76 - Stop Hypnotizing Me, Villainous Princess!

### Chapter 76: Lynn’s Blade To truly weaken the faith of the masses in Orne City for the Lord of a Billion Stars, Lynn decided there was a need for a bit more fuel to the fire. So, that very night, he set the Temple of Heavenly Principles ablaze. #### The Morning The scene unfolds at the municipal square. In recent days, a wave of fundraising has stirred Orne City, pulling nearly every religious institution into its current. It has evolved into a competition of religious fervor, with most followers becoming zealots. The city's residents have taken to making daily trips past the municipal square, indulging themselves by watching the changing donation amounts—a daily amusement. This bombardment of massive sums has numbed their spirits. After all, it was wealth they could never own in a lifetime. For that, they had the Duke of Tiruus to thank, which at least gave them, the poor, a glimpse of grandeur. Many assumed the fervor would continue unabated. Yet, the morning in the municipal square brought about a subtle change. The banner reading, “Let's see which faith is the most benevolent and generous,” remained unchanged. But a notable shift occurred beneath, with the twelve donation boxes that once stood there. Eleven, previously brimming with gold, had vanished overnight, leaving only an empty box for the Temple of Heavenly Principles. A solitary, vacant glass box which made the Temple of Heavenly Principles conspicuously bare to the sight. The sight was an overt declaration against them, like a loud shout, "We're targeting the Temple of Heavenly Principles!" This led to a ripple of barely restrained grins among the crowd. “Pfft—” Someone could no longer contain themselves and chuckled. Using this as a fuse, laughter erupted across the square, audible even a block away. The laughter carved through the air like invisible daggers, piercing into the hearts of many followers of the Heavenly Principles present. Already overwhelmed with shame, they muttered low "May the Lord bless" as they fled like abandoned dogs. It wasn't exactly unexpected that followers of other faiths reveled in this downfall. Resentment toward the Heavenly Principles Church had existed long. In Orne City, if there was a hierarchy among religious beliefs, then the Temple of Heavenly Principles undoubtedly reigned at the top. With the largest number of followers and the majority of sacred relics, their supernaturally superior stance dictated their scorn towards all other beliefs. This disdain was intangible but pervasive, creating an unreachable barrier in everyday life. Now, however, with nothing more than a banner and an empty box, their pride was ground to dust. An invisible yet decisive force behind the donations, a hand so skilled, managed through simplistic means to cord the other eleven faiths together, inciting their followers to momentarily unite and trample the institution held in highest esteem: the Temple of Heavenly Principles. The followers, usually residing at the apex of religious hierarchy, now found themselves sinking to the bottom. Meanwhile, the Slán sect seized the opportunity, expanding their follower base thanks to their inaugural massive donation. --- #### Late Night at the Temple of Heavenly Principles Mozel paced within his room, his face a tapestry of emotions. The events of this morning, heard once more, were another blow to his already edgy demeanor. During the evening's prayer session, the followers lingered post-service, silently expressing disappointment through their wordless protest. It was clear the recent string of events had shocked the once-devoted believers. How could it be that the seemingly affluent Temple of Heavenly Principles stayed silent during this city-wide charity movement? Should he compromise? No. Conceding would only maximize their current losses. As the last to contribute, yielding now would be akin to succumbing to Duke Tiruus. The overseeing nobility and the headquarters back in the capital would never allow it. Yet, continuing with this stubborn course would imperil the faith of the city's 150,000 believers. Whichever choice he made, it seemed he had already lost, caught in a dilemma. A more pressing issue loomed—only three days remained before Prince II’s expected arrival in Orne City. If the matter wasn't settled by then, he'd find himself in dire straits. As these thoughts swirled, a droplet of sweat traced down Mozel's forehead—whether from tension or the heat of liquor-induced warmth, he wasn't sure. But then, a hint of something burnt tickled his senses. A pounding at his door coincided with the realization. “Bishop! Something’s wrong! The church is aflame!” “The fire began at the discipline ward and monastery, and it’s spreading fast. Please, evacuate the