In the darkness, Philip dreamed of butterflies.
The butterfly shed fluorescent light and flew under the red sky, dancing and blurring. He slowly opened his eyes. The hilt of the sword was filled with body heat and was held tightly.
Thick curtains covered the front of the window, blocking the blazing light outside. In the dimness, he saw Colt's eyes, as if he hadn't slept for a long time, full of bloodshot eyes, and his hair was disheveled, like a beggar's.
"What time is it now?" Philip asked.
"One p.m."
"I've been sleeping for so long."
Phillip murmured softly, stretched out his hand, and opened the curtains. The sunlight shone on the old face, revealing fatigue and weakness, and the blood vessels under the skin revealed a hint of dark green.
It was a powerful poison that penetrated into the body like a tarsal maggot.
In the past five days, since the attack on Iron Wheel, the assassinations against them have not stopped, and they have become more and more crazy each time. Fortunately, they made a prompt decision and switched from the sea route to the land route, otherwise there would be many mysterious murderous intentions hidden in the sea.
Unfortunately, the land route is also difficult to travel. As if they smelled blood, the killers chased after them one after another. Various methods were used in an endless stream, including attacks, poisoning, secret attacks, and even a group of horse thieves who received the assistance of a large number of embargoed weapons and charged directly. …
There are many musicians without dignity among them, and the secretive methods of various schools are difficult to guard against. Two blood-clothed priests had died during the journey, and Philip didn't even know how one of them died.
By the time he realized something was wrong, the assassin disguised as a priest had already stabbed the poisonous dagger into his back of the heart. Phillip, who was seriously injured, led Colt to break out of the siege. Covered by the night and noise, they sneaked into the earth's veins and followed the underground river to here, and finally found a safe refuge.
Finally got the long-lost respite.
Faint footsteps were approaching, the door was quietly pushed open a gap, someone tiptoed in, and the crisp sound of steel colliding was heard.
At that moment, Colt raised his bloodshot eyes, stretched out his hand to hold down the dagger, pounced on the shadow, stuck his hand and pinned him to the ground.
"who!"
With a clang, the brass dinner plate fell to the ground, and a few oatmeal cakes fell to the ground, covered with dust.
The young man whose throat was strangled fell to the ground. Seeing Colt's ferocious expression, his face turned pale: "God, the priest asked me to deliver the food. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to... He said you were sleeping, so let me Don’t disturb you…”
"I'm sorry for scaring you, kid."
Phillip climbed up holding on to the wall, helped the young man up, and reached out to dust him off the robe. Finally, I picked up the oatmeal bread from the ground, prayed a few words in a low voice, and began to eat seriously, regardless of the dust on it.
Colt watched the young man run away in embarrassment, holding the bread in his hand but not eating it:
"Are the people here trustworthy?"
In the past few days, he had seen too many betrayals, and even the insightful Musician of Apocalypse could not determine where the truly deadly poisonous needle was hidden.
"Peace of mind."
Master Philip said: "The priest here is a priest who graduated from Trinity College in the Holy City. He is a devout believer and was originally an ascetic. He voluntarily came to this remote town to preach in this remote town four years ago. His loyalty to the order is unquestionable. This small church has only Between him and his apprentice, no one will know we are here.”
Colt said nothing, still doubtful. He carefully lifted a corner of the curtains and looked at the dilapidated church outside the window. It looked decadent and had not been repaired for many years.
At the door of the church, the priest in shabby clothes whispered a few words of encouragement to the mournful apprentice, picked up the scripture, turned around and left in a hurry.
Colt narrowed his eyes.
"He was going to give reading and writing lessons to the children in the neighborhood and raise funds for the cost of repairing the church."
Phillip seemed to know what he was thinking, and his voice was calm: "This is what I told him, everything is as usual, except for daily water, just treat us as if we don't exist."
"The church is too dilapidated..."
"This is the territory directly under the jurisdiction of the Order. It is protected by the bell tower. No one can spy on the situation here. Rest peacefully, Colt. We will set off tomorrow morning."
Colt put down the curtains and lay in the corner behind the door, wrapped in a blanket, but couldn't sleep, his eyes were irritated.
