Chapter 41: The Organization Has Chosen You (Part Two)

“Where did I get it? I inherited it from a demon-hunting nun who was persecuted to death by your people,” Samimi lied without blinking—after all, her eyes were covered.

Truthfully, the old nun had left her this Demon-Slaying Sword. While it wasn’t very practical, it was more like a form of identification.

Those old warriors who had survived the Blood Demon era all recognized and respected the Demon-Slaying Sword.

“Wait, let’s talk this through. Put the sword away,” the old paladin stepped in as the peacemaker.

“What is there to talk about?” Samimi snorted coldly.

“We never said we were going to kick you out. This place remains yours. Even if you go for training, you can return regularly. No one will take your home or your possessions,” the old paladin quickly explained.

“Fine, deal.” Hearing that, Samimi was satisfied and immediately sheathed her sword.

Her sudden change of attitude stunned the two paladins!

They quickly realized this was just a dramatic bargaining tactic—they’d been thoroughly played by this so-called penitent nun.

“I’d like to see your new magical powers,” said the purple-robed bishop.

“I refuse. If a mage has awakened a secret talent, the fewer who know, the better. Sashafa blabbing about my powers to the Church—what a wonderful little sister,” Samimi said with sharp sarcasm.

“How dare you! Do you even know who this esteemed person is?” the younger paladin interrupted again.

“Of course I do,” Samimi smiled slyly. “Lady Machima, isn’t that right?”

That statement stunned both paladins again. Fortunately, they wore helmets, so their expressions were hidden, sparing them from complete embarrassment.

“What are you talking about? This is Bishop Ouli,” the old paladin hurriedly clarified.

“I am Bishop Ouli, responsible for personnel affairs of the royal city’s Church,” said the purple-robed bishop as she slowly pulled back her hood, revealing an elderly face—definitely not the beautiful and holy saintess.

“Hmph. You might fool others, but not me.” Samimi sneered. “As it happens, I’ve recently been studying the art of doppelgängers. Otherwise, I might’ve been fooled by your little trick, Saintess.”

As she spoke, the book holstered at her waist unlocked on its own and floated into the air. Dozens of rune pages flew out, forming a magical clone of Samimi.

This was a magical double—also known as a doppelgänger technique.

“I wonder how long before I can develop one like yours that can walk on its own?” Samimi asked.

The two paladins were dumbfounded, unable to say a word.

The supposed “Bishop Ouli” remained silent for a long time, still maintaining her cold and dignified aura.

Meanwhile, deep in the Ghalis Cathedral complex, inside a small library…

The real Saintess Machima was gazing into a crystal ball, observing the events unfolding in the Melon Chapel.

She was indeed remotely controlling the magical double. The crystal ball showed the exact scene seen through the clone’s eyes.

“My doppelgänger was actually seen through?”

She couldn’t believe it—Samimi had managed to see through her magic clone?

Her clone was flawless, with no magical fluctuations, more convincing than a real person.

This was her most prized spell. There were fewer than five mages in the world capable of seeing through it—each a legend in the magical world.

Yet a junior like Samimi had seen through it? Unbelievable.

Machima remembered that this girl had once been her apprentice. Her heart clenched with pain.

It should’ve been a joyous moment—if only Samimi were still her student. But now, she couldn’t feel any joy. She had driven the girl away.

From Samimi’s cold tone, it was clear that their master-disciple relationship was hanging by a thread.

Saintess Machima had truly meant to give Samimi a good opportunity—letting her go to the Continental Magic Academy to develop her talents. That was, by all standards, a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

But Samimi had shown no gratitude and even bargained with her.

Machima knew Samimi was clever—there was no way she didn’t understand the stakes.

That left only one explanation…

Samimi simply didn’t like her, didn’t trust her.

The worst-case scenario had come true.

“A saintess hated by the savior… what a pathetic joke I’ve become.”

With that thought, Saintess Machima felt a bitter pain she could only call karma.

Back at the Melon Chapel…

“If you want me to represent the Church at the Continental Magic Academy, fine. But I’m bringing Niubao with me. I want a private dorm, increased funding, and full autonomy. I won’t follow any of your orders. If you agree to all that, I’ll begrudgingly help your Church earn some glory,” Samimi continued to list her demands.

“Penitent nun, don’t push your luck,” the old paladin warned.

“You said there were priests lining up for this? That’s clearly a lie,” Samimi scoffed. “You’ve only got one suitable candidate—wait, no, two. Me, and my sister.”

“…” The purple-robed bishop stayed silent.

Samimi looked at her and smiled. “She’s your prized pupil now, right? Why not just send her?”

“Sashafa is a key Church prospect. I personally teach her magic,” replied the bishop.

“Oh, how nice. I used to be your apprentice, and I barely received any instruction—hardly even saw your face. You must’ve really disliked me. Probably because I was just a charity case foisted on you by a countess. You’ve long wanted to get rid of me, haven’t you?” Samimi’s tone dripped with venom.

“…” The bishop remained cold and silent.

One could only wonder what her real self—hidden behind the clone—was feeling as she listened.

“I accept your conditions,” the bishop finally said, rising to her feet, still composed and regal.

“We’ll prepare the teleportation ritual tomorrow. I need to notify and register your information with the Continental Magic Academy first. What’s the little beastkin’s name?” the old paladin asked.

“Niubao,” Samimi replied.

“Her real name,” the paladin pressed. “Not a nickname.”

“That is the name I gave her,” Samimi scratched her head.

“Has anyone ever told you your naming sense is garbage?” the young paladin mocked.

“Let the Saintess choose a name,” the old paladin said.

“She’s a minotaur kin? Then her name shall be Minotauros Phyllin . Also, add her to the official list of Church nuns,” the bishop interjected, taking initiative—an act of goodwill toward Samimi.

“Alright then, we’ll see you tomorrow,” the old paladin said, jotting the name on the registration form.

With that, the trio left the Melon Chapel.

“Hmm?” After they were gone, Samimi suddenly felt something was off.

That name…

Could it be—!?