Tianjin people will never lose SAN

Chapter 378 There are really bad guys in the team

In the chapel, the three bishops resident in the Holy See sat at a long table. Bill and Jacob were also specially summoned and sat at the end of the long table.

Cardinal Kosander briefly and concisely explained what Chief Judge Mirandola had just reported.

The atmosphere in the chapel was somewhat depressing, and several bishops were silent.

It would undoubtedly be a good thing if the Saint's Tour could be successfully concluded, and everyone present here would be able to make a mark in the books written by religious scholars in the future.

But if something goes wrong, then... I'll be a sinner for all eternity.

No one dared to take this idea, but Jacob, who had been sitting there quietly from the beginning until now, stared at his neatly trimmed right hand nails and spoke:

"May the mercy of the Saint shine upon the earth. Your Excellency Kosander, all the bishops, I think you are all worrying too much. I understand what you are worried about.

But please forgive me for not having worked with Saint Barlaan and not knowing his abilities and character, that is why you think so much. "

After Jacob's words, the four bishops including Kosander all looked at Jacob. Yes, apart from the Haverson brothers and sisters, Jacob was the person who had the most contact with Saint Baraan. Jacob once regarded Saint Baraan as an opponent.

"This is the reason why I called you here today, child. Go on." Bishop Kosander nodded.

"All saints are patron saints who have received divine instructions. Take Saint Barlaan for example. I have personally seen him kill those pagans without them even realizing it.

He also saw with his own eyes that the projections of gods were reduced to ashes under his hands.

Don't forget, among the blind believers of the Gear Church, a high-ranking priest died at his hands.

In other words, Saint Saint Baran has no fear when facing these insidious and cunning gods’ followers, no, even gods themselves.”

After this was said, several bishops nodded. Yes, they were so concerned that they only thought about Saint Barlaan’s noble status and forgot the saint’s previous brilliant achievements.

“As for heresy… don’t you think Saint Balaam didn’t know?
Rather than saying that Botticelli found Saint Barlaan, it would be better to say that this guy was chosen by the Saint, and Saint Barlaan was just carrying out the Saint's will. "

"Jacob... So you mean, we should do nothing? Just let... oh, no, please forgive my disrespect, let His Excellency Saint Baran conduct his investigation?"

Bishop Campion, who was speaking, was in his forties, the youngest among the bishops, and he was used to keeping everything within his control.

"The Saint's compassion shines upon the earth. I am devoted to her and I am also loyal to the Holy See. You don't have to doubt this. I am different from the Haverson brothers and sisters."

Jacob understood what Bishop Campion meant. He probably thought he was a fool who was obsessed with the teachings of the scriptures.
"Of course we can make some preparations, such as working secretly to hunt down those lunatics in Sahagun so as not to cause unnecessary trouble to His Excellency Saint-Baran. I think that's all." Jacob shrugged.

"Bill, Jacob, don't think we're overthinking it. You'd better make another trip."

The speaker was Bishop Lorraine, the oldest person at the table. He looked at the Gate of No Source behind him with concern. Obviously, what was behind the gate worried him even more.

"It doesn't matter. The Inquisition is the majestic flail in the hands of the Holy See."

"If you two are not busy, please help Judge Mirandola share some of the work. It will be of great significance to enable Saint Barlan to arrive at the Holy See smoothly and preach the gospel to the believers."

The last bishop given instructions was named Contaldo, a fat man who had been focusing on worldly affairs recently.

"Don't worry, Chief Judge Bill and I will not disappoint the Holy See's expectations."

Jacob stood up proudly, bowed, and left the room.

……

In Amalfi Cathedral, the evening light shines on the blooming flowers, and the flower stems, which are in the most vigorous stage of vitality, are cut off like this.

"Old Good, let us do this kind of work. You can help with the other things. We still need you for the archway at the entrance to the courtyard."

A young man was about to take the scissors from the old gardener, but the old man smiled and blocked them with his body:

"These flowers are picked for Bishop Jone. He is now lying in a cold sarcophagus and needs some fresh flowers to accompany him."

"Well... you should pick them. I don't know how that damn Botticelli dared to come back to the church so brazenly!"

The young man patted the old man's shoulder sadly. Old Goode had worked in Amalfi Cathedral for more than 40 years and was an elder respected by everyone.

He and Father Jone have a very close relationship. I heard that they were good friends when they were young.

He couldn't rush to lay a bouquet of flowers on his friend's grave.

Old Good put the flowers into the basket, patted the dirt off his hands and walked towards the dining room behind the church.

As he passed the stable, he saw the lame Pico shoeing a horse and talking to it:
"You won't see Bishop Jone anymore, and you'll definitely miss him feeding you carrots.

But don't worry, Bishop Jone will definitely go to heaven, where he will sit in a carriage pulled by eight white horses, listen to the gospel of the saint, and continue to pray for everyone..."