church!” How could this be happening repeatedly?! Already near bursting with rage, Mozel not only feared death, though his fourth-tier status protected him from the flames, but decided to heed the suggestion from his subordinates for once and sustain control. Just a moment before leaving, an instinct had him look at a particular spot on his bookshelf. Those boxes, securely hidden and shielded by solid walls... they should escape the fire’s reach, right? Hesitation gripped Mozel. Recently wary of Duke Tiruus’ army stationed closely, he dared not dispatch the funds to the capital blatantly, choosing instead to conceal them within his chambers. No one but himself knew of their existence. His plan was to present them personally to the prince as a regal election fund upon his arrival. The knocking outside intensified. “Coming,” he irritably replied, stamping down his indecision as he stepped out. Yet unaware, every motion he made was observed by a figure beyond the window. Upon reaching the church entrance, Mozel encountered a packed crowd. These were the devoted followers of the Heavenly Principles, drawn by news of the blaze. Worry glistened in their eyes, with some instinctively kneeling in prayer. Mozel masked his impatience with a benign demeanor: “There’s no need for worry—merely an accident under control, and soon the Lord shall shield us.” Internally, doubts crept within. How could such a significant fire originate within a building constructed from such materials under their security? Yet before deeper pondering, a spontaneous cheer exploded. Relieved, the believers' faces lit with joy. “May our Lord protect us.” “Mozel’s reliability reassures us.” “Hope it doesn’t affect the coming Samuel festival.” “We’re willing to aid in the church’s repair, be it funds or labor, anything we can contribute!” Their clamorous chatter added to Mozel’s mild irritation. He sought to dismiss the crowd, minimizing the affair’s impact. Then, a sudden commotion arose behind him. He instinctively turned his head. There, he saw a dozen people dressed in the Church’s robes, grouped in pairs, each carrying large wooden boxes towards him. Mozel paused in bewilderment. As the bishop of the Orne City diocese, he recognized all his subordinates. Yet, he had no recollection of these individuals. Were they newly recruited personnel? Impossible. The Temple of Heavenly Principles had a stringent vetting process, where each member was cautiously integrated, so having a sudden influx of figures was unimaginable. Moreover, something else felt off, a subtle unease bubbling beneath the surface. In a moment, the realization struck him. The wooden boxes carried by these mysterious clergy members, from their design to their engravings, seemed troublingly familiar. They resembled the ones hidden in the secret chamber behind his bookshelf! Staring blankly, Mozel watched as the strangers swiftly transported the boxes to him within seconds. The crowd of believers, who were initially ready to disperse, caught the scent of something unexpected and halted in unison, drawn back to watch. Panic surged in Mozel's chest: “Stop right there!!!” His aura radiated with a faint lavender supernal energy as his reflexes took over, manipulating gravity to attempt suppressing the unfamiliar persons clad in clerical robes. But it was too late. Whether by accident or with precise intention, the leading clergy member suddenly slipped with a thud, the box in his grasp dropping lower. Then, with unstoppable momentum, the box toppled to the ground. In an instant, the lid popped open with a loud clang. A cacophony of clinking metal followed as countless St. Laurent gold coins spilled out, scattering in all directions under the flickering light of the nearby flames. “Bishop! The eight boxes of gold coins, totaling one million pieces from your room, have been safely gathered here without any damage from the fire. Please advise on the next steps!” The clumsy clergy member seemed to have a moment of wit. Scrambling to his feet, he saluted sharply and declared loudly. Gazing at the massive spill of gold coins, the surrounding believers fell into stunned silence for several seconds, before erupting into chaos! “How… how is there so much money?!” “Didn’t the priests say the church was struggling financially?!” “Bishop Mozel, you owe us an explanation for the origin of these funds! And why did you refuse to participate in the municipal square’s donation drive!!!” “Why were these funds hidden in your room?!” “We demand the truth!!!” Listening to the uproarious uproar of the believers, Mozel's mind went blank, a buzzing filling his consciousness. Someone is framing me!!! [Unable to automatically load the next page in reading mode. Please exit reading mode and click the next page to continue reading.]