With a gentle glance at Andre standing to the side, he smiled: "Andre's thinking is absolutely correct. Until we possess an overwhelming advantage in strength to effortlessly crush our enemies, we must endure, we must learn humility. The bitter lessons of our race’s history teach us this: we must be cautious, cautious, and then cautious again! Our enemies are not just the Monks; there are also those vile Dark Creatures, who are our irreconcilable foes!"

As he spoke of the Dark Creatures, Zyth’s eyes flared red. He could never forget the bloody clash between the Angelic race and the Monks of Heaven Star, when those Dark Creatures, reeking of foulness and stench, suddenly materialized from an alien dimension and, without distinction, attacked both warring sides! Those foolish creatures, knowing only how to slaughter, spent a long time treating the Angels as delectable prey once they discovered that Angelic blood could rapidly augment their power! If the Dark Creatures hadn't interfered, perhaps the Angelic race wouldn't have suffered such a crushing defeat? A defeat so absolute it left them without hope of recovery for what felt like eternity! Shaking his head, Zyth smiled and cautioned all the high-ranking clergy, including Gullit I, "The Angelic race is great, they are invincible, but our enemies are also formidable, and their evil power must not be underestimated. The Angelic race currently possesses an extremely diluted bloodline; they cannot afford too many losses, so all their actions must be cautious!" "Until we have absolute certainty of destroying the enemy, all probing actions must cease! The suffering Angela and the others have endured is the best warning for us!" Finally, Zyth addressed the Curia: "Seek opportunities, accumulate strength, and absolutely do not act rashly. Without absolute assurance, you are forbidden from revealing the strength we now possess!"

"Yes! Your will is our will!" Gullit I, Andre, Anfite, Angela, and the other clergy members bowed in obeisance.

Zyth gazed with satisfaction at these devout believers... no, not merely devout believers. After these followers were infused with the Angelic Holy Blood Zyth brought, they became kin to the Angelic race. Although their lineage was somewhat thin, the Angelic bloodline possessed miraculously wondrous attributes; the blood within their bodies would gradually grow stronger. Given enough time, the once immensely powerful Angelic race would once again stand at the pinnacle of the cosmos! If Zyth was given sufficient time, the Angelic race would surely restore their former might.

The thought of the Earth Federation’s fifty billion population made Zyth tremble with excitement—Time. Give him time, give him enough time! Just as he was envisioning the bright future of the Angelic race, several panting priests rushed in: "Great Lord Zyth, Venerable Majesty, Cardinal Esenhamor of the Three Spirits Cathedral in Paris sends urgent aid! A band of wicked Dark Creatures is pursuing him and a devout believer sheltered by the Curia!"

Dark Creatures, pursuit, a Cardinal, a believer! Zyth, unaware of the Curia's specific regulations, roared madly: "Wicked Dark Creatures? They must be utterly destroyed!"

But Gullit I, who understood the Curia's system of protection, had his eyes light up. He quickly inquired, "A believer significant enough to compel Esenhamor to personally intervene for their protection? What is the reason?"

Truly worthy of being the current Pontiff of the Curia, Gullit I cut straight to the core issue: a believer requiring the personal protection of a Cardinal must possess immense value. A Cardinal is not a mere bodyguard like the mercenaries hired for mundane tasks; not just anyone warrants a Cardinal’s intervention! A priest respectfully reported: "That believer is willing to donate one hundred billion in cash to the Heavenly Father to aid the Curia's followers. Furthermore, he possesses an extremely vital piece of Roman intelligence!"

One hundred billion in cash? None of the clergy present paid attention to such trifling sums, which were less than useful even for the most mundane necessities to them.

The vital Roman intelligence? Intelligence sought by the Alliance of Gods' elite forces to the point of raiding a cathedral? The value of this intelligence far surpassed that paltry one hundred billion cash! The force required to drive a Cardinal to abandon his own cathedral and flee in haste implied they were absolute elites within the Alliance of Gods; the value of this intelligence could thus be imagined.

Andre leaned toward the puzzled Zyth and explained the intricate clauses of the protection system, analyzing the critical implications for him.

Zyth’s eyes brightened. He folded the six wings on his back and boomed, "Then, let us go and rendezvous with that... Esen..."

Andre quickly supplied, "His Eminence Esenhamor!" Zyth roared with laughter, "Then let us hurry to meet Esenhamor! Three minutes later, a large contingent of Curia elites surged forth. Three heavy assault barges, flanked by numerous magnetic levitation chariots, sped toward the group fleeing Paris toward the Vatican.

In space, two military satellites belonging to the Federation locked onto the small fleet. But when the officials in Military Intelligence clearly made out the Silver Cross insignia on the warships, they immediately directed these two satellites and all nearby surveillance instruments far away.

Seventy kilometers north of the Vatican, beneath rolling hills carpeted with olive trees, a ferocious battle had just erupted on a four-lane highway beside a winding stream.

