Nobody knows how to be a villain better than me.

Samael raised the corners of his lips, his expression mocking, and made a move to lie down.

"Are you satisfied?"

"Wait, what's the answer to the second question?"

Even as she faced the prospect of becoming a long-term cellmate with a devil and joining his evil ways, Joan of Arc remained resolute and made a final stand.

"Well, the answer is even simpler."

The ancient snake stretched out its arms and lay down, leisurely crossing its legs, and answered casually.

Chapter Four: The Desire of the Demon

"So-called darkness is simply a lack of brightness, insufficient light;"

So-called evil is nothing more than abandoning kindness and having a cold heart;

Therefore, God did not create darkness and evil; it is simply that some people lack light in their hearts and reject the warmth and kindness that God bestows.

As the languid voice delivered this impeccable answer, Joan of Arc was stunned. She stared blankly at the demon beside her for a long time, a complex emotion gradually rising in her eyes.

Looking at the somewhat distraught Saintess of Orleans, Samael sighed, raised a book he had pulled out from somewhere, and spoke earnestly, his eyes full of pity.

"Child, you should read more books; it will do you good."

I was looked down upon...

A saint revered by the people was actually despised by a demon!

Is there no law anymore? Is there no justice left?!

Joan of Arc was so angry she was speechless, frozen on the spot, her face flushed red, almost causing her to suffer internal injuries from holding it in.

However, on the other hand, it's truly shameful that a saint like myself is inferior to a demon who frequently slanders the Lord in understanding the Bible.

This guy is right. She does need to seriously examine the sincerity of her faith, and at the very least, she should improve her understanding of the classics.

Joan of Arc quickly composed herself, took a few deep breaths to suppress her distracting thoughts, turned to look at the book in the devil's hand beside her, and subconsciously moved closer.

"You want to see?"

The demon, with his keen senses, closed his book and turned to look at the saintess, who was closing the distance between them for the first time.

Joan of Arc pursed her cherry lips, hesitated for a moment, and finally nodded.

The demon graciously granted the request, casually handing the black book in his hand to the saintess beside him.

However, Joan of Arc had only opened the book and flipped through a few pages when she slammed it shut with a "snap," her pretty face instantly turning bright red, almost as if it were about to bleed.

Because, as far as the eye can see, the illustrations inside are scenes of little men and women overlapping each other in different poses.

This is the book you made me read?!

Her Highness nearly lost her composure and almost threw the inappropriate book in her hand at that face.

"Don't like it? Never mind then. This is a rare collector's edition, very expensive, and a rare find in England!"

With a tone that was half regretful and half helpless, Samael sadly pulled the book away, seemingly disappointed that he had not found a like-minded person.

But the mockery and mischievousness on his face were unmistakable.

Damn demon, go to hell!

Unbeknownst to her, the Holy Maiden had been tricked once again. Faced with such evil, she could no longer maintain a peaceful mind. Grinding her teeth in hatred, she uttered such a vicious curse on the other party for the first time.

But then Joan of Arc realized with sorrow that what was a severe punishment for a Christian was utterly useless against the man before her.

Because, for demons, going to hell is like going home...

Joan of Arc, with nowhere to vent her emotions, almost broke down again, and could only keep silently reciting prayers to suppress the growing distracting thoughts in her mind.

Fortunately, the demon, who had been causing enough trouble, finally learned its lesson and, after settling down, stopped disturbing her prayers.

Sunrise and sunset, and the night passed without incident.

When Joan of Arc came to her senses from her half-awake prayer the next day, she opened her eyes and her gaze fell on the black book with a cross on its cover, which lay quietly in front of her haystack.

But Joan of Arc only glanced at it before closing her eyes again and continuing to pray.

“Take it. It is indeed a Bible. Consider it a gift from me to my fellow inmate.”

The demon in the corner, while flipping through yesterday's indecent books, smiled and offered a friendly reminder, extending goodwill to the saintess beside him.

Joan of Arc seemed oblivious to this, turning her back to Samael without uttering a word, and silently praying.

The ancient snake's eyes darted around, and it immediately put on a pained expression.

"This is the Bible! Perhaps the Spirit of the Lord dwells here. Can you bear to throw it on the ground, let it gather dust, and let your faith be shrouded in darkness?"

"You impure one, no matter what methods you use to tempt or sway me, I will not fall for your tricks again!"

Joan of Arc glanced at the demon beside her, gave a cold snort, and her expression was resolute.

"I just wanted to fulfill your wish and show some goodwill to my new fellow inmate. There's no need to be so wary, is there?"

"You? Kindness? Don't try to deny it! I'll find a way to send you back to hell sooner or later!"

"Sigh, why be so hostile towards me?"

Samael sighed softly, his expression filled with sadness and disappointment.

Having already suffered several setbacks, Joan of Arc gradually became immune to this and refused to respond to any sweet talk from her opponent.

Seeing this, the ancient snake rolled its eyes and spoke leisurely.

"Well then, since I'm bored anyway, how about I tell you a story?"

Without waiting for Joan of Arc's response, he continued speaking to himself.

"A town was hit by a flood, and the town's priest was trapped on the roof of the church. He kept muttering prayers and praying to God to save him."

In the distance, he saw the carpenter from town floating towards him, clutching a door panel. The carpenter swam with all his might to the priest's side, urging him to jump off the roof. The priest glanced at the carpenter and refused, saying, "That's too dangerous! I've already prayed to God to save me. You escape on your own." The carpenter swam away, still clutching the door panel.

After a while, the town's fishermen rowed by in their small boat. The fishermen asked the priest to jump into their boat. The priest looked at it and felt it was impossible for him to get on. So he said, "This is too dangerous! I believe God will come to my rescue." The fishermen then sailed away in their small boat.