"You lunatic, what nonsense are you talking about? Eat first, then get back to your work."

Lame Pico chuckled, put down the tools in his hands, wiped the sweat off his shoulders with the towel, and followed old Good into the dining room.

The church had already started serving meals half an hour ago, and most people had already eaten, leaving only a few believers still sitting inside.

"You two came too late. All that's left is kale salad and bread." The person in charge of scooping the rice today was Pastor Rabelais. Although he had been standing in front of the rice bowl for half an hour, the white robe he wore was still spotless, without a speck of oil on it.

"Kale is good. Eating too much at night can cause stomachache."

Lame Pico handed over his wooden bowl with a playful smile and continued:
"Mr. Rabelais, have you eaten yet? I see there is no one else in the back, let's eat together, don't work too hard."

"Bishop Jone just passed away, and there is still a lot for me to do."

Rabelais scooped a flat spoonful of salad with the wooden spoon in his hand, and the two strands that popped out were rubbed off along the edge of the salad bowl, as if he had some kind of obsession, it had to be a flat spoonful, no more, no less.

"Is there really no one else? Then I'll eat a little too. I still have to make plans for tomorrow."

The pastor took the bowl next to him and filled himself with a portion of food, then sat down with the two of them in the corner of the dining room.

The three of them were eating their meals by themselves, and the only communication they had was one of them asking the other to pass the olive oil on the table.

After all the food in the bowl was eaten and everyone else in the restaurant had left, Old Gu Aide slowly spoke:
"Botticelli is back again. Could that fake saint have found out something?"

"No matter how much he searches, he won't be able to find anything about us."

Rabelais licked the sauce off the wooden spoon meticulously, then clenched his fists and continued his after-meal prayer.

"The will of the Virgin Mary cannot be violated. There are no saints in this world. They are all made up by those old lunatics in the Holy See who are just sitting there doing nothing."

Lame Pico tapped the side of his bowl with his spoon.

"Shhh…I'm praying."

Rabelais opened his eyes and warned seriously.

"Praying is useless. The saint is just a vessel for the Virgin Mary. The false will will soon be gone as predicted, and the real mother will return to the world.

Those nagging dogmas are really annoying, Rabelais, are you addicted to being a priest?"

Pico looked cynical.

"You say... will that fake saint find out something from Jone?"

When Gu Aide was worried, his old face wrinkled into a ball.

"No, don't forget what I used to do, a mystic scholar. Those symbols are real and fake, and some are deliberately misleading. Who can tell?"

It was not easy to assassinate one's former companion. The three of them only discovered the message left by Bishop Jone using special means when they returned to the scene afterwards.

Time was tight, and the three of them didn't have time to find the right tools to erase the marks, so they just improvised and added a lot more.

"Hey, that's Jone's temper. It would be great if I could convince him."

Old Guede sighed. He had not hesitated at all when he had thrust the knife into his best friend's chest with his own hands;

"Tsk, tsk, tsk."

Pico looked at his two companions and smiled. These two, one was responsible for killing and the other for dismembering, but now one was grieving and the other was pious. He couldn't bear to watch it anymore.

"Botticelli is also an important part. Is it really okay to have someone controlling him like this?" Pico asked.

“The mercy of the Holy Virgin shines upon the earth, and the Virgin Mary’s arrangements are very thorough. It won’t be long before the teachings of the Sahagún sect will flourish in Victoria.

The present majesty of the Holy See is but the residual heat before the flames come. Soon the earth will fall into the quiet age of the deep sea. "

Rabelais said slowly with his eyes closed, sometimes it was really hard for Pico to imagine how a priest who always looked gentle and polite could become so crazy after seeing blood.

"Besides, there is a bishop in the Holy See..."

Old Goode showed a simple smile. Just as he was about to continue the topic, Pastor Rabelais waved his hand at him vigilantly.

Hurried footsteps were heard from outside the restaurant, and a young Christian leaned against the door and said breathlessly:

"Mr. Rabelais, you are here! Great! Old Guede and Lame Pico are here too! Come on, go to Bishop Jone's bedroom. Several inquisitors are waiting for you there!"

All three of them were shrewd and nodded in response with a normal expression. After the young believer left, the three of them exchanged glances.

What do you mean? Why do you suddenly want to see us?

"It doesn't matter. Jone saw us the night he was killed. That fake saint must have wanted to ask something."

Rabelais straightened his clothes and slowly walked out the door.

Just as he guessed, at this moment in Father Jone's bedroom, Jacob and Bill, who had just arrived in Amalfi, were looking respectfully at the person in front of the desk.

The patron saint of the Virgin Mary sect, Saint Baraan, was even bent over his desk, meditating and deciphering the clues of the symbols!

(End of this chapter)