Only God
Chapter 433 - 383: Mira’s Preaching (Additional 2-in-1)_2

Chapter 433: Chapter 383: Mira’s Preaching (Additional 2-in-1)_2

In just half a year, an unknown number of underground tombs belonging to the Primordial Church had spread the rumors of a new Envoy.

These tombs came from various places, yet their declarations were strikingly consistent.

A new Envoy had arrived to proclaim new Prophecies, new revelations from Heaven.

Those people all claimed to have witnessed the Miracles performed by the Envoy; their testimonies varied—one saw a gravely ill elderly person become completely well in an instant, another saw the poor become wealthy overnight, the hungry achieve unprecedented fullness. Even more so, some claimed to have seen light from Heaven radiating from this new Envoy.

A lie repeated a thousand times may convince people, but what about the truth?

The various secret societies in those underground tombs were the foundation for the survival of the Primordial Church, and now, an Envoy of unknown origin had shaken that stable foundation overnight.

Even when the Primordial Church was declared a Cult, such a thing had never occurred.

Inside the Imperial Palace of Danschel.

Anos had just finished meeting with envoys from foreign lands and was about to leave the side hall.

But soon, a familiar figure appeared outside the door.

The co-ruler Empress halted her steps and greeted the figure with a practiced smile.

It was her mother, Flora, whom she had been estranged from for over ten years.

Anos did not know why she greeted her mother with a smile; due to the Golden Heart, she clearly felt little joy, and her smile now seemed more like a habit.

Flora approached her daughter and asked softly,

"Anos, have you heard?"

"What..."

Before she could finish, Anos realized what she meant,

"Mother, are you talking about... the new Envoy?"

Flora nodded slightly.

For the average Primordial believers, the so-called new Envoy was merely a semi-believable rumor, but for her, the Pastor of the Primordial Church, and her daughter, it was a significant and alerting threat.

"It’s blasphemy. It must be that whore’s doing."

Flora spoke softly.

The Empress cast her eyes down, and unintentionally, the image of someone flashed through her mind.

...

Pastor Flora of the Primordial Church exhaustively searched for the so-called new Envoy’s whereabouts.

Under the Pastor’s edict, nearly every underground tomb was on alert, the proclamation clearly written, denouncing the person as a false Prophet, a false Envoy, whose every word was a false blasphemy.

Moreover, thanks to years of influence, the Night Watchmen of the Empire had long been heavily infiltrated by the Primordial Church, and those among them proficient in the Ancient Language were vigorously searching for the so-called new Envoy’s whereabouts.

All this posed a massive obstruction.

If this new Envoy were a clever fraud, she would have fled upon sensing danger, vanishing without a trace, disappearing into the absurd memories of a generation.

If the new Envoy still insisted on spreading so-called new Prophecies, new revelations.

There could only be two explanations.

Either she was a madwoman, a pitiful soul afflicted with insanity.

Or...

She truly was God’s Messenger.

...

In a small seaside town near the Imperial City, amidst the heartland of the Empire.

A figure clad in black robes vanished into the night, as if burrowing into the ground.

There was someone ahead holding a lantern, as if leading the way; the deeper they went, the more trembling and prayerful the guide became.

The guide was called Allen, a Primordial believer, his family for generations attended Church prayers and visited the Primordial Church on certain special days.

"What are you worried about?"

Allen heard the question and shivered.

"I... I..."

"Have you forgotten what you’ve seen?"

The Envoy asked again.

Her voice was cold, seemingly devoid of emotion yet carried an inexplicable solemnity.

Allen swallowed, fixed his gaze ahead, and nodded with difficulty.

Not long ago, his mother was gravely ill, on the verge of death.

For this, Allen had run around seeking every Physician in the city, unable to find a lifesaving cure.

Until...

One day, amidst the prayer, the Envoy suddenly appeared.

Boom...

A sudden blast of thunder interrupted Allen’s thoughts.

The Envoy stopped and turned to gaze in a certain direction.

