The dogs in the village barked once.

The others followed suit, barking.

Instantly, the whole village was filled with the sounds of dogs barking.

But those dogs had no idea why they were barking.

Logan Channing stood up and shouted, and the entire Funeral Alliance echoed along.

Applause was endless.

But few people knew who the Seventh Emperors were.

What exactly was the existence of the Seventh Emperors?

Furthermore, was the Pope really mad, or genuinely pretending?

Just an elderly man at the end of his life could suddenly become middle-aged, showing the Pope was indeed extraordinary.

"Quiet!"

Looking at the people clapping falsely below, the Pope extended his hand, indicating everyone to stay silent.

"I now doubt, are you really the Pope."

At this moment, an unusual voice came through.

This was a voice of questioning!

Questioning the Pope at such a time instantly garnered many supporters.

After all, the Pope was already an elderly man at the end of his life.

How could he be so young?

From what they knew, the Pope had lived at least three to four hundred years.

Even a top Great Grandmaster should have died.

"I've heard among Pendleton's Seven Veins, there's a vein called Night." The Funeral Alliance member who stood up to question stared at the Pope: "The leader of Night is called Night Fairy. It's said Night Fairy is the Thousand Faces Spirit, capable of disguising as anyone!"

"I've heard it too!"

"With this said, the Pope must prove himself."

The members whispered among themselves, discussing.

Today's events were too sudden, too unexpected.

Many people couldn't accept it.

"If you are really the Pope, please prove your identity!" The Funeral Alliance member speaking pointed at the much younger Pope on the podium: "Or hand over the real Pope!"

"Yes!"

The Coffin Church suddenly plunged into chaos.

"Prove myself?"

The Pope pointed at himself, suddenly laughed: "Ridiculous! In those days, those masters dared not let me prove myself! Johnny, you, a brat I picked up and nurtured from childhood, dare to make me prove myself?"

Upon finishing these words.

He lightly tapped his toes, soaring into the sky!

In just the blink of an eye, he arrived before Johnny.

Snap!

The Pope's right hand shot out, directly clutching Johnny's neck, lifting him high!

Then!

He opened his mouth.

Whoosh!

A flame actually erupted from the Pope's mouth!

"Ah..."

Johnny issued a hysterical scream!

But soon, it turned into a puddle of ash.

The Pope bent down, grabbed a handful of ashes, and tossed it into his mouth.

The entire place fell dead silent.

Not a sound from the crowd.

This human refining technique, so far, only the Pope could accomplish.

Even among the Funeral Alliance's funeral team, not one person could achieve it.

"Is there anyone else who doubts me?"

The Pope turned and walked onto the podium.

No one dared speak.

This move unfolded, confirming without a doubt that he was the Pope.

Throughout the world, no second person could perform such a technique.

"If no one doubts, then I'll mention a few things."

The Pope beckoned to Logan Channing, and this young beauty immediately stepped onto the stage, holding a wooden board.

On the board, there were several knives.

The blades were entirely pitch black, without a hint of brightness.

"Bring them up." The Pope calmly spoke, and immediately, several followers carried up two bound people.

These two were quite odd.

Their skin was very white, extremely white!

A bit spooky in its whiteness.

"Who can come up and kill them?" The Pope propped his hands on the wooden table before him, gazing at the audience: "Present here are the elites of my Funeral Alliance. I sincerely hope you don't disappoint me."

"I'll do it!"

Whitaker Dog stood up, spinning a small dagger in his hand.

He could see that those on stage were from the Undead Tribe.

And the nemesis of the Undead Tribe was precisely this small dagger in his hand.

Last time during the mission at Boulevard Mountain, the Pope issued each member of their team such a dagger.

Logan Channing even received dual blades.

Of course, this girl didn't let the Pope down, severing one of Han Caldwell's arms at Boulevard Mountain!

To this day, Han Caldwell hadn't recovered.

"You, sit down!"

The Pope pointed at him.

"What's wrong?"

Whitaker Dog scratched his head, picked his teeth.

The ash eaten outside hadn't been refined, getting stuck in his teeth.

"Do you want to become like Johnny?"

The Pope asked in return.

With this query, Whitaker Dog obediently sat down.

"I'll do it!"

Another person raised their hand.

This time, the Pope didn't stop them, but turned around, pointing at those two: "Kill him."

"As you command!"

The man grabbed his weapon.

It was a Luoyang shovel!

Very sharp!

The man, carrying the Luoyang shovel, under the watch of hundreds of eyes, approached the two bound individuals.

Made a circle.

Carefully observed.

Trying to discern any signs.

"Kill?" The man found it hard to believe.

"Without beheading, kill him." The Pope nodded.

"Not joking, Pope?" The man was a bit skeptical: "Today's attendees are all your confidants! Let alone killing ordinary people, even killing Grandmasters and Great Grandmasters, we could accomplish. But you..."

He pointed at the bound man: "Shouldn't we release him?"

"Kill first, talk later." The Pope was calm.

Also very patient.

"Okay, it's not difficult."

The man lifted the sharp Luoyang shovel, directly stabbing into the chest of the bound Undead Tribe warrior!

Crunch!

Ribs snapped!

The heart was directly chopped into two sections.

"Pope, the person is killed." The Funeral Alliance member pulled out the Luoyang shovel, puzzled as he asked: "Forgive my offense. What do you mean by this? Killing a defenseless person, isn't it dull?"

"Look! That person isn't dead!"

"Still alive! What's going on!"

"Oh my God!"

Many felt surprised.

Only Whitaker Dog and few others were unusually calm.

Damn it, truly Undead Tribe.

The location of the Funeral Alliance was somewhat remote.

Many people here basically never interacted with the outside world.

Similarly, the ones interacting with the outside, collecting money, expanding influence, soliciting business, were bottom-tier people.

Ordinary people.

These masters had only two tasks.

Spend money, spend money.

They trained daily at the secluded Funeral Alliance headquarters, isolated from the world.

Except for Whitaker Dog's funeral team, which was often dispatched by the Pope for missions, the rest knew nothing about the outside world.

Much less the so-called Undead Tribe.

"What! What are you saying?"

The man holding the Luoyang shovel thought he misheard.

He turned around, amazingly discovered the guy was still alive!

"Impossible!"

Clang!

The Luoyang shovel fell to the ground.

Moments later.

The man picked up the Luoyang shovel, again stabbed!

The one he struck struggled more fiercely!

The interior of the church became silent.

Evidently, this challenged everyone's understanding.

Boom!

Another stab with the shovel.

Still not dead!

"Is there anyone else who wants to try?"

The Pope looked at the people below.

No one came up.

The man with the Luoyang shovel was already quite capable, if they went up it would mostly be the same result.

Couldn't kill.

"Let me introduce everyone."

The Pope pointed at the Undead Tribe man behind him: "This is the strongest force outside. They call themselves... the Undead Tribe. But actually, look."

The Pope picked up the flying knife Logan Channing was holding and casually tossed it.

Directly impaled in the Undead Tribe's heart.

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