The Outcast Heiress's Secret Identities - Chapter 182 - 0 Just try it and you will find out

“The more the Holy See supports me, the more it means I am doing the right thing. The more the heretics oppose me, the more it means I am doing the right thing.”

“If even the heretics praise me, it proves that I did the right thing. If the heretics don’t say a word, it shows that I did something impeccable!”

“If the Holy See opposes me, it means that they have degenerated into evil heretics. The more the heretics oppose me, the more it means that I have done the right thing.”?

In 681, Ansu, the youngest Pope in the history of the Holy See, was crowned Holy Pope. He delivered a speech and gave important instructions for the subsequent de-deification work. Pope Anzu emphasized:

“And now both the Holy See and heretics are against me, which just shows that I am on the right path!”

…

685 years.

“It’s not that the evil god can’t be summoned, but it’s more cost-effective to choose him to take the stage.”

Sylvia, the former Saint of the Demon Tribe, commented this way.

As soon as these remarks came out, they instantly aroused the attention of all walks of life – the large-scale documentary “The Legend of Pope Anzu” will continue to be broadcast for you.

——

This is the story of a top evil player speeding through a fantasy world.

- Description from novelbuddy

Xie Tao had always believed in science until one day, a meteorite smashed into his yard, forcing him to bind to a heroic world saving script. The worst thing was that the script didn’t even follow common sense.

Ethan's head throbbed violently as he opened his eyes, his vision hazy and unfocused. A dull ringing filled his ears, drowning out his thoughts.“What’s happening…?” he thought, his mind sluggish, struggling to catch up with reality. One moment, he was asleep—or at least, he thought he was—and the next, searing pain forced him awake.His vision swam, shapes blurring together in a disorienting mess. But then, muffled noises filtered through the haze—frantic, panicked sounds. Someone was trying to scream, their voice smothered, choked by something.A cold shiver ran down his spine.As his sight gradually sharpened, Ethan's breath hitched.He was on all fours, looming over someone. A girl.Her body twisted and writhed beneath him, ropes biting into her wrists and ankles. Her mouth was gagged, muffling her cries. Her wide brown eyes, brimming with fear and fury, glared up at him.Ethan's body locked in place, his blood running cold.“What the…?” His mind reeled, thoughts slamming into each other in chaotic disarray. “What kind of bizarre dream is this?”Panic clawed at his chest. His breath came in ragged, uneven gasps as he scrambled backward, only to realize his limbs felt sluggish, uncooperative, like they didn’t belong to him.“Is this… is this some kind of twisted fantasy I never knew I had?” A sickening thought slithered through his mind, making his stomach churn.The girl's frantic squirming slowed for a moment, her gaze flickering with confusion as she took in his expression—his trembling hands, his wide, horrified eyes. But the fear returned just as quickly. She struggled harder, her body arching, her muffled screams rising in pitch.Ethan wanted to speak, to say something, anything, but before he could force out a word, a glowing blue window materialized before his eyes.His breath caught.A translucent, hovering screen?“What…?”Lines of glowing text scrolled across its surface.---[System Activated…][Host Confirmed.][Simulating Previous Data…]Ethan awakens in a mysterious world, shackled by a curse that clouds his judgment and drives him toward choices he never wished to make. Burdened by guilt and responsibility, he must navigate the fallout of his actions while unraveling the truth behind the curse—and his place in this enigmatic new reality.

It was understood that this was a capitalist country, where the possession of the greatest amount of capital determined to whom the nation effectively belonged.The smile that had been resting on William Sheffield’s face was abruptly erased as his expression turned cold. In a tone laced with determination, it was demanded by him that the police be contacted immediately so that they could crush those who stood in their way. The reasoning behind his words seemed clear: if such actions had been taken before by someone like Rockefeller, then why should it not also be possible for Sheffield?A sense of irony hung in the air as the sentiment was expressed—this was America, where each day seemed to unfold as though it were part of an ongoing shootout, with battles fought not just with guns but with power, influence, and wealth.