With a light cough, Lin Qi filled himself a cup of wine. Smiling at Count Xiluen, he said calmly, "The East Asian Subcontinent, the Miro Divine Cult—hmm? The Church takes this matter extremely seriously. Heretics invading the Western Continent—the Church takes this matter extremely seriously!"
With a bang, Count Xiluen dropped onto the floor on his backside. He stared at Lin Qi in terror as cold sweat burst from his body in streams. Before long, his silk shirt was drenched and clinging wetly to him. Desperately stretching out both hands, he clutched Lin Qi's boots tightly. He stared fixedly at Lin Qi, wanting to say something, but only hissing sounds came from his throat. Other than that, he could not utter a word.
On Lin Qi's waistcoat, the two badges marking him as a Saint and a high-ranking member of the clergy gleamed brilliantly. To Count Xiluen, they were like two red-hot branding irons pressed hard against his heart, scorching his soul until it was nearly turning into blue smoke and drifting away.
The Church had only one way of dealing with heretics—exterminate them all, leaving neither chickens nor dogs behind!
At first, Count Xiluen had not thought there was anything strange about the easterners he had entertained some days ago. He vaguely knew that they seemed to come from some religious group in the East, but he had not taken it to heart. What was so serious about that?
It had to be admitted that compared to nobles from other nations, the nobles of the Vias Commercial Federation were keenly sensitive to figures involving money, but in terms of political sensitivity, they fell far, far behind the nobles of other countries.
But that was understandable. When this lot went to church to worship the gods, they would even bargain