Mistaken Match: Marrying the Enigmatic CEO
Chapter 2374; Holy Fire Organization’s Plan
Though the distance was too great, Quintus could still see Mackenzie’s expression, vacant, lost, like she was starting into some distant void, unaware of the world around her.
She slowly released her grandmother’s hand and looked out over the sea of people. Thousands of eyes in Mysticwood were locked on her, filled with unwavering devotion.
They worshipped her, but Mackenzie couldn’t understand why.
She didn’t recognize a single face in the crowd. Hell, she couldn’t even remember her own grandmother. What is happening? How the heck did I even end up here?
“Light the Holy Fire!”
The Great Saint King’s voice boomed, commanding the air itself.
Simu, missing an arm, clambered up the 20-feet high torch with Zolsky. Together, they set the fire alight.
Quintus couldn’t hold back a snicker.
The guy’s recovery was something else, maybe he’d get a chance to lose the other arm too. A little compassion for the handicapped, right?
As the flames soared, the sky darkened into a crimson hue.
The Great Saint King’s voice thundered once more. “The Holy Fire burns bright! The Saintess shall bear its light and bring hope to those who suffer! This fire will spread across the world, and we shall become the divine servants of salvation!”
“Long live the Saintess!”
“Long live the Holy Fire!”
The masses erupted into fevered cheers, their arms raised high in unison.
Quintus couldn’t help but sneer, What a pack of brainwashed fools.
The Holy Fire organization was nothing but a twisted cult, using the Saintess and her power to manipulate the hundreds of thousands of serving their cause.
His gaze shifted, and for a moment, someone caught his eye. In a panic, Quintus raised his arm and joined the shouting crowd, “Long live the Saintess! I love the Saintess! Only the Saintess, not the P-Princess…”
The more he shouted, the more eyes turned toward him.
A cold sweat crept down his spine. He couldn’t stop now. “Long live the Saintess! Long live the Saintess!”
Luckily, the onlookers were just regular followers. They thought he was just another crazy. No one paid him much mind.
With the Holy Fire now lit, the odd rituals began, one after the other.
Quintus had no idea what they were doing. All he knew that the Saintess’ return meant the Holy Fire organization was planning something big.
After what felt like an eternity, the ceremony finally wound down. The common followers scattered, leaving only the higher-ups to move toward a massive building nearby.
That was where the real decisions were being made. Quintus observed from a distance. It was clear there were no factions among them.
One faction stood tall under the leadership of the Great Saint King, flanked by his two formidable guardians. A legion of martial artists and blade-wielding guards stood at attention behind him. On the other side, the Great Saintess led her faction, flanked by two other Saintesses and backed by ten Elders of Mysticwood.
Power was clear as day. The Saintess’ side held the higher ground, both in status and influence.
Quintus knew the game well. The Great Saint King might have command of the Holy Fire organization day-to-day affairs, but he depended heavily on the mass brainwashing of thousands. Without the Saintess’ name, he would be nothing.
And the way the Great Saintess carried herself, her presence alone seemed to eclipse the Great Saint King. Even Quintus, with all his bravado, couldn’t help but feel a flicker of fear when his eyes landed on that ancient woman.
What did she remind him of? Ah, yes. A thousand-year-old witch.
Determined to save Mackenzie, Quintus pressed on, disguising himself as a Mysticwood follower. His plan was simple: slip inside the building, gather information and get out.
However, the security was brutal. The building’s defenses were like a maze, and at the entrance, two guards blocked his path.
“Which faction are you from? What business do you have here?” one of them demanded, eyes narrowing.
Despite being in Southroyal, the Mysticwood people spoke a dialect of Mysticwood.
Quintus, having spent his childhood in Tocvale, could understand enough of the language to get by. “I’m a trainer for the Blackshoot Princess,” he said quickly, his mind racing. “Her figure needs some work. I’ve been helping her shape it.”
It was a shot in the dark. He had no real plan, but it was the first thing that came to mind. The Blackshoot Princess was far too thin in his opinion, nothing like Mackenzie.
“A trainer?” the guards exchanged a puzzled glance.
They were raised in tight circles, never having heard of such a profession.
“Yes, a trainer!” Quintus emphasized, flexing his muscles for effect. “I help her bulk up the right areas and slim down the others!
The guards exchanged even more confused looks.
“Could he be… the Blackshoot Princes secret lover? One murmured.
“I’ve heard she has some… strange tastes.” The other replied, eyes flickering with uncertainty.
The two guards huddled in whispered discussion, their expressions shifting from confusion to suspicion.
Quintus froze, panic rising.
He had expected to be thrown out. After all, he was a combat leader, not a sneaky infiltrator.
This wasn’t his style. Failure felt investable, but to his surprise, the strange story seemed to be working.
He decided to push it further, rising his intensity. His face turned serious as he straightened up. “Hmph! You’d better understand this,” he said, his tone dark. “The Blackshoot Princess needs my help every night. I’m the one who helps her… work through her problems. I suggest you keep this to yourselves, or else…”
The threat lingered in the air as he stared down the two guards, his gaze cold and unwavering.
The Blackshoot Princes, her name alone seemed to carry weight, a shadow of dread in the hearts of those who spoke of her.
In their eyes, she was a figure who could end lives as effortless as drawing breath.
“Alright, you can go in.” one of the guards said, his voice tinged with reluctance, as if afraid of saying no.
The second guard nodded, almost as if agreeing against his will. “He won’t get into the council hall anyway. Doesn’t matter much to us.”
As Quintus passed them, he caught fragments of their whispered conversation. “There’re more guards inside. Doesn’t really matter if he gets in or not, right?”
The words gave him pause. He wasn’t going to risk it any further. At least his skills could get him close enough to listen. Pressing his ear against the stone wall, he hoped to catch something useful from the conversation inside.
And then, voices, clear and deliberate, drifted through.
“We expected Mason to lose the election. But Teddy getting killed before it even started? Didn’t see that coming. And now Ethan… he won. Our plans are in shambles.”
Another voice responded, tinged with frustration. “We were going to split Chanaea with Catherine’s people. But with the Zelinsky and Tanner families gone, we’ve lost all our allies inside Chanaea.”
The mood shifted, darker now. “We’ve pulled our 300,000 troops from the border. If we go to war with Chanaea now, it’ll be suicide.”
Then, a calm, almost chilling voice cut through the tension. “My suggestion is to ally with Eagle Nation. Orunis has contacted me multiple times. They want to work with us. They’re serious about it.”
Quintus froze, his heart skipping a beat. That voice… is the Great Saint King.
He had always believed the man was the supreme ruler of the Holy Fire organization, but he now understood.
Great Saint King was merely its representative. Real power? Someone else entirely.
“I disagree!” came a sharp reply.
The room fell quiet as a new voice, full of conviction rang out.
“The Holy Fire organization was founded with a purpose, to create a powerful nation from Chanaea, to bring light to its people. Our true enemies are Eagle Nation and the Western forces behind them. If we ally with then, we betray everything we stand for.”
For a moment, silence hung in the air, thick and heavy.
Quintus bit his lip, nearly applauding. He hadn’t expected someone in this organization to have a clear head.
It seemed there was some intelligence buried under all the fanaticism.
But then, the Great Saint King’s voice returned, laced with frustration and a hint of menace. “If we don’t do this, we’ll wait another thirty years. By then, half of you will be dead and buried anyway.”
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