Short Selling!

Zhou Beichen's plan, like a set of precise, cold gears, began quietly meshing and turning on an invisible battlefield. This war had no smoke, yet it was just as deadly. Its weapons were information, credit, and the greed and fear buried deep within human nature.

The first step was to stomp hard on the accelerator of Gregory's already overheating "indulgence certificate" machine.

Several well-dressed, eloquent "traveling merchants" with accents from distant star regions appeared in the core city of Gregory's theocracy—Rock Town. Carrying documents stamped with forged yet convincing chamber-of-commerce seals, they went straight to request an audience with the church officials in charge of logistics and finances.

The meeting took place in a hall filled with incense and the gleam of gold and silverware. The "merchants" said they had heard that the great Archbishop Gregory was preparing for a holy war, and had come specifically to offer a batch of scarce military supplies—including high-quality alloy ingots, durable sand beast leather, and even a small number of energy weapon batteries. The quantity was enough to equip half a legion.

Gregory's finance officer's eyes lit up, but his expression soon turned troubled. Such an enormous quantity of supplies required an astronomical amount of cash or equivalent goods. Although the theocracy's treasury had temporarily been filled by indulgence certificates, most of it had already been converted into military equipment and provisions. Its liquidity was already stretched thin.

"We understand the theocracy's difficulties," said the merchants' leader, a middle-aged man calling himself Horne. Smiling, he stroked the enormous gemstone ring on his finger, which looked priceless but was actually dyed Colchis glass. "We are not unreasonable people. We have heard that the 'holy indulgence certificates' issued by your theocracy are proof of the Father God's grace and enjoy excellent credit. Perhaps... we could accept some indulgence certificates as collateral? Once the holy war is won, the remaining balance can be settled with spoils of war. After all, we are full of confidence in the prospects of this holy war."

The finance officer could hardly believe his ears! Such devout and generous merchants were actually willing to accept indulgence certificates that had not yet been fully redeemed as collateral? He agreed almost impatiently, afraid they might change their minds. A deal exchanging vast quantities of supplies for enormous amounts of indulgence certificates as collateral was swiftly concluded.

The news seemed to grow wings and quickly spread through Gregory's theocracy and its associated merchant circles.

"Even merchants from major trade guilds recognize our indulgence certificates!"

"They must know something we don't. The holy war is certain to be won!"

"Indulgence certificates will be worth even more in the future!"

Almost at the same time, another rumor began quietly spreading through the streets. Its source was impossible to trace, yet it precisely tugged at the heartstrings of every holder and onlooker.

"With the holy war approaching, far-sighted merchants are all scrambling to buy indulgence certificates. These things will become hard currency in the future!"

"I heard supplies are limited, and the theocracy is about to stop issuing them!"

"If you don't buy now, you won't even have a way to make offerings to the Father God later!"

Panic buying ignited in an instant.

Indulgence certificates, which had originally circulated only within a small range and were used to exchange for physical goods from the theocracy, became red-hot speculative commodities overnight.

Their market price began breaking away from the face value set by the theocracy, soaring upward like a wild horse that had broken free of its reins. Commoners emptied their final savings, small merchants wagered the capital of their shops, and even some minor and mid-ranking nobles could no longer hold back. They all rushed into the market, competing to buy those slips of paper printed with sacred patterns. Everyone believed this was a shortcut to both wealth and salvation. Seeing this, Gregory's theocracy was delighted. It even secretly added fuel to the flames, printing several more batches of indulgence certificates and releasing them onto the market, greedily absorbing the last of the people's wealth.

Rock Town's "market" buzzed with voices, and the air was thick with the feverish stench of money. The price of indulgence certificates rose steadily, and every holder's face shone with joy at their growing wealth.

At that moment, the second step began without a sound.

Several utterly ordinary-looking people, dressed like petty traders, appeared in the market carrying large quantities of brand-new, consecutively numbered high-value indulgence certificates. They did not draw attention to themselves. They simply sold all the certificates in their hands at prices just slightly below market value. They were unloading a huge quantity, but the fevered market swallowed the certificates instantly like a sponge taking in water, without even causing a major price fluctuation. The buyers were secretly pleased, thinking they had gotten a bargain.

These dumped certificates were precisely the collateral Horne and the others had received from Gregory's finance officer. Zhou Beichen had instructed his underlings to quietly cash out at the peak price.

Just as the market had absorbed that sell-off and prices had stabilized slightly, even preparing to surge upward once more—the third heavy hammer fell in the most unexpected way!

Rumors appeared again. This time, however, they carried a bone-piercing chill and a subversive accusation.

