Otto was resting comfortably in the windmill inn at this moment, while the Fat Priest left behind in the church was having a much harder time.
“Ouch!
Don’t hit the face!
I’m a priest!”
“We’re hitting you, you devil!”
Under the “exorcism” of an angry crowd, the Fat Priest’s brain was forced to operate at a high speed beyond its limits.
When a person is being beaten, their potential is always infinite.
While rolling around on the ground holding his head, he quickly pieced together the truth of the matter from the cacophony of angry curses shouted by the crowd.
Yesterday, he had scattered money in public!
Yesterday, he had shouted that he received a revelation from the Lord!
Yesterday, he even swore a poisonous oath in public: If he ever tried to rake in money again, it would mean he was possessed by the devil!
Everyone could beat him to death!
Holy crap!
The Fat Priest was completely dumbfounded.
Did he believe in the Lord himself or not?
He knew best.
He became a priest purely to rake in money reasonably and logically!
What kind of Lord would be so freakin’ idle and mercifully come to block his path to wealth?
But thinking about this now was useless.
Seeing a big man raise a mud-covered long bench about to smash it down, the Fat Priest burst out with the strongest note of his life.
“Oh!
Great Lord!” The Fat Priest suddenly raised his voice, bursting into a shrill, dry howl.
He suddenly flipped himself up from the ground, raised his hands toward the sky, and shouted, “Praise You!
The demon that occupied my body has finally been driven away by Your holy radiance!
The demon has left my body!”
This shout was full of emotion and expression.
Many of the surrounding civilians brandishing clubs were startled by his sudden move, and they successively stopped the actions in their hands.
But a large majority of the people didn’t buy it at all, and the shoe soles in their hands still greeted his body just like before.
Nonsense!
You just said the demon left, but you didn’t mention the main point at all!
What if you, old fellow, took the excuse to get down the donkey and stood up to ask for money again?
Seeing this posture, the Fat Priest’s brain spun extremely fast, and he immediately understood the crowd’s demands.
He hurriedly raised his voice and continued to shout: “Oh!
Damn it!
That detestable demon just now actually wanted me to take back the money bestowed upon the people!
It is simply unforgivable!
That was bestowed upon you by the Lord, and no one can take it away!”
At this, the entire hall instantly quieted down.
The big man holding the bench silently put down the weapon, and the auntie holding the manure scoop also nodded in satisfaction.
The few guards who led the charge earlier immediately put on a pious expression and crossed themselves on their chests: “Oh!
The merciful Lord has once again saved His straying apostle!
The devil was indeed beaten away by us!”
Hearing this, the crowd threw down the “magic tools” in their hands and uniformly began to praise the almighty Lord, while taking the opportunity to praise themselves for their meritorious service in exorcism just now.
The baton has strength, exorcism has warmth [facepalm]
Lying on the ground, the Fat Priest outwardly praised the Lord with snot and tears, while inwardly greeting the eighteen generations of ancestors of this group of people.
After this group of “righteous men” left the church with satisfaction, the Fat Priest managed to climb up from the ground with difficulty, rubbed his aching old waist, and spat a mouthful of bloody saliva heavily onto the ground.
“Bah!
A bunch of ungrateful wretches!”
The money was gone, and he had been beaten.
How could he swallow this insult?
The Fat Priest didn’t dare stay in the church long, fearing that someone might feel the exorcism wasn’t thorough enough and return.
He hurried back to the backyard without stopping, found a set of ordinary hooded coarse cloth clothes to change into, covered his ghastly face tightly, and then quietly slipped out through the back door, heading straight for the main castle where the lord lived.
In the Middle Ages, although the priest did not have military power, he still had some face in front of the lord.
Since these crafty scoundrels dared to rob his money, he had to make the lord dispatch troops to take all the money back!
Bearing his injuries and pain, the Fat Priest finally dragged himself to the entrance of the main castle.
Hearing him report his identity and after it was reported upward, the lord agreed to grant an audience.
However, according to the rules, he had to be searched before entering the door.
Two guards stepped forward and roughly patted down the Fat Priest’s body.
The Fat Priest was already covered in injuries all over.
Being pressed like this made him bare his teeth in pain.
He almost wanted to curse out loud, “You blind dogs, be lighter,” but associating it with yesterday’s grand scene of the whole city collecting money, the words on the tip of his tongue were abruptly swallowed back down.
What if this guard also collected my money yesterday?
If I curse him now, wouldn’t I be exorcised again?
After finally enduring the body search, the Fat Priest was led into a spacious hall.
The lord of Tintagel Castle was sitting squarely on the high main seat, toying with a silver goblet in his hand.
Naturally, he had long heard of the priest’s “feat” of scattering money in the square yesterday.
At this moment, looking at the Fat Priest’s battered and bruised state, which looked as if he had just been taught how to be a human in turn by a dozen strong men, he raised his eyebrows with interest.
As soon as the Fat Priest entered the door, he skillfully crossed himself, praised the Lord, and then impatiently cut to the chase.
“Merciful Lord!
You must uphold justice for me!” The Fat Priest said with a crying face and tears in his eyes, “That was not any revelation from the Lord yesterday at all.
I was possessed by a demon!
That demon controlled my body and distributed all the church’s property to those crafty scoundrels!
And amongst that was even a portion of the taxes originally prepared to be offered to you!”
“Please, My Lord, immediately dispatch guards to collect that money back house by house!
Those are all the devil’s conspiracies!”
The lord sat above, quietly listening to the fat man finish his words.
Collect it back?
The lord sneered inwardly.
The money had entered the pockets of those poor ghosts.
If he sent troops to forcefully grab it now, what if it drove them to desperation and caused a city-wide riot?
To plunge the entire castle into turmoil for your dead fat self?
Although the lord hadn’t studied any modern economics, he knew the principle that stability overrides everything else.
Besides, let others suffer rather than oneself, what did his bankruptcy have to do with him?