Chapter 1151: Final Yan (6)

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Lord Moliere, the god-selecting leader, left the gyroplane and walked down the ramp of the belly with firm steps. Then he took off the helmet and took a deep breath.
The air was full of pollutants, smoke and heavy corruption, and the Lord of God chose to smile slightly, showing his mouth full of fangs.
Since the opening of the Brass Gate, there have been great changes here.
Over the past week, he has been busy defeating other New California Republic troops away from the city to ensure that no other military forces around Dunwich can fight back against the blood worship plan.
And since the signs of the apocalypse appeared, the New California Republic has raised the jihadist banner everywhere. Although there are still dozens of resistance blocks scattered throughout the Republic, there is no single force that can pose a real threat.
This country is completely over, and it is only a matter of time before it is fully invested in the embrace of the blood god.
He walked down the staircase of the tarmac and noticed that the surrounding scene had changed dramatically compared to a week ago.
Even Dunwich Cathedral not far away has changed a lot.
The minaret that once carved the outline of the fortress was demolished and replaced with spiked iron pillars and numerous corpses on it.
Moliere saw many skinless enchanters perched among the corpses. These malicious monsters screamed and fought each other for the best habitat, and tore the corpses on the iron pillars, spilling their internal organs. Everywhere.
The fuchsia pattern covered the church's originally flat, gray walls, and Moliere was pleased to see that the walls of the promenade he passed were painted with blood and painted with the symbol of the great blood god.
At the end of the passage, he nodded to the guards standing on both sides of the towering glass door, and then walked through them into the large, gorgeous terrace.
Thira, who looked down on the city below, didn't seem to notice his arrival.
Moliere walked to the patriarch's side and bowed his head.
After a while, Thira put his hand on his head.
"Blessings of the invincible blood bless you, my lord, stay flat, you have completed my request and returned."
There are no doubtful elements in his words. After all, for Moliere, there is no need to return unless he has completed his assignment.
"No resistance around Dunwich can interrupt our preparations, sir."
Mo Lie said in a deep voice:
"I also brought back nearly half a million slaves into the project."
"Very well, the residents of this city are so weak that we consume more than 10,000 people every day."
"The unbelievers are weak all the time."
Molie scornfully replied:
"In the future we will defeat the coming Oak, just as we defeat the sad resistance of the unbelievers."
"I believe you are correct, we will crush these unbelievers, after all, they are very weak when alone, right."
Thira said thoughtfully, his eyes drifting towards the expanding vortex, a towering brass gate in the center of the vortex was gradually forming.
"But when they are united, this is not the case. Only through provocation can we weaken them, so we need to continue to spread the sect... When the unbelievers fear the enemies from their cities, they will be vulnerable. "
"I understand, lord, but I don't think the new elder understands this."
"Ben Lear does not need to understand that he is the marshal of the Holy Blood Army and can perform his duties perfectly."
After the conversation began, he turned his unfathomable gaze to Moliere for the first time.
"You know, it was his actions of betrayal against unbelievers that brought more than one million slaves and the whole ceremony."
Thira said softly, watching the Lord of God carefully.
"He is, always, more important than you."
Moliere tried to stay calm, but his jaw still clenched gently.
He saw bad taste in Thira's eyes, and seemed to enjoy making himself uncomfortable, just as he had always done in the church.
"You are still ashamed, right?"
Thira asked cruelly.
"I have always been able to replace him, if you will give me a chance."
Thira smiled softly, cruelly and ruthlessly:
"We all know that is a lie."
Morrie clenched her fists, but did not refute his patriarch.
If there is a person who can make him fear more than piety to the blood god, then only the man who does not seem to be strong in front of him is a man who can always keep everything in his hands.
Moliere was involved in seven rebellions against the Patriarch, and all his co-conspirators died, only he remained alive.
Because Thira seemed to enjoy his frustration, and after the seventh defeat, Moliere also realized that there was no point in opposing the other's bad taste, so he completely softened.
But this does not allow him to completely get rid of each other's ridicule.
Sometimes he also wondered why such a treacherous person would become the messenger of the blood god. Shouldn't this position be held by the most brave warrior?
The blood god's preferences are sometimes strange.
"Come."
Thira placed a strong hand on Molière's weather-shouldered shoulder armor and turned him to the rainy city.
"It's beautiful, isn't it? The cornerstone of the first circle of the gate has been laid, the blood sludge has also been sprinkled, and the death of 88,888 pagans has sanctified the land... the gate will break through Skyrim, please the blood and turn the world upside down."
Then he turned to Molière and climbed his lips with a hungry smile.
"The time is approaching, the red star is getting closer, the pillar of shouting rises, the sound of the earth screams, and the destruction and death will be placed in the holy cellar.
Mori frowned, these sentences did not exist in any chapters of the great works of blood worshippers, nor were they written by the patriarchs of the past.
As God’s chosen lord, he was asked to worship the blood Bible like any priest.
In addition to killing in the name of the blood god, or assisting the priest to guide the believer's soul, he spent his time studying ancient writings-in addition to ritual confession, self-lashing, and contemplation.
However, he never heard the motto quoted by Thira.
"This is not recorded in the Blood Cellar Library."
Thira looked at Moliere with a mysterious smile;
"This proverb is only included in one place, a book that does not exist in the world."
Moliere felt that his frustration had increased.
"A large enemy army is gradually advancing."
Suddenly, Thira narrowed her eyes and hissed.
"They are at our feet, but I can feel that a terrible legion is crossing the waves of the vast ocean... they will arrive soon."
"Why don't you let us attack their underground passage, or we can seal them underground."
"No, I don't want precious forces to risk in meaningless battles."
"The battle against the enemy is by no means meaningless!"
Moliere growled:
"Blood God will not tolerate cowardice!"
"Hush-dare to talk to me in that tone again, I will dig out your beating heart from the chest, and then feed the dog in front of you."
Thira raised her index finger in front of her lips and looked at the other person softly.
Morrie stared straightly at each other's eyes, and finally could not bear to bow down.
"Forgive me~EbookFREE.me~Sir."
"Of course I forgive you, poor Moliere."
Thira put her hand on the head of God's chosen lord.
At this moment, Moliere suddenly felt staggered, and Thira also withdrew her hand.
Moliere had felt the same feeling many times before, but this was the strongest since he left the battlefield in Dunwich.
This was the roar that would only be produced when the heavy artillery and rockets swept through the earth, just like the aftermath of an earthquake, and it also meant that Oak's long offensive offensive was about to begin.
Thira turned to look at the ruins of the city, and at the border of his sight, a lot of shining clouds were blooming, and Moliere also stood up.
"The enemy is here."
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