Tianjin people will never lose SAN

Chapter 400: Small Changes in the Timeline
Inside the Holy See, the young Catholic Nechuli was walking in the long, dim corridor holding a candlestick.

Today was not his day on duty, and his daily work was the same as that of ordinary Christians. He went to the chapel for mass and confession, copied church scriptures in his room, and read a book at night before going to sleep.

But he left the room, skillfully dodged the cultists who were on night watch, and walked into a remote storage room.

Moving aside bags of potatoes and carrots, he carefully dug out a protruding brick and reached in to twist it a few times.

Three or four seconds later, a dark passage appeared in front of him.

There are many secret passages inside the Holy See. This is no secret. After all, the holy war a thousand years ago when the Holy See was established has not completely stopped. This place is not only the promised land for believers, but also the last bastion of faith for the Holy Maiden Army.

Therefore, most saints know this secret. Today, most of the secret passages have been sealed or locked, and only a few are still used by a few people.

Nechuli walked in the secret passage for three or four minutes until he reached the end, then he knocked on the wall in front of him.

The next second, the wall opened and the dim light shone in, causing him to unconsciously raise his left hand to cover his forehead. There was no figure in front of the door, but a strange sound came from behind the curtain of the room.

The reason why the voice was strange was that the young voice seemed to be in some kind of pain, but the tone of the speaker was full of joy. This contradiction made Nechuli feel a little uncomfortable.

"Kid, how is Lombardy doing? Any news?"

“It’s a mixed bag.”

Nechuli could only see the curtain swaying slightly, as if the person lying on it was not a human being, but an insect that was in the process of transforming from a cocoon into a butterfly:

"Tarice failed to awaken the onlookers in Lombardy, Alpia was killed on the spot, and we lost five believers."

Nechuli finished telling the bad news first, but there was no response from behind the curtain. He could only hear waves of groans of pain.

“As for the good news, there are two. The first is that the fake Saint Saint Balaam showed up, and he took control of the situation.

And he also agreed with Talice to participate in the debate at Candlemas at the end of the month."

"Okay, as long as the saints can participate, ah..."

A hideous shadow rose high behind the curtain. It no longer resembled a human figure. Nechuli could vaguely see curved, finger-length whiskers twisting irregularly back and forth.

"Your Excellency, since the fake saint has agreed to debate at Candlemas, should we also be prepared?"

Nechuli added.

"Of course, but that's not your concern. Are you planning to step onto the platform prepared for the debate?"

The young voice was full of teasing, as if the hard-earned fun could help him dilute some of the physical pain.

"Of course not, but today when I was reading in Archbishop Kosander's study, I accidentally found an ancient book.

It was mentioned above that the saint left five holy relics when she first preached. I thought this book might be helpful for the debate on Candlemas, so I copied part of it.

"Ancient books...holy objects...how come I've never heard of them?"

The voice behind the curtain showed doubt for the first time. After a while, he slowly murmured:

"Could it be that... the returnee affected reality in the dream? It shouldn't be... it shouldn't be... the will of the Holy Mother would interfere with changes that shouldn't exist.

Could it be... that the saints are really influencing him... this shouldn't be the case... "

The content of the muttering behind the curtain was beyond Nechuli's understanding. He could only put the copied book in his arms on the table and took two steps back.

“You go back first… go back… we have no idea what happened in last night’s nightmare.

But Candlemas Day is approaching, and it will be too late for the other party to do anything... The era of the deep sea will eventually come, and we will be the final flippers, breaking through the reincarnation with the Virgin Mary and returning to the truth. "

……

Time goes back to one day ago.

Although Botticelli has been staying with Saint Barain recently, he is still affected by the nightmare every night.

During the day, he sat up from his bed in the Lombardy Hotel and wanted to paint two pictures to record the scenes he dreamed of last night, but the noise downstairs always disturbed him.

