Chapter 226: Religious War [2]
Following his high-pressure meeting with High Priest Arnold, Inspector Lyrex returned immediately to Oscros City.
The sting of failure and the looming threat of Cardinal Ryoger’s arrival drove him into a cold, methodical frenzy.
He did not deploy his men to knock on doors or conduct tedious searches.
Instead, he mobilized every Grey Paladin under his command to drag every single living soul residing within the eastern commercial district out of their homes.
By mid-afternoon, the grand central square of Oscros City was a sea of terrified, weeping humanity.
Thousands of mundane citizens—merchants, blacksmiths, mothers, children, and elderly folk—were packed shoulder-to-shoulder, herded into the wide cobblestone plaza by heavy steel shields and flashing broadswords.
Surrounding the perimeter of the square were dozens of Grey Paladins, their radiant silver armor gleaming under the harsh sun, their weapons drawn and ready to strike the moment an order was issued.
High above the crowd, suspended in mid-air, stood Inspector Lyrex.
His arms were clasped loosely behind his back, his heavy silver cloak whipping violently in the cold mountain wind.
He looked down at the thousands of mortals forced to kneel in the dirt before his presence, his featureless visor reflecting the gray clouds above.
"People of Oscros," Lyrex’s voice echoed over the square, amplified by his high-tier martial mana so that it vibrated inside the chest of every kneeling commoner.
"Yesterday, a tragic injustice was committed upon this sacred ground. A noble, devoted servant of the God of the Sky—a Paladin who bled to protect your peace—was brutally murdered by the dark, demonic forces of heresy."
Lyrex paused, letting his heavy, suffocating pressure wash over the crowd.
"May his pure soul rest forever in the radiant, eternal realm of our Lord," Lyrex spoke smoothly, before his tone shifted into something sharp and lethal.
He flared his aura, casting a dark, murderous wave of energy that made the temperature in the square plummet. "However... evil does not walk alone. The monstrous beast who struck down my comrade could not have hidden so easily without the willing assistance of those who live on these very streets."
Lyrex stepped down through the air, stopping twenty feet above the kneeling populace.
He glared at the sea of bowed heads, making no effort to conceal his intent to slaughter.
"I shall ask this only once," Lyrex declared, his voice cutting through the quiet whimpers of the crowd like an iron blade.
"Where are the followers of the God of Beast hidden? Who among you gave shelter to the golden-haired demon? Speak now, and earn the mercy of the heavens."
Silence fell over the square.
The citizens trembled, their foreheads pressed against the stone.
It was not that they were protecting the golden-haired warrior—most genuinely had no idea where the mysterious cultivator had vanished to.
But fear locked their jaws, leaving only the sound of heavy breathing and muffled sobbing to fill the heavy air.
The absolute silence only irritated Inspector Lyrex further.
"Deaf... or foolishly loyal to demonic beasts," Lyrex hissed, his patience instantly wearing thin.
He raised a single, armored hand and pointed his finger directly at a group of commoners kneeling near the center of the plaza.
"You five. Stand up," Lyrex commanded coldly.
Five middle-aged men—local shopkeepers and laborers—shivered violently as the surrounding Paladins roughly yanked them to their feet by their collars.
The five men stood in the open space, their legs shaking so hard they could barely remain upright, their eyes wide with terror as they looked up at the floating executioner.
"P-Please, my lord..." one of the men stammered, raising his trembling hands in desperation. "We know nothing! We are innocent, god-fearing—"
Before the man could finish his sentence, Inspector Lyrex simply closed his raised hand into a tight fist.
BOOM!
An invisible, terrifying wall of dense, Martial General mana collapsed upon the five men like a falling mountain.
In a fraction of a second, the heavy atmospheric pressure pulverized their bodies.
Flesh, bone, and internal organs ruptured simultaneously under the immense physical force, turning all five men into a gruesome, explosive spray of crimson meatpaste that splattered across the cobblestones and drenched the commoners kneeling nearby.
"Eeeek!"
Gasping horrors and shrill shrieks erupted from the crowd.
Women threw their arms around one another, weeping hysterically into each other’s shoulders, while fathers desperately pulled their children beneath their bodies to shield their eyes from the gory scene.
The young children shuddered violently, their minds utterly paralyzed, unable to comprehend the senseless, instantaneous violence that had turned five living men into red stain on the ground.
Inspector Lyrex slowly lowered his hand, his voice cold, flat, and completely devoid of human warmth as he looked down at the sobbing mass of commoners.
"There is no mercy for heretics," Lyrex declared, his voice echoing over their cries.
"And in the eyes of the Holy Church, silence is absolute proof of complicity. I shall ask again... where are the heretics hiding? If you do not reveal the hidden followers of the God of Beast... every single soul in this square will die today."
***
While total terror gripped the streets of Oscros City, a quiet calm lingered within the pristine, stone corridors of the Glorious Mythical Sect.
Roy walked slowly down the wide, open hallway of the Grand Pavilion.
He maintained his flawless disguise as the Peerless Supreme Elder, his dark, heavy robes trailing softly behind him, his wrinkled face set into an unreadable, emotionless mask.
His golden-crimson eyes remained focused straight ahead, silently observing the subtle shifts in the sect’s spiritual atmosphere from a distance.
As he reached the intersection of the main courtyard, a familiar figure stepped out from behind a carved stone pillar.
It was High Priest Arnold.
The red-haired cleric had completely restored his pristine, gentlemanly facade.
His white-and-gold holy robes were immaculate, and a smooth, gentle smile rested upon his handsome face, showing no trace of the wild, furniture-smashing rage he had unleashed in his private estate just hours prior.
"Elder Peerless," Priest Arnold greeted softly, placing his hand over his chest and offering a polite, respectful bow.
"High Priest Arnold," Roy replied, stopping his pace and bowing his head slightly in return, his raspy, aged voice calm and measured. "What brings you out to the eastern corridors at this hour?"
Priest Arnold stepped closer, narrowing the distance between them until he was standing right beside the aged elder.
He kept his smile intact, but his voice dropped into a barely audible, confidential whisper that only Roy’s sharp ears could pick up.
"Elder Peerless... the time has come to solidify our partnership," Priest Arnold whispered, his blue eyes gleaming with a sharp, calculating light.
"I require your presence. I need you to escort me personally into Oscros City."
Roy’s eyebrows rose slightly beneath his wrinkled brow, maintaining the illusion of a cautious, veteran cultivator.
"Oscros City?" Roy asked softly. "The city is currently under heavy martial curfew by your Grey Paladins, is it not?"
"Indeed," Priest Arnold replied, his smile widening into something slightly more predatory.
"The situation there has reached a critical juncture. We need to finalize our discussion regarding your position within the Church... and I require an elder of your grand status to lend weight to the official arrangements before Cardinal Ryoger arrives."
Roy stood quietly for a second, gazing into the cleric’s eyes.
Beneath his stoic, elderly facade, a cold, razor-thin smirk flickered in the depths of Roy’s soul.
’He wants me to escort him right into the middle of his own trap,’ Roy thought, his golden-crimson aura humming silently beneath his skin.
"Very well, High Priest," Roy spoke raspy, giving a slow, deliberate nod.
"If it pleases the Church... I shall escort you to Oscros City."