Chapter 117: A Sermon Turned Storytelling

“Can you stop calling her that?”

Nanaya looked puzzled. “Huh? What are you talking about?”

Jijige set down her utensils and said calmly, “I’m talking about you. Whatever happened between you two, at least show Little Meng some basic respect.”

“Respect…”

Nanaya tried to argue, but Jijige cut her off icily. “Calling her a ‘scumbag’? But I don’t see Little Meng doing anything wrong. From recent behavior, you’re the one who looks more like a scumbag.”

“Fine…”

Nanaya lowered her head reluctantly, letting out a few muffled sobs.

Like a victorious rooster, Jijige looked down at Nanaya. “Admit it. You’ve never really seen Little Meng as an equal. You treat her like trash!”

“Hah? Isn’t that going too far?”

Nanaya knew she was in the wrong, but being called out so directly was too much.

“But no matter how you look at it, your attitude toward Little Meng is worse.”

A strange stalemate fell between them. Menglinna couldn’t help but interject, “Hey, can you two stop arguing?”

But her attempt at mediation backfired. It reminded them that since the person in question was right here, they could just use Menglinna’s opinion to settle the matter.

“Little Meng, don’t you think this saint candidate is annoying?”

“Sister Meng, don’t you think this person is hypocritical?”

Pressed from both sides, Menglinna felt her tongue tied. Choosing either side would betray the other. Speaking seemed like a guaranteed loss.

So, Big Meng Teacher’s choice was—

“I’m done eating. Oh, I just remembered something. I’m off!”

Menglinna grabbed her tray and fled.

****

A sermon was a solemn affair—at least in Jijige’s eyes.

Clergymen stood at the pulpit, preaching the deeds of the gods to the ignorant masses, kindling the flame of faith in their hearts. It was the most sacred act imaginable.

But in Yaan, a place without strong religious fervor, these sermons were treated by adventurers as nothing more than storytime.

“And so, the kingdom of the gods was restored!”

Jijige finally finished that section of the story and breathed a quiet sigh of relief.

As the church’s bishop, she had to personally deliver the sermon. But it wasn’t what she had imagined. This was supposed to be an impassioned episode of the gods reclaiming their kingdom. Even if the audience wasn’t moved to tears, they should at least applaud.

Instead, the adventurers below cracked sunflower seeds and asked lazily, “And then?”

One even directly questioned, “If the goddess is omniscient and omnipotent, why would she keep this dark history of being imprisoned? Did she sell out to the enemy inside?”

The rabble’s reactions completely caught Jijige off guard. Their questions were bizarre. If strictly enforced, she’d have to summon the Inquisition.

But this was a city of non-believers. The words probably weren’t meant maliciously.

Jijige comforted herself and forced what she thought was a gentle smile.

But that smile only riled the adventurers further. “What’s that smile supposed to mean? Is the god really that weak? Or do you admit your lie is falling apart?”

Fine. No desire for debate. Jijige heard in their words only a craving for a pure fight.

Sensing Jijige’s distress, Menglinna—the culprit in a sense—stepped forward and explained, “Everyone, please calm down. The god is certainly omniscient and omnipotent. She only pretended to be weak to deceive the enemy!”

Seeing it was their old friend, the recognized master of storytelling, the adventurers calmed down a bit. Only a few persisted, “If the god is all-powerful, why pretend to be weak? Why not just blow out the usurper’s brains?”

Unfazed, Menglinna replied calmly, “The god has seen many such people. She knew that person only wanted to make the kingdom better, so in her mercy, she spared them. But that person became irreverent, and the god cast them into hell.”

“Oh, that’s the lore?” “Gotta write that down. New material for fan creations…”

The chatter was noisy, but the credibility of the sermon was no longer questioned.

Jijige couldn’t help but look at Menglinna. Though her words seemed somewhat irreverent, they had successfully diverted the rabble’s attention.

After the crowd dispersed, Jijige sought out Menglinna. “I appreciate you saving me back there, but please don’t spread any disrespectful words about the goddess.”

Menglinna waved it off like a joke. “Ah, the goddess is busy. She doesn’t usually respond to this stuff.”

In her past life, Menglinna had produced plenty of vulgar fanworks about the goddess, and the goddess herself had never complained. So as an empiricist, Menglinna thought it was no big deal.

“Even if it’s true, it’s not okay!” Jijige slapped the table. “It’s a matter of principle.”

Menglinna sighed and lowered her head. “Fine.”

“But since you helped me out, I’ll let it slide this time.” Jijige suddenly stood and bowed to Menglinna. “Separate issue—I am truly grateful for your help.”

“It was nothing!”

After all, Menglinna was the one who had turned the sermon into storytime. If possible, she hoped Jijige never found out.

For a traditionalist like Jijige, a priest telling a story from the pulpit and then everyone applauding was more in line with her idea of a sermon. If she knew Menglinna had turned it into a story circle, who knows what she’d do?

But Menglinna’s humility took on a different meaning in Jijige’s eyes.

“Little Meng, you seem very modest,” Jijige said, licking her lips. “To be honest, I really like girls like you.”

📚 Also on NHV Novels

At the Master’s Will

Dominant TopObsessive TopPolite Top

Read Now →
Not interested