A Hospital in Another World?-Chapter 845: The Atonement Ceremony of the Cult of the God of Nature

Count Rossegar, his eldest son, and the major nobles of the county finally appeared in the county city seven days later.

Anxious and travel-worn.

They had rushed from the capital city to the nearest port to Aeolan Island, found a fast boat, whether a fishing boat or a cargo ship, and endured a day and night of turbulence to reach Aeolan.

They borrowed a fast horse from the nearest noble and continued to rush on...

There was no other way! The letter from their hometown was clear. If they didn't return quickly and reach an agreement with the Cult of the God of Nature, they would face the wrath and questioning of both Nevis and the capital's congregation!

The elder from the capital was a level 16! Level 16! Not to mention, they might provoke a hidden legendary figure...

Half-dead from exhaustion, they arrived in the county city, only to be left with the task of signing the agreement, stamping their seals, and...

Participating in the atonement ceremony.

The atonement ceremony of the Cult of the God of Nature wasn't too demanding. Elder Etto said straightforwardly:

"Since you've offended the land of heritage, you must apologize to every oak tree in the heritage land. No problem, right?"

"It doesn't seem like a problem." The leaders of the War God Temple and the Spring Goddess Temple nodded at each other. Apologizing to oak trees was better than apologizing to gods and nature itself—

That kind of lofty and ethereal thing, to what extent would they need to atone? Who knows? Wouldn't they just have to listen to whatever the priests said?

"No problem!" The count's second son, who was also at the negotiation site, nodded repeatedly:

"How should we atone? By offering flowers, sacrifices, burning incense? Should the sacrifices be cows and sheep? Or pigs? Can we use chickens and ducks? Or..."

His cheeks twisted in pain. If Garrett were here, he would definitely diagnose him with "angina, radiating to the oral region":

"Bury a ham under each oak tree?"

"The oak trees don't need those," Elder Etto shook his head slowly:

"The oak trees don't need flowers, incense, or other offerings obtained by harming nature, animals, or plants. All they need is sunlight, rain, and fertilizer."

In an instant, the archbishop of the War God Temple and the high priest of the Spring Goddess Temple almost burst out laughing.

... They'd rather have placed offerings!

In the end, Count Rossegar stood among all the notable figures, staring blankly at the dense oak forest on the hillside.

Beside him were a shovel, a wooden bar, two buckets, a manure ladle, a cart of water, and a cart of manure. 𝗳𝐫𝚎𝗲𝚠𝚎𝗯𝕟𝐨𝘃𝚎𝗹.𝗰𝗼𝗺

"The servants of the God of Nature will guide you," Elder Etto said sternly, facing the count. Not a single crack appeared on his face:

"No blades of grass will trip you, no thorns will block your path. Then, you need to dig a patch of soil under each oak tree, water it, fertilize it, and cover it."

"Count, you're at least a knight. This task shouldn't be too difficult for you, right?"

Count Rossegar looked down at his clothes. To maintain his dignity and to protect himself in the thorny jungle, he wore a lambskin jacket, sturdy breeches, and heavy leather boots...

His cheeks twitched involuntarily. So, these clothes would be completely soiled by manure and water?

"Count, please!"

He gestured lightly. A young nature priest stepped forward, knelt on one knee, and prayed with his hand on the grass. In a moment, the grass and trees swayed, silently parting to reveal a path.

Count Rossegar's face twitched again. He picked up a bucket, filled it with water from the cart, and looked hesitantly at the manure cart. With a face full of embarrassment, he pleaded in a low voice:

"Can I let my sons and grandsons help?"

"Yes," Elder Etto answered readily. After a pause, he added:

"But the first ten trees and the circle of trees around the clearing at the top of the heritage land must be done by you personally."

Count Rossegar was truly helpless. He wavered between flipping out and having his entire family eliminated or bowing his head and being humiliated, becoming a laughingstock in the county for a hundred years. Ultimately, he picked up the manure ladle.

A foul stench hit him in the face. Count Rossegar held his breath and took three steps back. The surrounding spectators either frowned, showed disgust, or cast spells to dispel the stench and potential filth blown by the wind:

Disgusting!

Disgusting!

Even a tiny speck of this on their robes would require bathing, purification, and incense burning to eliminate the smell!

Only the priests of the God of Nature remained unfazed, looking straight ahead without any change in their expressions: Stench? What's that? Who among the servants of the God of Nature doesn't farm? Who doesn't deal with this stuff?

Garrett also remained unfazed.

Of course, his composure wasn't because he was used to farming or because he had spent a lot of time in the emergency room, accustomed to various smells.

His composure was purely because he had foresight: bubble spell activated, mage armor activated, wind barrier surrounding him. Not only would the wind not blow the smell to him, but even if someone splashed manure, it wouldn't touch him.

The count's eldest son, second son, youngest son, and all the adult or semi-adult grandsons followed him into the forest under his stern gaze. They carried water buckets, shovels...

They walked to a tree, knelt, prayed (some couldn't kneel steadily on the slope and slipped or tripped more than once). They dug a hole with the shovel, poured in manure, buried it, watered it, and prayed again under the guidance of the nature priest.

Then, they moved to the next tree...

"Smack!"

The manure ladle slipped from his hand and flew far, scattering brown and yellow all over the grass and leaves. The poor count, either stepping into a pitfall or tripping over grass, fell straight down...

"Father!"

"Count, don't rush, you can go slower..."

"Ugh..."

The count struggled to lift his head. The nature priest who had been guiding him stood far away, looking straight ahead with an indifferent expression. His young face showed no sign of involvement, not even a hint of mockery.

His face, posture, and eyes all clearly conveyed one thing:

"I didn't trip you. You fell yourself..."

And this hill had at least a hundred more oak trees. He still had dozens of trees to personally water and fertilize.

Count Rossegar looked down at his clothes, shoes, and hands, suddenly overcome with sadness.

After completing this round of atonement, when he walked out of the forest, would he reek for miles?

Never provoke the Cult of the God of Nature again! Write it in the family history, tell the descendants, never provoke them again!

These good-natured people, when angered, they were serious about it!