The floodwaters rose higher and higher, and the priest's prayers to God grew ever more fervent. When the floodwaters finally reached his neck, a dragon rider flew overhead: "Father, quickly grab my hand and ride on the dragon's back with me, or you'll drown!" The priest continued to pray fervently, saying, "Go, God will come to save me!"

The church finally collapsed during the priest's prayers, and the priest went to heaven. Upon seeing God, the priest was furious, accusing God of not rescuing him. God said helplessly, "I gave you a door plank, a small boat, and even sent a dragon knight to rescue you, but you just wouldn't accept it. Who can you blame? I might not have rescued you in the way you preferred."

The story was novel, and although Joan of Arc remained silent, her subconscious pause in prayer and slight turn of her body were enough to show that the saintly lady was already captivated by the story.

At that moment, the demon in the shadows smiled with pleasure, his expression meaningful.

"So how do you know that my appearance before you wasn't arranged by the Lord?"

Upon hearing this, Joan of Arc's body trembled, her brow furrowing and swaying as she pondered for a long time, until the answer in her heart gradually became clear.

That's right! There's no need to resist; just face it calmly.

Since everything is the Lord's will, then the coming of the devil may be the Lord's test for me. Only by passing this trial can I get closer to that infinite light.

Finally, Joan of Arc, her mind at peace, slowly opened her eyes. Her azure eyes were clear and bright. She raised her hand and solemnly picked up the Bible from the hay, turning the pages with reverence.

But then, the saint paused again, turned to look at the demon beside her who was flipping through a book, hesitated for a moment, and an unnatural expression appeared on her face.

"Could you... read this for me...?"

"what?"

Upon hearing this, Samael looked at the Bible that had been handed to him and couldn't help but look at it with a strange expression.

Sending the devil to read the Bible to a saint—what an outrageous religious joke!

"I can't read..."

Joan of Arc's face was filled with embarrassment. Her lips moved for a moment before she finally uttered a shameful whisper.

Samael understood the crux of the problem and was speechless.

He forgot that this holy lady was illiterate.

The eerie atmosphere lingered in silence for a moment. The ancient serpent, regaining its senses, scanned the black book and Joan of Arc's face, then its eyes lit up. With a smile, it took the Bible and opened the title page.

"Let's read it then. Coincidentally, I've thought of a new way to play."

For some reason, under the malicious gaze, Joan of Arc felt a chill run down her spine, as if she had returned to the night before Charles VII's coronation in Reims, when she was pulled aside by a group of ladies-in-waiting to be instructed on her behavior and to frantically brush up on etiquette.

Chapter Five: Defeat and Humiliation

Several days later, in prison.

"If God created all things, then who created God?"

"The Lord is himself and eternal, he is himself and eternal, he was, and he is, and he shall be forevermore. Exodus 3:14."

Which of the disciples denied the Lord three times out of fear?

"St. Peter, from Matthew 26:31-35."

"Which city was the trial mentioned in the Book of Nahum primarily aimed at?"

Nineveh.

The Saint of Orleans sat upright, answering with utmost care and seriousness, staring intently into the dark corner as if facing a formidable enemy.

"Tsk, you actually answered them all correctly. You've improved so quickly. It seems you have a very devout faith."

The demon in the shadows smiled at Joan of Arc, his vertical pupils revealing a hint of approval.

"This is also thanks to your guidance..."

The Saint of Orleans remained silent for a moment, then responded firmly and bluntly.

"No need to thank me. After all, it's quite a fun thing to see a steadfast believer of the Lord being educated by the devil himself. We each get what we need."

Samael, unperturbed by this constant vigilance and alertness, leaned back against the wall and stretched.

Then, the demon turned his head and glanced at the rising sun and the repulsive light outside the iron bars, and couldn't help but yawn, revealing obvious laziness and drowsiness.

"Heh, that's about enough time for today. This is boring. Let's have an easy question and then end the game."

Hearing that the assessment was about to end, the Saintess of Orleans, who had been on edge, breathed a sigh of relief, relaxed her guard slightly, and nodded slightly to the demon before her.

At this moment, Samael casually flipped through the pages of his book, selected a topic, and asked a question with a sense of boredom.

"Who is the true author of the Book of Revelation?"

"Saint John!"

Upon hearing this, Joan of Arc blurted out the answer, and the last trace of tension vanished.

It was indeed very simple; the answer was right there in the question.

The man's smile grew even brighter, his lips slightly upturned, and he slowly opened his mouth.

"Here's a bonus question: What is the content of 2 Timothy 3:16?"

"All Scripture is inspired by God and is useful for teaching, rebuking, correcting and training in righteousness."

Having been constantly exposed to the Bible, the Saint of Orléans, who was already intimately familiar with its contents, answered subconsciously.

However, the moment the words left her mouth, Joan of Arc seemed to realize something, and her face froze.

Samael raised his hand to stroke his chin, observing with interest the changes in the Saintess's pretty face, and asked with a smile.

"So, returning to the previous question, who is the true author of the Book of Revelation?"

Joan of Arc paused stiffly for a moment, then finally moved her lips with difficulty to give the real answer.

"...Holy Spirit..."

What answer is in the question?

The question stem is a completely misleading trap!

Just as only magic can defeat magic, so too can we be truly invincible by answering questions from the Bible in accordance with its original text.

Therefore, according to the original text of 2 Timothy 3:16, St. John was not the true author of Revelation, but rather a ghostwriter.

The Bible was inspired by God and written by the Holy Spirit; everything is the Lord's will.

I've been fooled again...

Joan of Arc slapped her forehead in frustration, her cherry lips pressed tightly together, and she couldn't help but feel a little discouraged.