The entire world was in a state of upheaval.
Everyone could feel a change in the air.
Both online and in society, there was a uniform direction—hope.
But for York, he didn't feel much different.
Even though his every move was followed, and he was surrounded by people who naturally obeyed his commands, for York, it was just ordinary.
Even in the real world, he had always been in this situation—whatever he did, there were always a few who obeyed his commands, always a few extremely devout followers.
So, transitioning here wasn't difficult at all.
In fact, for him, this world was like a seaside resort, and the very apparent changes outside were merely the waves.
And he was like a tourist, standing on the beach watching the waves roll in.
In summary, it was all ordinary for him, nothing groundbreaking enough to shake his core.
The waves rolled in and out, but they didn't affect his plans.
He was merely leading Marcos and the other sanitation workers to the nearest abandoned church to Amara town.
This larger town was named Bellobello.
The difference in scale between Amara and Bellobello could be described as that between a town and a county city.
So, there were more people and a larger church.
Watching the people confined within a certain range, York turned to Marcos, who had unwittingly replaced Mirta as his new assistant.
But it was undeniable that the two were incomparable.
Marcos seemed to come from a very prominent family, a true elite, thus his effectiveness far surpassed what Mirta could achieve.
The surging crowd outside was proof of this.
They were densely packed yet orderly.
And the officials had been relegated to assisting roles, acting as security.
The uniformed figures standing like barriers in front of the crowd were proof enough.
"Marcos, this is your doing," York couldn't help but ask.
It was the first time he saw the number of followers increasing so rapidly in seconds.
Marcos, sensing the bishop's surprise, showed a rare smile and nodded lightly.
"I notified the local authorities and our comrades of your arrival."
York glanced at the dense crowd outside and commended.
"Well done, Marcos."
Marcos's smile couldn't be suppressed any longer.
"Thank you for your praise, Bishop."
This prompted his colleagues to exchange knowing smiles.
"This Marcos..."
Since joining the church, Marcos had visibly undergone a significant transformation.
Not just him, but they all felt more at ease than ever before, without any worries.
They finally understood something, shifting their gaze from Marcos to the bishop touring the church.
The bishop's presence seemed to overshadow everything.
Being near the bishop felt like standing beside a mighty mountain; the sense of security was indescribable...
If they had to put it in words, it would be: "If the sky falls, the bishop will hold it up."
"Let's go inside and take a look."
As York spoke, he walked towards the church on his own.
"Yes, Bishop."
Marcos was always quick to follow, while the others were a step slower.
York's mouth curved into a slight smile.
This guy, Marcos, was truly outstanding; he understood York's intentions and what he wanted—efficient and to the point, without needing any hints from York.
And because of Marcos's top-tier status, York found that he seemingly didn't need to do much anymore.
For example, dialogues with officials or distributing bibles, crosses, and so forth.
With the addition of Marcos and the sanitation workers, York could say he had people whenever he wanted, money whenever he needed.
He was capitalizing on the reputation and authority that the sanitation workers had accumulated, so the progress was remarkably fast.
Now, with the Bible that he brought as the core, copies were being freely distributed to the followers.
At this moment, what Marcos and the other sanitation workers carried was not the cumbersome, complex equipment of before but a Bible, four bottles of holy water, and two crosses.
"It seems I just need to keep creating churches and granting power," York thought as he walked on, outwardly calm.
"It looks like my mission is nearing its end. As expected, completing the task is best."
At his side, Marcos, a group of supportive sanitation workers, and the local officials quietly followed.
The local official, a rather unfriendly-looking fellow, was now showing a very stiff smile as he introduced the church.
"Bishop York, we have prepared the church for you. Everything is new, including the floor-to-ceiling windows, sculptures, candles, tiles…"
Together, these elements presented a brand-new church that seemed to glow before York.
"Thank you, that's very thoughtful."
York smiled and was not stingy with his praise.
This made the local official from Bellobello, Alfi Patten, crack a broader smile, his stiff expression becoming more natural.
Everyone was smiling.
As things developed and were deliberately orchestrated, the atmosphere in the entire Free Nation was
to go all out to please the bishop, who seemed to be a saint out of legend.
If anyone did something to upset the bishop, it wouldn't just be the authorities and sanitation workers reacting—the hopeful-eyed masses would tear you apart...
"If that's the case,"
York, hands clasped behind his back, stared at the statue of Jesus at the end of the central aisle, and declared,
"This church will be named the Bellobello Church."
He had become so relaxed that he was naming churches after local names.
But no one opposed this; instead, they slightly bowed their heads in agreement.
"Yes, Bishop."
York was extremely pleased internally; he loved how smoothly things were progressing.
He didn't demand much, just to create more churches, leveraging the world's resources to clear the forbidden zones and complete his mission.
As the holy power surged within him, he instantly reached the statue of Jesus, sanctifying it with the same minimal expenditure of ten points as the Pluto Church.
[Used ten points of holy power]
The prompt echoed in his ear.
[Bellobello Church]
[Level 2 Church]
[Accumulated holy power: 0 points]
[Number of followers: 2096]
[...]
The followers here were directly assigned to the newly created Bellobello Church.
To everyone's perception, the bishop suddenly appeared enveloped in a layer of pure white light, the scene like being draped in white gauze.
Their hearts stirred, and they instinctively looked toward the statue of Jesus at the back.
The statue seemed to come to life, no longer just a lifeless sculpture.
Then a voice resonated, falling into their hearts like the sound of thundering drums.
"Markalov Dreyar!"
York called out the name of a sanitation worker, recalling his file.
In a region heavily infected by corruption, this man had resisted the spirits' onslaught with just one arm, bravely extracting the demonic seeds from the corrupted bodies.