"What, what happened?"

Allen asked anxiously.

"Nothing... Perhaps, a storm is coming."

The Envoy’s brief words left Allen puzzled. He took a deep breath, hesitated no longer, and led the Envoy deeper into the darkness.

In the deepest part of the tomb, figures stood crowded together.

When Allen and God’s Messenger appeared, the Believers all turned their heads in unison, their gazes converging upon them as if they had long been waiting.

Allen said with a trembling voice,

"The person...I have brought him."

After speaking, he stumbled and ran off, as if he wanted to sever any association with the Messenger.

The gazes of the Primordial Believers gathered on the so-called new Messenger.

The leading Priest stepped forward, his eyes looking upon the new Messenger with scorn and fury.

"The false Messenger has come, standing before us, testing our devotion," the Priest proclaimed loudly.

Upon hearing these words, the people present held their breath slightly, bowed their heads, and muttered Scriptures to themselves, as if repeatedly proving their devotion to God.

"Pray, no matter what this person says, only through prayer, thusly, can one escape being bewitched," the Priest said.

After he finished speaking, someone first knelt, and then others followed suit. They clasped their hands fervently and prayed earnestly to the Lord.

Among them, some had converted from the Imperial Church, while others had their faith connected by blood, passed down from one generation to the next.

Such steadfast faith — if it weren’t firm, how would they come to be among what others saw as a deviant Cult?

The Messenger silently observed them.

The reason she had come here was at her own request to Allen, who then notified the Priests of this underground tomb.

The arrival of the so-called new Messenger had caused unrest within the Primordial Church.

Even this underground tomb was not exempt, so the Priest had allowed the Messenger to come and had her attempt to prove her falseness before the Believers.

Be it the so-called Prophecy, or a new revelation from Heaven, all were but lies.

If they were lies, then surely there would be flaws to be found.

Even if they could not debunk the lies, the Priest had other plans.

That’s what the Priest thought to himself.

The Messenger took all this in.

She lifted her foot and slowly walked towards the kneeling Believers.

With his pale arm raised from the lack of light, the Priest continued to speak loudly,

"Be vigilant, return to the right path,

Do not be deceived; only through prayer can you prove your devotion to God."

The Priest called out, the Believers knelt on the ground, pressing their clasped hands together until their palms reddened, their nails piercing the flesh, blood seeping out.

The Primordial Believers held their heads low, their necks bent as though in pain, as if only through suffering could they display their piety.

The Messenger’s figure reached those Believers.

She was like a specter in their midst.

Then she spoke,

"To whom are you proving your devotion?"

Her voice was not loud, yet strangely, everyone present heard.

The hands of the Believers trembled.

Who else could it be but God?

They glanced at each other, now unavoidably exchanging perplexed looks.

Doubt and confusion filled their eyes.

"Have you always prayed this way?

Because only through such pain and effort can you prove your devotion to God?" the Messenger continued to ask.

The Believers looked at the Messenger with shocked and bewildered eyes.

"No, you are not proving yourselves to God."

She dropped a sentence:

"But to each other, to others...

You are just proving to yourselves!"

The Believers were stunned for a moment, then froze on the spot, and immediately began to tremble.

No one knew whether the Messenger’s words were words of bewitchment or the truth and reality, but everyone knew that those words struck directly at the heart.

"God knows your fate, knows what you will go through, God can even count every hair on your heads, so, even before you know it, God understands your piety.

If that is so, what need is there to prove it?"

The Believers were shocked, their tightly clasped hands involuntarily relaxed, and the various sacrifices of pain and blood they had long made lost their supposed significance in those resonant words.

Even the Priest took a moment to regain his composure, about to refute the Messenger in front of the Believers.

Only to hear the Messenger continue,

"On the day of rebirth, before the throne, how many are habitual liars? How many speak nothing but lies?

But who can deceive God?

Who can haggle or shift blame?

Know this, before God, all is self-evident without proof."