The Secret Code of Monsters.

Chapter 278 The Bishop and his Granddaughter

Same narrow house, same layout.

Wooden stool, table.

But compared to Roland, the table was covered with a thick white cloth with golden crosses sewn on it, blocking Shandel's view.

It wasn't just three interrogators she had to face.

only one person.

An old man with the same gray hair and blue eyes.

He smiled gently, and the ripples left kind wrinkles on his face.

Gary Kratov.

An old man whose surname is proud of him.

The head of the "Unkind Hall" of the London Church - the head of the "Whitehall" that Roland had visited, which was "purified" and full of thick stone pillars.

bishop.

High-ring ritualist.

A "saint" with outstanding achievements.

"You should come and see me more often, Sandy." Gary Kratov was sitting on the chair, wearing a simple white robe that was spotless, with a shining cross on his chest.

His voice is steady, and contains a power that can calm the soul.

"I am too old to live long."

He did not arrange an interrogation, but met his granddaughter alone and chatted with her about trivial matters in life - he seemed to be very worried that she would not have a good life in the Inquisition, and that after her relationship with the church deteriorated, she would be looked down upon by the executors.

He was worried about her life, her safety, who she had come into contact with, and what her future would be like...

Old people always worry about too many things, and children are usually impatient with these.

"Being an executive officer is too dangerous, Cindy. I shouldn't have let you come to the Tribunal."

His increasingly dim blue eyes looked at the only relative he had in the world.

She should have had a cup of hot black tea when the warm afternoon sun shone through the rose window above the church, turned to the page she hadn't finished reading last time, or paced through the silent library that was arranged as orderly as piano keys.

Rather than being scarred in dust, blood and swords.

"This is my fault."

He said.

Shandel gave a very standard smile, with the corners of his mouth precisely calibrated to stay at just the right position - one point less would be unfriendly, and one point more would seem fake.

She shook her head slightly.

"It's not your fault."

The girl's voice was gray and light, like the aimless dust above the dim candlelight in the room: "I just think that compared to being a sister of mercy and showing my holy orgasm to the pious people like you in public, it is better to feel the heat of the golden flame in the court of justice."

"That might suit me better."

Gary Kratov looked at her quietly.

As they grow older, the young will learn to rebel against their parents.

The stronger ones even tried to attack the former rulers of the tribe in an attempt to seize the position of leader.

——He looked at Shandel as if she were a child in her rebellious period, watching her put her hands on her knees, straighten her back, and resist the adults obediently and silently.

“Is the money your parents left enough?”

Your parents.

These words caused a crack to appear in the perfect mask.

Shandel smiled and nodded: "Of course, Grandpa. They left me a lot of money and real estate."

“Yeah, they love you…”

Gary Kratov wiped his eyes and couldn't help crying when he mentioned his daughter and son-in-law.

"They were engulfed in flames. I can hardly imagine how painful that must have been..."

"Father of all creation..."

"Please have mercy on these two suffering souls..."

"They struggled in the flames..."

Sander Kratov smiled and gazed at his blood relative, watching him weep bitterly, his voice like the beautiful and light-hearted "Pastoral" suddenly falling into the stormy fourth movement.

He looked extremely miserable.

It's as painful as a passerby crying for a soldier who came back from the battlefield and lost both legs.

"They love you, Sandy. I love you as much as they do..."

People on the stage perform, and people below the stage appreciate.

Until the performer took out his handkerchief and wiped the corners of his eyes.

"The monastery is suitable for you, Cindy..." Gary Kratov said. His dim eyes were full of sadness, and this sadness seemed to have a weight at this moment, weighing heavily on Cindy's shoulders.

"You should have been the next Saint."

The old man shook his head.

"You are learned, full of wisdom, pious and pure."

"You have excellent talents and will definitely achieve extraordinary success in the future..."

The sound was like a branding iron rolling over red flames trying to set up camp on a heart carved out of solid ice, scalding the juice and making a sizzling sound.

And Shandel finally reunited with the familiar long needle in his memory.

The invisible, long needle that pierced her brain and heart.

She had encountered this devastating hurricane countless times, swallowing every second of it as hard as swallowing a razor blade.

But the Xander Kratov of today is obviously different from the Xander Kratov of the past ten years.

A gentle and crazy soul appeared in her life.

A shadow cannot illuminate another shadow.

