This is a world that devours people.
Literally devours people.
As Norton's dizzying mass ended and the blessings were completed, he saw two large cauldrons set up at the church entrance.
The aroma of cooking meat wafted from the pots. Though he couldn't clearly see what was boiling inside, the pile of blood-stained, tattered clothing stacked nearby made it easy to guess what was in there.
The savory scent attracted a large crowd of ragged beggars.
But the contents of these pots weren't for them.
Today was the weekly mass celebration, and of course the cathedral would be serving extra rations.
Norton used to love Sundays because the weekly mass meant he could eat meat instead of the usual black bread and thin porridge.
But starting today, he felt he no longer liked it.
Though it was unclear whether they genuinely believed in God or simply wanted God to grant them everything they desired.
Their eyes burned even more fervently than Father Mia's, perhaps because they had pinned all their hopes on God.
Listlessly, Norton followed the missionary procession standing behind Father Mia, mechanically murmuring the "Baptism" text in preparation to receive God's blessing.
His eyes stared blankly ahead, clearly lost in his own world again.
"This won't do. This damn world is too difficult to navigate. This damned church treats people like livestock!"
Norton's eyes remained fixed while his mind raced with thoughts.
Twenty years of imprisonment, cannibalism, and all sorts of deadly rules where any mistake could mean death - these constraints wrapped around Norton's neck like a noose that might suddenly tighten and hang him at any moment.
No matter how much he thought, he couldn't see any way out.
Should he emulate Zhang Jiao and declare "God is dead, long live Norton"?
But he knew he couldn't accomplish such great deeds. He had no special skills, hadn't learned any professional abilities in these twenty years, and had even forgotten most of his previous life's memories. Now he was just as useless as the other missionaries raised by the church.
Norton gained some clarity. He hadn't understood before why the church kept them like this, but now it seemed likely it was to turn them into obedient fools who only knew how to follow orders!
This way the church would always have a group of completely loyal believers.
It appeared the higher-ups in the church weren't as incompetent as he'd thought. Of course, the most likely scenario was that these people came from generational succession, different from missionaries like them who were raised in captivity.
Norton's gaze fell upon Father Mia, still vigorously preaching at the podium, further confirming his suspicions.
After the previous priest of Holy Lord Cathedral died of old age, the new priest wasn't chosen from within the cathedral but was directly appointed by the archbishop overseeing the region, parachuted in from outside.
So it was likely that at the priest level, they were already true inner members, different from tools like them produced on an assembly line.
A chill ran through Norton's heart.
He had originally thought this so-called cathedral and Papal States were merely paper tigers, but now it seemed they likely had their own operational system.
That made rebellion considerably more difficult.
While he was still lost in thought, the mass atmosphere reached its peak.
"Father! May Your radiance shine upon..."
Father Mia's aged voice grew increasingly passionate, his "Father" referring to God Caesar.
As the priest's words concluded, the surrounding missionaries immediately sprang into action.
Some fetched bowls, others ladles. All the missionaries of Holy Lord Cathedral formed orderly lines, each receiving a bowl of the boiled broth from the pots.
As a newly promoted missionary, Norton naturally received this honor. He cautiously followed at the end of the line, holding a small bowl with trepidation.
He certainly didn't want to eat the meat. The pile of ragged clothes nearby made it clear this wasn't anything good cooking in the pots.
But not eating wasn't an option either, because this was God's blessing. The church knights watching from the sides had ominous glints in their eyes - anyone who dared reject God's blessing would be branded a heretic and cut down by greatswords!
Norton didn't want to be disposed of, so he could only try to take as little as possible.
Even eating during mass had its rituals - group prayer was required before the meal.
As the newest missionary, Norton remained at the very end of the line, fighting nausea as he joined the collective prayers, his eyes fixed on the broth in his bowl.
The soup's surface was covered with a layer of oil, emitting a rich, fragrant aroma.
Dried bones definitely couldn't produce such greasy broth...
"May God's..." The prayers continued endlessly.
The surrounding missionaries each wore faces of fanaticism, though whether it was genuine or feigned was unclear. Given their twenty years of isolated lives, it was likely genuine fervor.
The prayers dragged on slowly, continuing until the meat broth turned completely cold before finally concluding.
Then, led by Father Mia, all the missionaries raised their bowls.
Feeling the cold gaze of the church knights behind him, Norton closed his eyes in resignation.
In this moment, a sudden illusion struck him.
He wasn't really different from the food in the pots - just with different labels.
"Gulp... gulp... ugh..."
The overwhelming meat fragrance filled Norton's mouth. His stomach greedily absorbed the proteins and fats so rarely obtained, but his psychological discomfort completely overwhelmed him.
Perhaps this was his only difference from the other meat - he possessed a soul that had experienced modernity.
And this was the manifestation of impurity.