"Hasn't there been any reply from the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith?"
For several days in a row, all the messages they sent to the Holy City fell into silence. All the messages seemed to be completely blocked. It was as if an invisible hand had extinguished all the messages they sent for help, leaving them in a desperate situation on an isolated island. Then he will hold them in his palm little by little, and let them die in a long suffocation.
Colt knew very well who could do such a thing, and that was why he was so panicked and... resentful.
teacher…
His nails dug into his palms, and his eyes were filled with hatred: It must be you, Mr. Heisenberg. Who else can achieve this level besides the Keepers of Secrets
You really want me to die!
The sound of teeth snapping.
"Help is coming soon."
Master Philip chewed the bitter oatmeal cake with a peaceful expression. The hoarse voice woke him up: "Even if the Ether Sea is blocked, it does not mean that there is no other means of communication. Rest assured, Colt, this is my last comfort. You. Although the Ministry of Doctrine of the Faith is not as good as it used to be, it cannot be underestimated by anyone."
Before he finished speaking, there was a knock on the door.
Colt's whole body tensed up, like a frightened bird, but Phillip got up.
He opened the door, and outside the door, there was a priest wearing red clothes who came silently.
The middle-aged priest is equipped with two strangely long swords. He wears light armor under his robes, and the emblem of the Hammer of Judgment is engraved on the arm armor on the back of his hand. His face was ordinary, but his slender eyes seemed to contain lightning, which made people shudder.
"Teacher, I received your letter and came here."
He knelt on one knee and lowered his head to report: "I have brought all the nearby members who are performing tasks, five Infernal Musicians, and sixteen Witch Hammers, at your disposal."
Around the courtyard, priests with swords stood silently like stone statues. Several musicians are hidden inside, calm and restrained, but their bodies contain cruel music theories that are like the judgment of purgatory.
They are all the secret trump cards of the Ministry of Doctrine of the Faith, one capable of fighting a hundred elites.
Even a hundred years ago, such a team was enough to thoroughly clean up and purify an evil god sect, erect layers of torture racks, and burn the entire sky red.
"See, Colt, there is no need to regret, you made the wisest choice."
Philip patted Colt on the shoulder: "The majesty of God cannot be underestimated, and sinners will pay the price for what they have done. From today on, they are your subordinates and will defend your life to the death. The secret keeper gives If it cannot help you, the Doctrine of the Faith can give you more. From today on, everything you say and do will be sacred!"
Silently, the Infernal Musicians and Witch Hammers half-knelt on the ground and respectfully paid their respects to Colt.
Colt stared blankly at the priests and musicians kneeling in front of him. After a long time, a smile appeared on his empty face. He laughed, lowered his head to Master Philip, and kissed the holy emblem on his ring:
"All for the Supreme God!"
His pupils were lowered, and his empty eyes were like a furnace, using resentment, resentment and anger as fuel, something terrible was burning.
…
…
In the courtyard of the carpenter's house, the sound of reading ended.
"Kids, that's it for today's reading and writing lesson."
Father Luca closed the sacred scripture in his hand: "After you go back, please read the chapter explained today again and copy it. If you don't understand anything, you can stay and ask me."
The two-hour reading and writing class finally ended, and the playful children couldn't help but cheered and dispersed. The priest looked at the mess on the ground and couldn't help but sigh. He bent down, picked up the broom from the corner of the yard, and began to clean up the debris on the ground.
After coming to the town for so many years, maybe he didn't have the talent to preach, and the number of believers didn't increase much, let alone raising funds for church repairs. The people who came to take children to read and write classes were craftsmen or farmers who didn't have much money at all. Even the venue for the classes was provided by the carpenter's home.
If this continues, it may be impossible to repair the church.
He sighed, but felt someone behind him tugging at the corner of his clothes.
"Father." A young voice sounded.
He turned around and saw the little boy holding a heavy scripture with pure and curious eyes. He couldn't help but smile: "Little Muller, you haven't left yet? Did you not understand today's lesson?"
Little Mueller scratched his head in embarrassment.