But solar energy.

"I think it's better for me to stay in the Tribunal." Shandel smiled appropriately, and sharp blood flowed from his clenched fists on his knees, soaking his overalls.

Some people are very good at smiling and clenching their fists at the same time.

Some of it is innate, and some of it is acquired through hard work.

"I stayed in the Inquisition, and the Church and I were heading down two different paths. Grandpa, this is how we should separate."

Gary Kratov's eyes were even softer: "The surname Kratov doesn't need to go its separate ways, Cindy. As long as the sun rises every day, the Holy Cross will never die on this land."

The long needle pierced and sewed Shandel's internal organs, as if it wanted to sew all the organs in her stomach together.

She felt inexplicably sad, for Gary Kratov.

To this old man who has lost me for a long time and has missed me for a long time.

For an old man who hopes that his granddaughter is always safe and sound - as a child, why not fulfill his little wish?

That lingering emotion, like a wave, washes over the dam of the soul again and again.

Shandel raised a bloody hand and brushed his fingertips across his neck, which was faintly bruised.

She could still vaguely recall the sound of hot breath coming from her ear.

"grandfather."

"Sandy?"

"I say, I have to stay in the Tribunal." Shandel smiled as gently and compassionately as his own family: "Who would refuse a chief judge who likes to tear people's heads off?"

The atmosphere was stagnant.

"The Eighth Ring of the Holy Flame, the White Knight who never loses..." The girl sang this sentence: "I wonder if Lady Enid Jutia has ever faced an Immortal..."

Gary Kratov was silent for a moment.

Twist your wrist.

Then, those chattering emotions and the long needles stirring the lungs disappeared without a trace like footprints in the desert.

He looked disappointed, but his eyes were filled with a strange light.

"You've grown up, Sandy."

He said.

“We are very close to the Healer…”

The "Saint" level-up ceremony is not difficult. For a ritualist who is already gifted, there are no obstacles before the lower levels that can stop them - especially for those whose talents are excellent to a certain extent.

For example, Shandel Kratov.

"I thought the monastery would help you grow up faster."

"The Inquisition has the power." Shandel rubbed his bloody palm on his smock and said, "Don't you have any questions about the angels?"

The old man smiled and pressed the cross on his chest with one hand: "The disaster before our eyes is only to rescue the souls of tens of thousands of lambs from the tangible world... Cindy, it seems that you have found what you want in the Inquisition."

Shandel's eyes flickered: "Saints are always searching."

Gary Kratov looked relieved.

"I will prepare the ritual items for you... Marlene's gemstone bracelet, how about that?"

He said.

"One of the personal belongings of the saint of the previous generation. This scepter bears witness to the sacraments she performed throughout her life. It is sufficient to be used as a ritual object for the ordination ceremony."

Shandel put his hands in his overalls pockets and stood up slowly.

“No need. I have no interest in things that have been soaked in the sweet rain of countless devout people…” The girl turned away, but stopped at the door and suddenly turned around and smiled: “You too, Grandpa.”

"Varied--"

The baggy smock pockets had a cylindrical shape.

boom--!
The gushing flames shattered the rough seams of the overalls, and the bullet spun through the tablecloth embroidered with a gold cross and landed behind it.

Where sight cannot penetrate, bullets can.

"May the All-Father protect you and me, Bishop Kratov."

Xiandel bowed slightly, greeted the Holy Cross believers who came after hearing the noise, and left with his shoulder turned away.

"bishop!"

"Father!"

The believers looked at the blood on the ground, the red-stained holy cloth and the bullet holes, and could not help but loudly denounce.

Gary Kratov waved his hand and lifted the holy cloth slightly.

Soon, the body of the seven-year-old boy was dragged out from under the table.

The gunshot was not accurate enough, and instead of hitting the back of his head directly between his eyebrows, it penetrated his neck and left a shallow bullet hole diagonally just below Gary Kratov's chair.

"The holy dew was poured on his soul..." Gary Kratov bowed his head and sighed: "Go, this poor suffering child will no longer suffer..."

The believers bowed their heads slightly, ignoring the red and white mixed liquid coming out of the corpse's mouth, gathered their things, and left the room without looking back.

Gary Kratov clasped his fingers together and stared at the candlelight that had quieted down again, slightly lost in thought.

(End of this chapter)