"You underestimate the power of God!"
That voice was like a sharp sword, piercing straight into the Archbishop’s throat, making him gasp for air, unable to utter a word of rebuttal. Eyes wide, mouth agape, his face rapidly turned pale.
He was the Archbishop, after all.
He had baptized tens of thousands of people, he was the leader of tens of thousands of True Believers, and his theological expertise was matched by few. Yet at this very mont, he was accused of underestimating God’s great power.
The problem wasn’t the accusation itself, the problem was that he was being accused by an unknown person and was unable to defend himself.
The Archbishop’s face was bloodless, and infinite regret surged within him—he shouldn’t have called those people the enemies of God, he should have chosen different words.
Xilan’s words bood like thunder, striking the Palace, causing the King’s hands to sweat. He looked at the Archbishop with pleading eyes, hoping this knowledgeable Godfather could offer a rebuttal, but he saw only the latter’s sorry state, powerless under Xilan’s questioning.
Everyone present also began to waver. They beca timid one by one, doubts arising from deep within their hearts. For a mont, whispers and discussions abounded.
Xilan surveyed the crowd, his gaze seeming to possess a magical power. The entire Palace quieted under that gaze, almost everyone holding their breath, staring intently at Xilan.
"Let’s recall what I’ve encountered in this Palace,"
Xilan said softly:
"We debated what constitutes a heretic, you believe, if they are unfair to you, you must be unfair to them."
Underneath that plain attire, the voice was steady and moderate, everyone listening quietly, holding their breath. The Palace no longer seed like a symbol of royal authority; it rather beca his pulpit.
And they were no longer the so-called righteous defenders of the faith; they seed more like a congregation of devout followers.
"You say God’s justice is not the sa as what we consider just, and your Bishop, after failing in debate, struck with his staff."
Xilan glanced over the crowd,
"In the end, your Bishop even said that God has enemies, and in the na of God, for the cause of God, those enemies must be eradicated."
Despite it being a re statent and not a vehent refutation, for so reason, everyone felt a fear arising from their hearts, the calm before a storm lingering above the Palace.
It seed as if a violent storm could break out at any mont.
"God saved this world, so as not to let us perish—His Envoy was chosen, bringing the gospel of Heaven, with so many missions assigned, leading countless people toward the path to Heaven.
You should know, how does one proceed to Heaven?"
Xilan’s voice was so gentle and persuasive, like the world’s best tutor.
"Justice, doing good, worshiping the Lord."
The people replied in unison, as if by prior agreent.
Faced with this scene, sweat broke out on the King’s brow, while the Archbishop hung his head like a dog that had lost its ho.
"This is the path to Heaven. Yet in you, I see deeds that run counter to this path."
Xilan spoke slowly.
In their panic, the crowd asked in unison:
"What is it... What exactly is it?"
The man said:
"Injustice, evil deeds, using God’s na in vain."
............
This event remained vivid in Xilan’s mory.
He had silenced the Archbishop and warned everyone present, and many imdiately laid down their weapons, declaring they would no longer partake in the war.
But could ambition be extinguished so easily?
Of course, things weren’t resolved so simply.
The King and so Nobles were still resentful. The day after Xilan left the Palace, he and the Archbishop declared Xilan a heretic and issued a warrant for his arrest nationwide, attempting to reignite the flas of war in people’s hearts.
Countless Lords were stirred up, beginning a national hunt for Xilan.
In such situations, often only a Miracle could suffice.
Words oftentis cannot persuade another person, no matter how reasonable. For humans are emotional, they have desires. Even if reason tells the people that Hell lies ahead, emotions and desires will push them toward it.
Therefore, only sufficient deterrence can stop the steps of emotion and desire.
Just like many tis before, Xilan perford a Miracle in front of that King.
For a mont, it was as if boiling water was suddenly poured into a cold river, instantly ceasing to bubble.
The night of the Miracle, the King revoked the arrest order against Xilan. Not only that, he took the initiative to go to the church, ordering the Priests to scourge him with thorns, as a sign of his remorse.
After learning of this, Xilan, on the outskirts of the Kingdom, let out a helpless sigh.
How many tis had it been like this...
How often had kindly advice failed to stop soone at the edge of a cliff?
It seems that fear-inducing deterrence was more successful in causing prodigal sons to return.
From Dwarves to human beings, regardless of the race or which Divine they worshiped, their nature seed to remain the sa.
Then, along that stony path.
A voice swept past his ear,
"How sad people are, aren’t they?"
Xilan stopped, gazing into the distant sky, and murmured:
"Great Angel... Schiller? Is that you? The holy Great Angel?"
The voice did not deny.
"Fear often heals more effectively than kindness."
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