Saint Monica's gaze was profound.
Her slender and graceful figure bathed in the moonlight appeared even more elegant and noble.
Standing against the wind, even motionless as the night breeze swished her skirt, she exuded an aura that commanded submission.
Only her eyes, clear and bright as gems, devoid of their usual gentleness, nobody knew what Lord Sect Master was pondering at that moment.
With the previous Church Venerable's departure, the Holy Daughter's resignation, and the Saint Heir's death, Saint Monica had purged Florence's remaining influence in the Church with methods that were not harsh but decidedly effective - either eliminating those clergy loyal to Florence or forcing them to submit.
Now, in the Earth Mother Goddess Sect, Saint Monica held a position that no one could shake.
"Lord Sect Master, it's very late, you should rest," a nun appeared behind Saint Monica and gently reminded her.
