The chasm that lay before Horn, desiring to cleanse himself of connections with the devil, was the dualism of the Holy Demon.
In the Miserian Religious World, everything is either sacred or evil; if not evil, then sacred.
There is no middle ground.
If Horn does not occupy the high ground of faith, then the Knight will.
So, the best way for Horn to cleanse his identity is to attach a sacred title to himself through the spectacle of resurrection.
However, unfortunately, Horn is semi-illiterate.
Besides the Three Holy Gods, he knows little about other mythological figures available in the Miserian teachings of this world.
Since this is the case, he can only forge a connection with the Three Holy Gods.
Yet, in doing so, Horn faces two significant problems.
First, why would the Three Holy Gods resurrect an insignificant nobody like him?
If he knew the specific deeds, perhaps Horn could weave a more seamless story.
But although Horn is literate, literacy in this era does not necessarily mean access to or the ability to read the "Gospel."
The "Gospel" is written in Elven, and Horn learned Falan, focusing on accounting-related Falan.
He knows only a smattering of words and can recognize just a bit.
The Priests deliberately monopolized the ordinary people’s access to the "Gospel" text, allowing the church’s reach to seep into every aspect of ordinary life, yet leaving commoners largely ignorant of the deeds and concepts of the Three Gods.
This is essentially in pursuit of absolute freedom in scriptural interpretation.
This resulted in Horn being a believer who knows little about his own god.
If his proposed reason for resurrection contradicts the teachings, it could lead to a major disaster.
The only saving grace is that the only legitimate Priest Kosse present, a former butcher, can barely write his own name.
He doesn’t understand Elven, let alone Falan.
Besides, with the floods raging, even if he comes up with something counter-doctrinal, who could verify it in the short term?
Second, if he is resurrected by the Three Gods, how should Master Knight, who beheaded him, react?
Even with resurrection, Horn still lacks self-defense capabilities.
Even if he occupies the high ground of faith, if Master Knight, in anger or shame, decides to disregard everything and labels him as the devil, slashing off his head again, Horn truly has no means.
He wouldn’t want to gamble on a second resurrection.
The strongest warrior besides Barnett, Jeanne, in the village has fallen, and Horn cannot find another to contend with the Knight.
Barnett dares to oppress the farmers present so arrogantly because he’s confident there will be no one to rebel.
This is the confidence that extraordinary abilities bestow upon Master Knight.
However, this does not mean that Master Knight can truly take on a hundred singlehandedly.
Barnett is a Knight of the three-tiered breathing technique, not as exaggerated as the legendary Great Knight at this stage.
At least when facing bandits, Barnett still needs to rely on the manor’s walls for defense, as the number of bandits is at most fifty.
Even if the villagers can’t fight fifty-on-one, they can surely delay Master Knight, enabling Horn to retreat into the forest.
Something is better than nothing, right?
The only problem left for Horn is how to exploit the ignorance and superstitions of the villagers to incite them.
It so happens that the Thousand River Valley area is the most superstitious about miracles and relics.
When the ancestors of these Thousand River Valley people, including Horn, migrated here, they worshiped the Miserian Personalism sect.
Even now, it remains the region most fervent about "offering auspicious signs" and "discovering miracles."
They firmly believe that by doing so, they can cleanse the fact that they are descendants of blood slaves.
Summarizing all factors with the existing information, the path before Horn is now singular.
A path once proven feasible by the East King of the Taiping Heavenly Kingdom, Yang Xiuqing.
But, what works in one’s homeland, will it surely work here as well? Can it truly fool these villagers?
Feeling the scorching gazes, Horn gritted his teeth.
He had already stood here for about ten seconds, and signs of restlessness were emerging in the crowd; he couldn’t delay any longer, or he’d miss his chance.
As thoughts raced, Horn, adopting a beast-like mindset, made a resolve.
Mad, go for it, like treating a dead horse as if it were alive!
Today, I’ll show you the ultimate version of mind confusion!
On the hill where only the sound of rain could be heard, Horn’s sudden loud shout startled everyone.
Horn, who had stood still with closed eyes, finally moved.
He abruptly jumped three feet into the air, his once solemn and serene face turning ferocious.
Before the villagers could react, upon landing, Horn began to convulse as if struck by electricity.
Foam oozed from his mouth, his eyes rolled back, his head swung wildly side to side, and he let out a continuous stream of meaningless cries.
"Oh ah ah eh eh ah ah oh oh ah ah eh eh——"
Bellowing erratically, Horn stamped his feet recklessly.
In the villagers’ eyes, Horn appeared to be stepping forward, yet his entire body moved backward.
Witnessing this scene, someone even fainted on the spot.
Others remained fixated, the flush of excitement lingering on their faces.
"Whoa yeah yeah yeah——"
Horn’s peculiar shouts erratically rose and fell, alternating between ten-note E6 and hoarse throat sounds.
Mumbling unintelligible words, he suddenly veered to the side and performed a set of lively shocks and lightning whips.
Then, with a turn, his upper body formed a Chinese character, his lower body a sash, stamping the ground madly as mud and water splattered around.
Once he leaped, he became wild, entranced, spiritedly stomping like a downpour.
In the rain, without music, without a stage, a menacing-faced youth was performing a ridiculous dance, accompanied by distorted cries unaligned with his movements.
Around him, over two hundred villagers, young and old, poorly dressed, unbeknownst to when, unconsciously swayed with the youth’s random movements.
The youth clenched his fist fiercely, prompting a villager to spontaneously shout out.
The youth lifted his leg again, sparking a chorus from several more villagers.
The chorus grew louder and more frequent.
When the youth’s cheeks twitched like Zhao Si, they chorused.
When the youth rolled his eyes and spat, they chorused.
When the youth simulated the small engine air poke, over two hundred of them chorused with mountain-crashing fervor.
They had no idea why they were chorusing, nor what was happening, or what the chorus meant; they simply chorused.
What began as several voices grew to include even the armed farmers at the back, joining the joint roaring chorus.
It was as if they had returned from the middle ages to the wild, tribal ages.
Each solemnly raised their hands, singing broken, out-of-tune hymns amidst the choruses, focusing their fervent, fearful, and expectant gazes on the youth frantically jabbing thin air.
"With gratitude to Saint Father Baine, bestow upon me body and mind, All hail the merciful Saint Master, joyful to cleanse my sinful flesh."
As the chorus reached a climax, Horn, who had been sticking out his tongue, tilting his head, and convulsing like in a seizure, smoothly stopped.
The trembling arms instantly steadied, lifting in a grand salute, legs straightened like an oversized Chinese character.
The awe-struck villagers immediately fell silent.
Pausing for a couple of seconds, calming his heartbeat and emotions, Horn gave a sudden jerk, startling everyone before he slowly opened his eyes.
He tucked his hands behind his back, showed his eyes slightly, drooped his jaw, and forcefully etched two nasolabial lines on his face.
Using all his strength, Horn mustered his most dignified expression.
Imitating the fortune-telling old man at his alley’s entrance from before, Horn directed his solemn gaze at an empty slant above.
Avoiding eye contact with the crowd, exerting every ounce of energy, with a hoarse and deliberately mystifying voice, he proclaimed loudly:
"I, am the Holy Father!"