Black Sail
Chapter 566: CXCV. Grand Birthday Celebration (5K)

Chapter 566: CXCV. Grand Birthday Celebration (5K)

August 25.

Since the Kelor Highlands have already pledged allegiance to the Eternal Sect, I got up, the crystal burst, what’s there to say?

The Resistance Army raised by Uborio is barely surviving in name now.

War isn’t about who fights the fiercest; it’s about who has more money, whose industrial power is stronger.

These ignorant and tragic farces have ended.

Of course, Crocodile Island treats people horribly. If I don’t cruelly exploit the people of Mulong, who will buy feed for the numerous exotic beasts in my family’s manors? And the money for the mistresses, the high-end customized luxury for all of Geliheng’s mistresses, who will afford it?

Crocodile Island fighting the natives is essentially a strike from a higher dimension; they don’t care how many Resistance soldiers there are, doesn’t it just make them look faster at killing?

And with the arrival of the Eternal Sect.

Compared to Uborio and Crocodile Island, Zote is like the Holy True God’s substitute on earth, and like hell, chopping off a slice is the same. New users get food for free, and old users earn Church Coins through labor, which have more purchasing power than their pre-war life. Maybe not meat at every meal, but at least a balanced diet of meat, eggs, and milk every day.

Now, indeed, at a minimum of ten coins hourly, washing dishes can put you on the Forbes list.

This is an absolute reversal.

Every event needs to be viewed within the context of its time; otherwise, there is no point in discussing it. Look at Xiao Zheng, from the perspective of achievements, he was indeed impressive, but the people only care about immediate benefits. I don’t care if you are amazing, unified script is not my concern. As long as we live good lives, I’ll rebel, rebel however I see fit. You decrypt codes? Great, you’re a cryptographer, we have hope. Per capita ’Sir this way’, and you say the Second passed away in the Ganges?

The Eternal Sect can contend with the Royal Court, and knives are indispensable. If they can’t compete with the Aran Treasury, what kind of game are we playing?

For the Emperor, the railway crossing the Narrow Sea from east to west is just a new project, meaningful but not as significant as imagined. He mentioned it once to indicate interest, and that’s it.

But for the current Pope, there are indeed many tricks up Lagrange’s sleeve in the Royal Court. They are even messing with telephone booths, cameras, and "highway trains".

The Western Continent has no concept of cars; they call it the highway train. The New City Industrial District of the Imperial City is too flashy. In theory, the highways built by Aran, with the Nine Tribes strictly selected, are so perfectly aligned and straight through complex terrain. IT’S FUCKING GAY, yet the Aran Highway IT’S FUCKING STRAIGHT.

Not to mention running cars, even supercars with chassis lower than the short shorts of prostitutes can drive on it. Not every village is accessible, but every town has connectivity.

The Pope’s network of information is the most sensitive in the world. Lagrange had two fingers cut off by Zote, yet he hasn’t learned his lesson. Wearing two ridiculous thumb prosthetics, he wants to show off again and is preparing to attract nationwide noble investments to launch the highway train on September 9.

Considering Lagrange’s status, of course, he can’t appear in a middle-field literary performance. Everyone comes to see Qili and other top musicians, all of whom are beauties and handsome guys. Old men are too ruinous. He can only let the Champion act as a spokesperson after the martial arts performance to attract a major wave of investments.

Who uses traditional means of transportation anymore? The Old Aran Upper Three Flags must ride Bentleys, Rolls-Royces.

The Pope is enraged. This indeed is progressive technology and can’t be labeled as heresy like some arcane spell. Also, they’ve gone too far; the trains can only run with the Dragon Lord’s Blessing. The older people of Aran might believe it, but led by the Royal Institute of Technology, the young people are laughing, calling it remnant feudalism.

If phone booths get blessed, cameras get blessed, it will backfire completely.

The Pope feels that during his generation, the Sect is going to collapse. Using Old Blue Star’s words, he should find a tree on Coal Mountain and hang himself, so future generations would evaluate him a bit more decently.

But the Pope is not someone like this; he’s sturdier than freshly laid cement because the Dragon Lord truly has tens of divisions.

Someday, when the West Continent Five Permanent convene, they must call the Pope.

Suffering from paranoia, the Pope feels he is more ineffective by the day. He must take urgent actions. Once all these emerging technologies are out, the Aran people will become indifferent to religion. At most, they occasionally burn incense, while the wealthy foolishly burn money to buy good luck. What’s the point then? Who will maintain the lamps? Who will pay for the Dragon Lord’s carnival? Who will fuel Zhan Yaping’s Mercedes?

He is paranoid.

But the High Priests and Grand Priests below are not. Even if the Dragon Lord dies, are you kidding? With the scale of the Church Court, centuries of heritage, real estate, ideology, Judgement Court, armed forces, as strong as Evgeny in his prime. They can directly march with knives to the Imperial Palace and blow up that usurper. Can’t you stop being so paranoid, brother?

The Pope refuses.

The Emperor never cares about little things. If someday the army conquers another small country, he wouldn’t mind.

The Pope is the opposite; he searches the internet daily, browsing intensely. If some adventurer guild member sleeps with God knows whom, he needs to check.

Hearing Lagrange’s plans sparked his paranoia to the extreme. This person is determined to desecrate the Dragon Lord, overthrow himself, and sever the thousand-year foundation of the Eternal Sect.

He realized that being a nice guy perhaps doesn’t work anymore.

Throughout Western Continent’s history, countless religions declined when they stopped making money, took the dark path, scaled down, and became easier to control as small to medium-sized groups, finally turning into cults.