Father Luca smiled, pulled a bench over and sat down, and said softly: "The content of today's chapter may be a bit complicated for children. It is normal for them not to understand."
The content of the reading and writing lessons comes from the holy scriptures. In order to prevent the children from feeling bored, he will select some interesting stories and tell them to them.
The content of today’s lesson is the story of the sinner Lazarus who was resurrected by the gift of God. It is a bit difficult for adults to understand, let alone children.
Muller is his favorite among all the children in class. He is neither noisy nor noisy. He listens to the class carefully and attentively, and is focused on his studies. He planned to train him as his apprentice in a few years.
This way, with one more apprentice in the church, I can feel more relaxed. Therefore, it is natural to spare no effort in teaching.
"Father, Father, why was Lazarus resurrected?"
Mueller asked curiously: "He committed so many crimes."
"Because of God's mercy, son."
Father Luca bent down, touched the child's forehead, and said kindly: "God loves the world, so even sinners can live. Lazarus has seen hell, and he knows the value of life and the justice of it." Shanmei, as long as he is alive, must atone for the mistakes he has made."
"What about the good people?"
Mueller tilted his head and looked at him, confused and asked: "Can't a good person live?"
The priest was silent for a long time and smiled reluctantly: "After death, good people go to heaven."
"Heaven?" Mueller asked doubtfully.
"Yes, heaven."
The priest said: "Heaven is a place where there is no evil."
Mueller nodded in understanding, asked a few questions, and left.
Watching Mueller leave, the priest sat in a chair, remained silent for a long time, closed his eyes and prayed softly.
In the distance, hurried footsteps sounded.
"Father! Father!"
The apprentice in the church ran in the door out of breath, sweating profusely, as if being chased by a pack of wolves, holding on to the door, panting violently, and almost speechless.
"Fundraising, our fundraising..."
“What happened to the fundraiser?”
Father Luca sighed and said gently: "Everyone is living a very hard life. It is normal for no one to donate. At this time, the more we need to support each other..."
"No, no!"
The apprentice interrupted him and put a piece of wrinkled paper into his hand: "This was given to us by a kind person just now... He didn't even leave his name!"
That's a check.
Father Luca looked at the check and was quickly frightened by the series of numbers on the check, which came from the "Holy Asgard Central Bank", the treasury of Asgard.
This is a bearer check. In other words, anyone holding it can withdraw this exaggerated amount of money anytime, anywhere without any obstacles.
After Luca confirmed that he was not dreaming, he fell into ecstasy. He was as happy as a child, laughing and jumping while holding his apprentice, praying incoherently.
"Thank God, thank that kind person! After so many years, the church can finally be renovated!"
The apprentice couldn't help but shake his head:
"Father, with this kind of money, it's more than enough to build a new one..."
boom!
Before he could finish his words, there was a deafening roar.
The ground shook violently, and cracks appeared in the walls. Amidst the storm, dark clouds and mist slowly rose from the distance, like mushrooms, forming a huge umbrella canopy.
In it, crimson flames rose from the ground, dotting the scene of destruction. But no one was in the mood to appreciate it.
…
…
"It's so tragic. The entire church was razed to the ground by the Leyline Riot. Fortunately, neither the priest nor the apprentice were there, so there were no casualties."
Outside the town, on the hills in the distance, a young man in a wheelchair put down his telescope and sighed.
Behind him, his men handed the remaining checks to the people beside him.
"There is a boat waiting for you at the nearest pier. Go out to sea immediately." The man in the wheelchair waved his hand: "Go to the East, to the Southern Islands, to Tianzhu, wherever you go, you are not allowed to come back within ten years."
"This is… "
The skinny old man looked at the check in his hand, and his eyelids couldn't help but twitch twice: It was 30% more than promised!
He carefully clipped them and put them in his arms. Finally, he said goodbye with a flattering smile: "Thank you for your generosity, Mr. Watson! Thank you to the great 'saint' Mr. Holmes!"
He praised and thanked her again and again for a long time, and finally left.
"'Saint' Sherlock Holmes? Does being quick to give money count as a saint?"
Watson touched his chin and pondered:
"He might like the new nickname."