CHAPTER 538: CHAPTER 516: SAINT SUN’S ARMY AND THE NOBLES’ ENVOY

"Clack!"

The curly-haired young man rasped, hobbling out from under the shade of the tree, pressing the tin-made trumpet against the face of the middle-aged citizen:

"You are playing the role of a reformed thief, which means he started out as a villain. You can’t be so kind-hearted and benevolent; you need to be sly and deceitful, so that when he is moved by the orphans, it’s truly touching.

Your words are weak, your actions lack precision, your steps are disorderly, your expressions are dull - none of it is convincing. Do you still dream of acting?"

Sprayed with saliva, the citizen playing the Nameless Monk nodded timidly, daring not to speak against him with only anger in his heart.

Fuchev, who was acting opposite the middle-aged citizen, furrowed her brow: "Florza, watch your words."

As a former renowned stage actor, Florza’s skills were indeed substantial, only his temperament was too irritable and sensitive.

The handsome young man named Florza glared at the middle-aged citizen: "If I weren’t mute and injured, I’d never let you play this good role."

"Florza!"

"Understood, understood, Miss Fuchev." Dragging a limp leg, Florza walked back to the shade.

"Try to grasp it yourself first; I’m going to speak to your Lord Valent Taylor." Seeing the shadow of a carriage appearing at the mountain pass, Fuchev calmly told the actors and headed towards the camp gate.

The Black Hat Army veteran previously hiding in the shade, Sote, who was also Fuchev’s bodyguard, immediately picked up his sacred gun and followed Fuchev.

In the narrow mountain gap, seven or eight large carts were dragging cargo covered with tarpaulin towards this small village in the mountain hollow, or rather the Saint Sun’s Army camp.

Dozens of Saint Sun’s Righteous Soldiers, clad in various armors and with black-and-red flags inserted into burlap bags at their backs, followed alongside the carts.

Among those escorting the carts, only one person lay on a carriage, leisurely humming a song.

"Mr. André."

"Good afternoon, Fuchev." With a wide grin, André, the Vice Pope of the Saint Sun’s Army, reached out to touch Fuchev’s head, but she dodged.

Fuchev glared at André with a frown: "Don’t touch my head with dirty hands; have the new rotating officers arrived? Is there any news from Your Grace’s side?"

After restoring the order in Rapids City, Jeska, considering the overall strategy, applied to Horn for support for the Saint Sun’s Army.

The application quickly gained approval from the Imperial Cardinal Conference, sending a large amount of food, medicine, and officers, while the injured and women and children accompanied carts carrying iron ingots back.

Aside from food and medicine, Horn also focused on the dissemination of truth, namely the propositions of the Holy Path and the Salvation Army’s doctrine.

As a former farmer, he had a deep understanding of the spiritually deprived world of farmers.

This was a time lacking in entertainment; for commoners, the greatest entertainments were sex and gambling.

Farmers’ lives were often incredibly dull and tedious; they lived in an illusory world composed of the carefree and shameless Demon Hunter, handsome righteous Knights, and beautiful daughters of wealthy farmers.

But such a spiritual world clearly did not match reality and couldn’t deeply penetrate their lives and hearts, merely serving as comfort.

Although Salvation Army’s artistic works were rather crude and rough, they had one characteristic: absolutely relevant to reality, deeply rooted in life.

If Horn didn’t occupy the spiritual world of farmers, the Church certainly would.

Thus, on Fuchev’s own initiative, she and two others formed a micro-theater troupe to perform so-called truth dramas here.

The repertoire included the tragedy "The Promised Celestial Island," the drama "Pseudo-Jealous Durdafe," and the comedy "Saint’s Grandson vs. the Bishop."

Sure enough, these extremely crude dramas were loved by countless people at the dozen or so strongholds of the Saint Sun’s Army.

Their propaganda effect was extraordinarily terrifying; every time after a play, letting a few Noble Knights be beaten by farmers on the spot could lead to immediate conversions of a dozen or twenty.

André even joked once, saying despite all the hardships they’ve endured, their words were not as cheerful as Fuchev’s applause.

After verbally sparring with André, Fuchev noticed Valent Taylor, in blue attire, supporting the carriage while approaching, and hurriedly went up to meet him.