Over two hundred lean soldiers clad in camouflage uniforms were systematically besieging a group of fifty-odd robed clergy. These clergy, armed with various light and heavy firearms, fiercely defended a small knoll, utilizing the advantageous terrain to engage the two hundred soldiers in a noisy, spirited fight. Both sides employed heavy weaponry, including anti-tank missiles. The occasional stray shot striking the nearby hills sent large olive trees tumbling into the air, scattering countless fragments as they rained down.

To the west of this fiercely contested knoll, amidst an olive grove of trees older than thirty years, a horde of Minotaurs and Werewolves were gleefully hacking at about twenty Church Knights, whose robes were stained crimson.

What was meant by "gleefully hacking" was that the Knights present were merely defending passively, relying on their heavy shields, reinforced with Holy Power defenses, to arduously fend off enemy attacks. Meanwhile, the Minotaurs and Werewolves, free of any reservation, formed a tight crescent formation with their battle axes and longswords, hacking down upon the encircled Knights as if they were mere vegetables.

Amidst the clang and clang of metal on metal, the Church Knights constantly coughed up blood. The enemy's strength was simply too overwhelming; even the internal organs of these elite Knights were being violently shaken.

A Dark Mage in a black robe stood on a small nearby rise, sneering as he rallied the Minotaurs and Werewolves. The moment a Church Knight showed the slightest lapse in concentration, the moment the Holy Power shield covering him exhibited even a tiny flaw, a dark spell would immediately strike. These dark spells, layered with various negative effects, did not directly inflict wounds but severely sapped the combat effectiveness of the Knights. Any Knight struck by a dark spell grew weak, like a brute exhausted by a woman, and was immediately cleaved into mincemeat by a flurry of heavy axes and greatswords.

About two kilometers south of this group of desperately resisting Church Knights, within a small river valley, Cardinal Esenhamor was struggling, panting, against the combined assault of two Dark Mages.

Gu Yuru stood behind Esenhamor, trembling like a newly hatched chick, screaming until his voice was hoarse. He clung tightly to Esenhamor’s thigh, repeatedly shrieking: "Great Bishop... I’ll pay more! I’ll give you more money! You must protect me... you absolutely must protect me!"

Gu Yuru’s hands scrabbled and clawed at Esenhamor’s legs. Esenhamor, while desperately maintaining his tottering Light Shield and continuously launching powerful divine spells at his enemies, also had to fend off Gu Yuru’s clumsy advances, feeling momentarily as if he were swarmed by flies.

Angrily kicking Gu Yuru to the ground, Esenhamor hissed, "Shut up! This is already Curia territory! Reinforcements are coming any moment!"

As if to contradict Esenhamor’s words, three bolts of black lightning descended from the sky, shattering his Holy Light Shield into dust.

Esenhamor cried out, hastily pulling out a scroll radiating potent Holy energy fluctuations. He looked at the nine pure white feathers inscribed on the scroll with heartache, gritted his teeth, and tore the scroll open.

The 9th-level area-of-effect defensive spell, 'Holy Angelic Guard,' activated. A column of white light, several kilometers thick, poured down from the heavens. Nearly a hundred Angels, their forms glowing with pure, light-attributed energy, slowly descended from the sky, their radiant wings beating. Nine Angels encircled Esenhamor, forming a formidable protective array. The remaining Angels hovered behind each Church Knight and cleric, thick white armor firmly enveloping them.

Holy Power flooding their bodies, the Curia clergy erupted in joyous cheers! The Church Knights, who had been relentlessly hammered by the Minotaurs and Werewolves, suddenly felt their strength surge. They shouted in triumph and launched a counterattack. This sudden influx of power caught the encircling Minotaurs and Werewolves completely off guard. Several leading Minotaurs had their battle axes knocked away, and the Church Knights scored deep gashes on their bodies, sending gouts of blood spraying far from the usually robust brutes.

The clergy armed with firearms became even more audacious, leaping up to fire back at the enemy a hundred meters away.

Anti-tank missiles striking their bodies only made them stumble once; large-caliber grenades couldn't even make them flinch; bullets from large-caliber sniper rifles barely managed to raise a ripple on their Holy Light Armor before vanishing without a trace; ordinary bullets couldn't even shake the thick layer of Holy Light Armor.

A single 9th-level defensive divine spell swiftly turned the tide of battle. The counterattack launched by Esenhamor's subordinates struck down one Minotaur, seven Werewolves, and over eighty of the elite soldiers within just two minutes.

The two Dark Mages besieging Esenhamor let out sinister chuckles. Instead of launching a frantic assault, they dissolved into streams of black smoke and retreated several hundred meters backward.

Esenhamor watched the enemies who had relentlessly pursued him with suspicion, his hand tightly gripping an 8th-level single-target attack spell scroll, daring not to relax his guard.

Um... without floods, without sickness, without any trouble at home, the Pig Head honestly howled, "Moon tickets!!!"