Botticelli carefully drew aside the curtains and opened the window, and the noise of the crowd suddenly poured in like a tide. "Your Excellency Saint Barlaan, believers of the Saint's Mercy, please listen to my story. My son, little Gloria, is only five years old! Last summer, his left leg was broken by a carriage and he has been lying in bed ever since..."

"Saint, please judge my unfaithful wife who cheated on me and the man in my barn..."

"Saint, I praise you. I know it was you who helped my wife give birth successfully. Last night she had already..."

"boom!"

Botticelli slammed the window again. It was too noisy!

Ever since the Saint's Parade ended yesterday, the area around the inn has been crowded with people. If the sheriff hadn't been blocking the way inside and outside, the citizens of Lombardy would have already demolished the inn and worshipped Saint Barlaan.

Botticelli took a deep breath and prepared himself mentally before walking out the door. He knew that Saint Barlaan was very busy and there must be many important things to do during this tour.

But he had to explain last night's dream and his worries.

The villagers in those fishing villages will memorize the Holy Maiden's Canon sooner or later. They will probably go fishing in the sea in the next few days. Can those teachings really help them deal with the monsters in the sea?
If he fails... how should he face it? Botticelli is at a loss and he urgently needs Mr. Saint Barlaan to make a decision for him.

As soon as Botticelli walked out of his room and stepped into the front yard, he saw two children, a boy and a girl, who usually followed Saint Barain, talking in the yard.

It was said to be a conversation, but it was basically the little girl who was talking and the little boy just nodded and shook his head without saying anything.

"I just said so much, you didn't understand? Don't pretend, you know what I said."

Ling'er was aggressive, but Xiaohu remained the same, his big eyes unblinking, his gaze blank, and he shook his head stupidly.

"When are we leaving? You know what the trumpet of doom means."

Xiaohu shook his head again, meaning I won't leave! Ling'er clenched her fists. If she could use force to make her brother surrender, she would have done it long ago.

But now she was a little unsure... After all, even she was not sure how to deal with her brother's "dead tree blooming".

"Then how about we wait until the Victoria thing is over? There's no room for negotiation this time! If you don't go, I'll go by myself!"

Although the wording was firm, the tone was not too strong.

After hearing the last sentence, Xiaohu pondered for a while and then nodded slowly.

The two of them were aware of Botticelli's presence from beginning to end, but they ignored him. An ordinary mortal would not care even if he heard their conversation.

After getting a satisfactory answer, Ling'er turned her head and looked at Botticelli.

Botticelli was like Jacob. He was not afraid of Saint Barlaan, but he was afraid of the two children. After Ling'er looked at him, Botticelli didn't dare to leave and returned to his room in dejection.

After staying in the room for another two hours, Botticelli finally mustered up the courage to leave the room again.

This time it went smoothly and I successfully met Saint Barain. The saint was lying on the recliner in the living room eating an apple.

And sitting next to him was the little boy with black eyes and black hair.

The little boy opened his mouth and muttered something dryly:
"The ironware in our house is official iron made by the Imperial Household Department of the Qing Dynasty.

The official iron from the Imperial Household Department was delivered to the Upper Four Courtyards in Beijing. The Upper Four Courtyards was the imperial stable.

At that time, my uncle worked as a groom. He climbed over the wall in the middle of the night and stole two pieces of iron. If the Pope knew about it..."

Botticelli had no idea what the child was talking about, but Saint Barlaan squinted his eyes, shook his head as he listened, and occasionally opened his mouth to remind him:

"That won't work. There are two words missing. Don't think that I pronounce 'bye bye' like a spoken language when I'm working. In fact, I have to be very precise with my skills. It looks like chatting, but there are actually some tricks to it."

"This sentence is not quite right. You need to use the right interjection. It needs to give the feeling of being there, telling a story..."

"Take a break, take a break and then practice again."

After giving his instructions, Saint Barlaan turned to Botticelli and asked:
"You, what do you want to talk to me about?"

(End of this chapter)