Foreign Land Reclamation By a Vegetable-growing Skeleton

If the Undead wished to pass, they had to seize this place. Thus, a war that lasted for over a thousand years began. What was initially the front line, the Land of Fallen, was combatively converted into a diocese, where a Red Bishop was stationed. After a thousand years, countless bishops had been replaced, and the current Red Bishop was named Dyson.

Although it was an independent diocese, Dyson’s position could not compare to the two major dioceses in the Master Plane’s east and west sides. As everyone put it, this place was like being with a mistress – poor, far from home, harsh conditions, and bad treatment.

Being far away from the curia, away from the power center, meant they couldn’t seize any benefits and had to shoulder any blame. Talents were unwilling to come, and those who came were unwanted elsewhere, either lazy and incapable or insubordinate.

Like Julian, who often acted independently that even Dyson couldn’t control him. He claimed this was: the freedom within the shadows…

Dyson dreamed of being relocated. He didn’t want to die here. If he couldn’t get himself reassigned while still young and become a strong competitor for the Pope, he could only retire if he returned when old.

Therefore, he worked hard…

“I’ve worked so hard, only to end up like this. Why? Why?! Anthony was clearly dead, why did he revive and become so much younger? What a ridiculous divine favor! Would I not know about the so-called divine favor? He must have used some wicked magic to become what he is now!”

Dyson roared in fury. And before him, a projection of an Undead, a demon’s projection. If Ange could see this projection, he would recognize, isn’t this the demon from outside the Black Mountain Kingdom, goading the pest control master?

The Undead and the demon remained indifferent in face of Dyson’s rage. They conjured a table and two chairs. Sitting down, they picked up the tea and pastries on the table and began to taste them casually, occasionally smacking their lips and giving comments.

If it wasn’t for the pitch-black dungeon, and if they weren’t the projections of an Undead and a demon, this would seem like a leisurely afternoon tea time.

Dyson knew what these two were trying to convey. Wasn’t he also playing the part? Seeing that they were not moving, he reigned in his angry manner and snapped his fingers.

Behind him, two saintly dressed in pristine white carried a table and placed it in front of him. A third saint brought over a high-backed velvet chair. They poured tea, set up pastries, performed a silent salutation, and retreated.

At this scene, the tea and pastries conjured by the Undead and the demon suddenly seemed less appealing. The Undead flipped his hand and scattered those illusions, drifting over to the table.

Now it was Dyson’s turn to be unflustered, as he elegantly tasted the afternoon tea and pastries.

The Undead helplessly said: “If you managed to assassinate him once, you can do it again. What’s there to fear? Killing him will solve all your problems.”

It turned out the culprit behind the initial assassination of Anthony was Dyson, not Nikola.

“That’s easier said than done. Anthony will no longer be alone like before. How many men do I have to assign to kill him? Plus, before, Nikola was the scapegoat for me, now if he were to get assassinated again, the whole world would know it was me.” Dyson retorted impatiently.

Of course, if only he had gathered sufficient intelligence. If he knew that Anthony had sneaked off to the Elf Forest just recently, he wouldn’t have said so.

“So what if they know? The current situation is different from before. If you can eliminate Anthony now, Guiliani wouldn’t blame you. On the contrary, he might even credit you.” The Undead said.

“What you said makes sense, but what about manpower? The previous assassination took a heavy toll on me. Facing Anthony who’s now on guard, I need at least multiple times the strength from last time.” Dyson finally revealed his intention.

The Land of Fallen’s archbishop wouldn’t possibly be unable to control his own emotions and rant. Everything he did earlier was a performance, pressuring the other party to offer him more support.

To assassinate Anthony again, his own strength was insufficient. It wasn’t safe to choose from the Church. Presently within the Church, those who idolized Anthony were numerous, especially after Anthony put forth that slogan: Purify the Light, Reshape the Church.

In today’s Church, whoever had even a bit of faith could feel the Church’s corruption and degeneration. If they were not powerless, relied on the Church for wages and benefits, and had a large family to support, rebellion would have risen long ago.

Anthony’s Sacred Church gave church officials from the Western Region and the Land of Fallen an alternative, a way to first be independent, then remodel the Church from the outside in.