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"It's hard to say; perhaps they have some hidden strategy to turn the tide of battle," Chen Xuanfeng mused, "waiting for us to gather at the foot of Saint Spirit Mountain so they can wipe us out in one decisive strike and then seize the opportunity to reclaim the western continent. Isn't there a tale of a human kingdom reduced to just its capital yet managing to repel the besieging forces with a surprise assault and thus regain its country?"

"That's a scenario unique to humans," another voice countered. "Can you imagine our orc army's morale collapsing due to an unexpected surprise attack? Most human soldiers lack the resolve to face death calmly in battle, always looking to sacrifice their comrades to save their own skin. So when they are in formation and under command, they hold together, but once command and order break down, they panic, especially when someone starts to flee, the entire army descends into chaos. Even seasoned elite troops can seldom avoid this fate. But our orc army is different; our formations and ranks are designed not to embolden the faint-hearted but to restrain the overzealous. If our ranks are broken, the result is not a retreat but a frenzied charge forward."

Such discussions occasionally arose among the staff, and Chen Xuanfeng too was lost in thought.

Turning the tide in desperate situations is not an uncommon strategy. In the history of his previous life, during the Spring and Autumn period, Yue Yi led his forces against Qi, reducing it to just three cities, but at the last moment, Tian Dan deployed a fire oxen formation and completely reversed the situation. Similarly, Fu Jian of the Former Qin, despite his overwhelming numerical advantage, suffered a dramatic defeat at the Battle of Fei River, leading to the loss of his entire kingdom. In this world's war history, similar instances abound, but... does Saint Spirit Mountain truly conceal such a game-changing power this time?

While the orcs were speculating, countless priests on Saint Spirit Mountain were working intensively. Streams of radiant holy light continuously infused a colossal magic array spanning the entire Saint Spirit Mountain. Various crystal cores and magical minerals were carefully selected and sorted, then placed into different locations. The mages also tirelessly added spell runes to various buildings and sealed them with special potions. If any orc were to witness this tense, silent bustle, they would undoubtedly reassess the danger of the impending battle as several times greater.

In the great hall at the center of Saint Spirit Mountain, however, it was empty. In the past, whether it was a gathering of believers or a meeting of priests, this place would always be filled with hymns and people. But now, not even guards could be seen here. Suddenly, a golden magic array in the center of the hall flashed with a white light, and several red-robed archbishops appeared out of thin air. Clearly, they had used some form of spatial teleportation.

Along with the red-robed archbishops, a white-robed cardinal also appeared. He bowed slightly to the archbishops and said, "Your Excellencies should already be aware of His Holiness's will. As the great battle approaches, I ask that you all give your utmost efforts to create a miracle here, for the glory of the Light God."

The archbishops hurriedly replied in unison, "All glory to our God, justice, light, and victory are always with us."

Watching the red-robed archbishops file out of the hall, the cardinal sighed slightly, pressed the holy emblem on his chest, and silently recited a prayer. The magic array on the ground immediately glowed again, instantly teleporting the cardinal to his destination.

Underneath Saint Spirit Mountain, the former "Sevenfold Lock Prison," used to store the treasures of the Holy Temple, the first four levels of the underground palace had undergone a dramatic transformation. Walls and iron doors had been dismantled, and the space had been opened up vertically and horizontally to form a massive three-dimensional space. Various huge magical devices and instruments were connected into a network, spread throughout every corner of the space, with vast magical and divine powers flowing through them, occasionally flashing with various colors of light.

At the core of this space, a multi-layered, three-dimensional magic array was quietly operating. In front of the array stood a slightly hunched old man, dressed in a white robe with golden patterns, wearing a multi-tiered crown. He was the current Pope—Paul VIII.

When the cardinal emerged from the teleportation array not far away and silently walked behind the Pope, Paul VIII's seemingly statue-like calm demeanor finally changed.

"Are they... panicking?" the old man asked in a slightly hoarse voice.

The cardinal bowed and replied, "There is no panic. All bishops and archbishops are steadfast believers, firm in their faith, and unafraid of sacrifice."

"That's good," the Pope nodded slightly. "But to be on the safe side, you must continue to observe carefully. After all, the battles ahead will be extremely arduous, and even the slightest change could lead to significant losses... so, be very careful."

The cardinal nodded, "Yes, Your Holiness." Then he added, "Now that Your Holiness has been granted boundless divine power by the Light God, even if the vile 'White-Haired Demon Lion King' were to be reborn, he might not be able to breach Saint Spirit Mountain. I think Your Holiness need not worry so much."

"Haha, the 'White-Haired Demon Lion King'? Such an existence is not for us to speculate upon. Even if a Seraph were to descend in person, victory would not be guaranteed... Fortunately, he is already dead." The Pope's voice carried a mix of relief and melancholy, then he continued, "Perhaps... I am the most incompetent Pope in the history of the Holy Temple, leading the believers of the Light God to such a dire state. Yet they have not abandoned their faith, and thus I have become the most powerful Pope in history... Oh God, how can I cleanse my sins and repay the grace of light..."

"Your Holiness..." the cardinal was also at a loss for words.

Paul VIII slowly turned his head, looking at the core of the three-dimensional magic array ahead. There, a crystal human skull was slowly emitting a vast, boundless divine power of light, gentle yet unceasing, like the ebb and flow of ocean tides.

"Great Prophet, you were able to carve out a sanctuary for humanity in an era dominated by orcs. Now, I hope I can forge a path of light in this desperate adversity."