, the slowly falling sword brought him great psychological pressure.

Gvogoff felt as if he had witnessed an irresistible divine judgment. Everything seemed to have frozen under the sacred sword, as if everything was waiting for the sword's judgment and verdict.

Gvogoff heard his heart pounding and felt his mouth dry. He wanted to turn his head, but he couldn't look away; he wanted to escape, but found that his legs were out of control and he couldn't take a step.

He watched as the holy sword fell faster and faster, and finally, like a meteor, it slashed down fiercely.

…………

"Yes, at this time all we have to do is drive the flame like this, and then chop it down hard!" Margaret had finished her discussion with Rosaline and was telling Russell about the improved swordsmanship.

This of course also incorporates the work of Francine and Ha.

"Yes, that's right. This kind of swordsmanship is specially developed to target the soul!"

Seeing that Russell Sword was already performing quite well, Margaret nodded with satisfaction.

Russell practiced Margaret's improved moves a few more times, and when he felt he had a general grasp of them, he nodded to Ha's scarecrow form and said, "So, shall we begin?"

"Oh! Okay! Okay! I can't wait! Let's start quickly. If you have any questions, we can talk slowly after you come over!" Ha's voice was very excited, and he sounded like a child who couldn't wait to go out for an outing.

Russell nodded and said to Rosalyn, "Is your protective magic circle ready?"

Russell wondered if killing a deity so deeply integrated into the local world would lead to anything strange. Ha couldn't guarantee there wouldn't be any problems, as he had never died before and didn't have any relevant experience.

So, just in case, Russell asked Rosaline to make all the necessary preparations.

Rosalyn nodded, a look of deep worry in her eyes. "Well, the magic circle is ready. We've all hidden within its coverage area. I'll activate it right away. You have to be careful too, Russell. If anything goes wrong, come in quickly."

"Well, don't worry, I'm fine." Russell comforted Rosalyn with a smile.

It was not until Rosaline activated the protective magic circle and a faint light enveloped all the ladies that Russell turned his head and looked at the scarecrow standing there.

Russell took a deep breath, adjusted his breathing, and then raised his sword: "Are you ready to enjoy eternal death, huh?"

"Oh, of course! I can't wait!" Ha shouted impatiently.

So Russell thrust his sword into the scarecrow's heart.

"what--!"

It seemed as if the wails of hundreds of people rang out in the Forbidden Forest at the same time. Their voices overlapped and were uniform. The sounds made by countless broken souls were like a single-syllable but hearty chorus.

Russell felt a splitting headache, and he could hardly hold the sword in his hand. He bit his lip and asked viciously: "Well, ha! Have you changed your mind?"