"Did you know? That 'Colchis paper' used to print indulgence certificates was first developed by those heretics from Earthly Heaven!"

"What? Impossible!"

"It is absolutely true! I have a relative who stayed in Ralte and saw them making paper with his own eyes! The formula and the process both came from the Southern Highlands!"

"Then... the indulgence certificates in our hands..."

"Think about it! The heretics of Earthly Heaven know how to make windmills, salt, and glass. What is so remarkable about making paper? If they can make identical paper, then couldn't they... forge indulgence certificates?!"

Panic, like a bucket of ice water over the head, instantly extinguished the market's fervor.

Forgery!

Those two words spread like a plague, sweeping through the entire trading circle at ten times the speed of any favorable news before it. People began frantically inspecting the indulgence certificates in their hands, rubbing the texture of the paper and comparing the details of the patterns... The more they checked, the deeper their doubts grew. It was true—the paper seemed different from the clay tablets and beast hides used before. It was so light. If the heretics really could imitate it...

Trust, the most fundamental support of this financial product, began to collapse.

"Fake! Mine must be fake!" A shrill voice rang out in the market. A small merchant holding a large number of indulgence certificates had gone pale, as though he were clutching venomous snakes rather than wealth.

"Mine too! The pattern is printed crooked!"

"Refund them! I want a refund! Give me back my grain!"

The run had begun.

At first, it was scattered, but it soon became an unstoppable flood. Tens of thousands of believers, commoners, and merchants, clutching the indulgence certificates they had once regarded as treasures, surged toward church redemption points everywhere. They screamed themselves hoarse, demanding physical goods, gold, or silver in exchange. They no longer believed in the future or holiness represented by those sheets of paper. They only wanted their tangible wealth back.

Gregory's theocracy instantly descended into immense chaos. Warehouses everywhere were besieged so tightly that not even water could pass through, while priests responsible for exchanges were shoved and cursed by furious crowds.

How could the theocracy possibly redeem such an enormous number of indulgence certificates all at once?

It had long since poured most of the supplies it had collected into the army, leaving the treasury nearly empty.

When the news reached the central temple of Rock Town, Archbishop Gregory's fat body trembled violently with rage. He smashed his beloved crystal wineglass and roared, "Suppress them! Suppress them for me! Anyone who attacks the theocracy will be treated as an accomplice of heretics! Kill them without mercy!"

The army was mobilized, attempting to use swords and spears to disperse the crowds making withdrawals. At first, the bloody suppression did have some effect, and the streets before several redemption points were stained red with blood.

However, it could only suppress the situation temporarily. It could not erase the panic. Instead, it was like carrying firewood to put out a fire, deepening the people's despair and rage.

More fatally, Gregory soon discovered that even the foundation of his rule—the noble class—had fallen into panic. Many nobles, including some officers under his command, had converted vast amounts of family wealth into indulgence certificates that were easy to store and carry! If those certificates became wastepaper, their fortunes and lives would be ruined!

"Archbishop! We must redeem them! At least redeem the nobles' shares first! Otherwise... otherwise even the army may become unstable!" A trusted subordinate knelt on the ground and reported in terror. The pressure from the nobles frightened Gregory even more than the commoners' riots.

Swords could be turned against commoners, but they could hardly be turned against noble allies who also controlled armed force.

Besieged from within and without, Gregory was overwhelmed. Facing an empty treasury and armies and nobles clamoring to be fed, he made a mad, desperate decision. His eyes bloodshot, he rasped an order to the military commander.

"Gather... gather the First and Third Legions! The target... shift the target to the 'Red Rock' diocese in the east! That is the territory of that old fox Vladimir! He has stockpiled huge quantities of supplies yet refuses to move, waiting to laugh at me... We will borrow some from him to get through this emergency!"

He could no longer wait for the holy war. He had to survive first. By the most primitive and direct means—robbery.

Thus, before the Covenant Church's allied army to punish Earthly Heaven had even formally taken shape, one of its largest forces, under the command of its leader Gregory, turned its spearhead and pounced upon its nominal ally.

Meanwhile, amid the chaotic market, just as indulgence certificate prices had fallen to rock bottom and were nearly regarded as wastepaper, unfamiliar, low-profile faces began to appear. At extremely cheap prices—virtually the price of scrap paper—they silently bought these once-priceless "sacred notes" from desperate holders.

The buyers moved swiftly and spoke little, their eyes calm.

The monstrous beast Gregory had nurtured through the capital bubble had finally lost control in the financial swamp of his own making, turning its fangs toward the companions at its side.

The Covenant Church's seemingly united alliance of punishment had split open from within, revealing its first wound deep enough to show bone.