"Is the Holy Light Church still doing this pointless propaganda?"

In the outskirts, quite a distance from Hepa Town, new flyers were fluttering down from the sky, still those poorly printed by the Holy Light Church, clearly mass-produced.

If these low-quality flyers can attract followers, other church missionaries might as well drop dead from exhaustion.

Matilda glanced at the falling flyers and casually summoned the Spiritual Body from Hell's March to destroy them one by one.

Though flyers aren't really threatening, having them land in Hepa Town daily is quite annoying. Furthermore, it's a challenge to air defense, so patrol teams outside Hepa Town have learned to shoot down the Magic-guided Flying Birds that drop flyers, intercepting these absurdities.

Of course, Matilda wouldn't personally come out for such a boring task. She was just out for a walk, checking on the patrol team's performance.

Today's patrol duty was assigned to the Sword of the Dark Moon. Technically, Matilda knew most of these people, but in reality, she only recognized a few familiar faces. The rest seemed unfamiliar, likely because she hadn't bothered to remember the new recruits lately.

But she vaguely remembered a few newbies, like those particularly brawny local adventurers. The leader among them was named something, something...

"Martin, wasn't it?"

"You called me?"

Martin from the patrol team straightened up to look at Matilda, carefully holding a stack of flyers in his arms, looking a bit comical.

"It's nothing. Why are you picking up that stuff?" Matilda shook her head.

"No toilet paper left, this stuff is barely usable." Martin flashed a simple smile, which looked more like he was picking up gold rather than flyers.

Looking back at those who also switched from local adventurers in Scameroon to the Sword of the Dark Moon, they all seemed quite fond of paper.

"...." Do they usually not use toilet paper?

Matilda felt that complaining about such things was out of character, so she changed the subject.

"I heard from Tusi that you guys work diligently in the Dungeon. Keep it up, and Gwendolin might commend you for it."

Martin gave a wide, honest grin, like a simple worker.

Why don't you respond....

Matilda found communicating this difficult for the first time, almost wanting to give up, but she added one last thing:

"I remember you have a good relationship with two others and often act together, right? Why are you the only one here?"

Upon hearing this, Martin quickly stopped his silly grin, his eyes flickering as he replied:

"Ah, them? Henry went into the Dungeon, and Jack is over there digging traps. They're more active than me."

Matilda nodded, left a "Good work, keep it up," and turned to leave.

As her figure finally moved away, Martin breathed a sigh of relief, patted his chest, and continued to pick up the paper on the ground.

They could keep some of these flyers, but they definitely couldn't spread them. Scameroon seemed to have poor paper-making capabilities, so even these flyers were considered decent by the locals.

But Martin wasn't keeping them for toilet use, at least not entirely.

He looked at the words on them.

The flyers were filled with clichés, like how the great Holy Light God's army defeated heretics again and where miracles were displayed, using grandiose and flattering language to diminish the rebel army to nothing.

These completely untruthful flyers had no reading value, serving only to feed the rebel army with crap.

But he noticed a function that neither Matilda nor Fingerley could have imagined.

"I see."

As Martin wandered with the patrol team through the outskirts, reading the flyers, he nodded slightly, thinking to himself:

There are actually fools who have faith in the Mad Fire, ignoring the Abyss to worship such a thing. I'm embarrassed to call him a comrade.

The Holy Light Church flyers said nothing about "Mad Fire," but he read that implication between the lines.

I might know the identity of that fool; he's technically my senior. Didn't expect he'd reach senility. Couldn't reach him before; thought he died in the Yanor Kingdom, and Lord Priest even kindly made him a gravestone.

Are we supposed to find a way to contact that fool? Stop his Mad Fire preaching?

How could we possibly do that? He doesn't even have communication tools and seems to be deliberately hiding. How would we make contact?

Martin's mind was racing as he glanced at Jack, who immediately came over, took a flyer from him, and read it through.

"An idiot, right?" Martin asked.

"Definitely an idiot," Jack nodded.

"Whoever believes in these flyers is blessed all their life," the clueless patrol team member chimed in.

"The Abyss is obviously the most terrifying."

"Indeed, the Abyss is the strongest."

They both said at once.

"But I think the Crimson Corruption is pretty formidable too," the clueless patrol team member continued trying to join the conversation, but seeing no one respond, he wisely walked away.