His achievements included removing four corrupt beings, and with the help of local officials, he moved four thousand civilians using just his human strength.
This was an impressive record.
Without any supernatural powers.
As a mere human, he had distinguished between spirits and humans and successfully moved four thousand people to avoid infection—a feat far from ordinary.
Such success required an unwavering will and an unregretful readiness to face death.
Also essential was an exceptional talent for management.
As the saying goes, a general may manage a battalion, but a commander controls an army.
Markalov Dreyar had the qualifications to become a priest and take charge of the Bellobello Church.
From the detailed records and data, York could see that this man had the qualifications to be a bishop.
None other, this was a person of remarkable quality, even more so than himself, perfectly suited to be a clergyman of the church.
As everyone was moved by these words, one person stepped forward and knelt on one knee under York's gaze.
"Present!"
Markalov Dreyar, composed with a determined gleam in his eyes, wore a simple, black robe, a bag slung over his left shoulder, his left hand holding a bent iron hand, his right hand resting on his chest.
Aside from some confused local officials, Marcos and other sanitation workers looked at Markalov Dreyar with joy on their faces.
They understood the situation at hand.
In Bishop York's words, Markalov Dreyar was to be the second clergyman, entrusted with the church's real power.
Although they were still ordinary people and not yet clergymen, there was no jealousy in their hearts, only joy for Markalov Dreyar.
"Markalov Dreyar, you are brave and fearless. You face danger head-on, letting demons witness your iron will…"
Speaking calmly, York extended his right hand and placed it on the kneeling Markalov Dreyar's forehead, gently saying,
"You have the qualifications to be a priest."
This clarified the situation for everyone present, including the local officials and sanitation workers.
Slowly moderating their expressions, they began to regard the scene before them with reverence.
They were witnessing a moment that would be etched into the annals of history.
"Are you ready?" York stared at Markalov Dreyar, who seemed a bit excited, his eyes red, and spoke softly.
"Markalov Dreyar, you will take charge of this area, responsible for preaching, maintaining peace, addressing the needs and confusions of the followers, and being their confidant and comforter, supporting them in their troubles and dilemmas…"
Markalov Dreyar responded with a deep bow.
"Yes, Bishop, I am ready."
His voice trembled slightly.
"Very well."
York smiled, the holy power within him stirring again.
Sanctifying a deacon or nun cost twenty points, but sanctifying a priest required fifty points.
Fortunately, the Bellobello Church had already started accumulating faith power from the
moment the statue of Jesus was sanctified.
[Accumulated holy power: 73 points]
He didn't need to use his own power, drawing directly from the church's stored holy energy to sanctify Markalov Dreyar.
The church's accumulated holy power dropped by fifty points in an instant.
Markalov Dreyar felt something new within him, an unknown force that warmed him throughout...
To everyone else, he radiated a pure, heartwarming holy light.
This burst of holy light filled their vision, bright enough to make Markalov Dreyar's figure disappear within it.
But a few seconds later, everything returned to normal, as if the scene had never occurred.
"It's done."
Bishop York's voice rang out as he retracted his hand and asked,
"Markalov Dreyar, how do you feel?"
Everyone turned their gaze back to the kneeling Markalov Dreyar.
Markalov Dreyar wasn't sure how to describe it; he simply stated in plain language,
"Bishop, it feels like I've gained some strength, and there's a warm energy inside me…"
"Yes, that's the true power of a clergyman." York smiled, looking at Markalov Dreyar with approval and satisfaction in his eyes.
Indeed, he had the potential and qualifications to be a bishop.
The amount of holy power needed for sanctification was fixed, but the power the sanctified person could wield depended on their own capabilities.
After all, not everyone is the same; among humans, there are geniuses and mediocrities.
Like Markalov Dreyar before him, he used fifty points of the church's holy power for his sanctification.
But the gain and reward were eighty points of holy power.
Why he could draw from the church's stored holy power was because the church itself was sanctified with his power.
Similarly, he could also access the holy power within the priest he had sanctified.
Feeling the eighty points of holy power that had emerged in Markalov Dreyar, York still stood with his hands behind his back.
"Rise."
In that instant, Markalov Dreyar felt an irresistible force lift him up.
He instinctively wanted to resist, but then he remembered what Marcos had said.
"Yes, Bishop."
Markalov Dreyar bowed his head in respect, feeling only obedience and reverence in his heart.
York's expression unchanged, he patted Markalov Dreyar's shoulder and continued walking forward.
"First, get familiar with your own power, and then you can learn the related skills."
"Yes! Bishop." Markalov Dreyar responded.
Listening to the reply from behind, York had already taken a step forward, looking at a virtual display others couldn't see, thinking of something.
"Tomorrow, we'll open the Bellobello Church, and Markalov Dreyar, you'll be in charge of the related sacramental ceremonies."
At the Pluto Church, these days of performing sacraments were wearing him out.
Markalov Dreyar's heart tightened, a bit nervous, looking at the bishop's back, wanting to say something, to refuse, but in the end, he just opened his mouth and replied,
"Yes! Bishop, I will be ready."
"…"
Then a group of colleagues came up excitedly, giving him encouraging looks.
"Good job, Markalov!"
"Keep it up!"
"…"
Each colleague spoke softly, then patted his left shoulder, passing on their support and encouragement, then continued following the bishop.
Markalov Dreyar watched from behind, looking at the leading, mountain-like figure, and the series of figures under that shadow, and he couldn't help but smile bitterly.
Who knew he was already feeling nervous now?
"It seems even more nerve-wracking than when I was driving out the corruption…"
Markalov Dreyar took a deep breath and caught up.
"I'm going for it!"
Markalov Dreyar, now the church's second clergyman, thought to himself.
___________________
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