"News from the Supreme Pope’s side, saying Ludvik’s matter is still under discussion; they’ve contacted Hotam County’s Monastery several times, but haven’t reached any conclusion yet."

Valent Taylor didn’t have André’s cheekiness; he gently patted Fuchev’s head: "His Grace also mentioned he hopes that during this period we focus primarily on civic issues.

Avoid direct clashes with the Gun Cavalry, instead preach to the displaced groups and provide security, striving to replace the failing grassroots organizations of the Church."

Walking into the camp, Valent Taylor chatted with Fuchev, bringing these precious supplies into the camp.

Jeska’s judgment regarding Hotam County was correct; the Saint Sun’s Army didn’t have the strength to confront the Decree Chain directly, so they could only temporarily avoid confrontation, lying low and waiting for the opportunity.

If it were before, the Saint Sun’s Army certainly wouldn’t be able to lie low because someone would always be coming to encircle them, plus not enough food.

But upon receiving financial aid from external forces Horn, they finally had the confidence to lie low.

As for the rotating officers, it’s because Juer Dan accidentally broke his leg during training, needing a new Chief Instructor.

"No need to find a new Chief Instructor." André patted his chest, "I could be the Chief Instructor after all."

"You?"

With a stern and serious nature, Fuchev naturally rolled her eyes dramatically and chased after the convoy.

"Good afternoon, Miss Fuchev."

"Good afternoon, Lauren."

"Holy Father bless you, Miss Fuchev."

"And bless you, Old Pierre."

All along the way, Fuchev nodded and greeted people, not only commoners but also officers were greeting her.

She was Saint Son Horn’s goddaughter, someone who could freely enter and exit the Saint Son’s bedroom and study, and had three friends in charge of the Night Watcher, Cheka, and the military police respectively.

Even Juer Dan treated Fuchev with a smile upon seeing her.

Those supporting the Saint Sun’s Army weren’t just Fuchev; there were also several Black Hat Army officers, disabled veterans, and monks from the Saint Father’s Association.

Led by the relatively reliable Juer Dan, new officers like Lauren and Lefi were sent here to build their credentials.

Fuchev and Valent Taylor hadn’t walked far before seeing Lauren and Lefi training new recruits.

But due to the restrictions from the Blessed, they could only train basic spear techniques, formations, and discipline for now.

Amidst the resounding slogans echoing in the valley, dozens of young men holding wooden spears marched forward at a barely organized pace.

"Charge, charge!" Upon Lefi’s command while running with the troops, the entire army shifted from a normal pace to a sprint, aiming their spears towards targets at the end of the parade ground.

Passing these soldiers running in unison, André briefly quieted, then spoke: "Your Godfather is truly a genius."

André wasn’t being sarcastic when he said this.

He was born into a military family in Falan, with his uncle being a Hired Knight; he followed his uncle to battlefields since he was twelve or thirteen.

In André’s view, what these officers boasted as precision marching and resolute will was nonsense.

There were hundreds of ways for him to achieve those things.

The truly valuable part was the regulations Horn and Jeska summarized from their experiences, compiling all military knowledge.

This was a standardized manual, even a fool could systematically train to become a good soldier.

Moreover, everyone was trained from the same template, using the same command system and orders, with specific indicators on how to run and where to run to.

Commanding on a battlefield like this, André could describe only as exquisitely smooth.

"Are there many nearby patrols lately?"

"Patrols are few; the Gun Cavalry passed by a few times but didn’t discover us." The responsible sentry lowered his voice, "But we only discovered a noble’s spy this morning; he tried sneaking in and was caught by us."

Sure enough, it was inevitable; Valent Taylor and André exchanged a look: "Bring him over."

By nature, training this loudly would certainly be discovered by patrolling Church Soldiers.

Yet during this period, the allied noble forces hadn’t harassed them, making Valent Taylor paranoid.

While André was frequently going out, even risking heading to Feiliu Castle to gather intelligence, he always claimed to know nothing when asked what he found.

Fuchev and these two Western Border Guardian Pope sat in the simple cottage for seven or eight minutes before seeing a battered merchant-like man, hands and feet bound, pushed inside.

"Who dispatched you as a spy..." André suddenly sternly questioned but was cut off by the merchant’s protests.

"I’m not a spy; I’m an envoy, an envoy... I’m an envoy sent by Lord Somboli of Stone Wall Town; I’m here to negotiate peace with you."