Tianjin people will never lose SAN

Chapter 403 Burial
Although Botticelli believed what Saint Barain said, his hand holding the fish knife still trembled slightly. It was the instinctive fear of unknown things that was deeply rooted in ordinary people.

It's not like he hasn't seen dead bodies before. When he was in Amalfi, he witnessed several times the executioner sending prisoners to the gallows, but... none of those deaths were so strange.

Turning a corner, there is the kitchen area for cutting vegetables. There is a long table with a skeleton on it.

Botticelli was a painter of the church. He also had some research on the skeletal structure of the human body and other creatures. But looking at the skeleton that was more than three meters long on the table, he was speechless and didn't know what to say.

This is a structure that cannot be explained by any anatomy, biology, or theology. It has the thick spine that a vertebrate should have, but is surrounded by transparent brittle bones like a spider web.

The brittle bones were crystal clear, and even though they were stained with dark brown blood, Botticelli could still feel the delicate elasticity remaining on them.

What made him feel most incredible was that even though the skeleton on the table in front of him had no flesh and blood attached to it, he could still feel an indescribable vitality from it.

It was as if its owner had never died, but had simply freed himself from the shackles of flesh and blood.

There were several villagers sitting on the floor next to the long table. Unlike the corpses lying on the ground in front of the kitchen door, Botticelli could see their faces clearly.

Black liquid oozed from their eye sockets, and the empty eye sockets were filled with black. Where did the eyeballs go? Botticelli couldn't understand.

Pure black was still flowing out continuously, flowing down the cheeks like tears.

Botticelli and Saint Bernius behind him both stopped. They could hear the chattering sound of each other's teeth colliding, but neither of them was willing to step back.

Saint Bernus was worried about his sister's safety. He and his sister had depended on each other since childhood, and he had long since given up on his own worthless life. But his sister could not die here in a muddle, so even if she turned into the monster in front of him, Bernus would take her away.

Botticelli was thinking about the maxims that Saint Baranovich had given him during the day. If it weren't for Saint Baranovich, he would have been thrown into the dark cell of the Inquisition.

If I turn around and run away at this moment, how can I face the saints again?

The two did not exchange any opinions, stayed for a moment and then continued moving forward.

The next room was filled with various condiments, which seemed to be where women processed the ingredients.

There were more than a dozen wooden bowls under the cabinets on both sides, filled with white meat and various seasonings. There were several bowls of fish soup on the round table in the middle.

The fish soup was still steaming slightly, probably having just been out of the pot.

There were several people lying on the floor, including Squillani, whom Botticelli had met. Like the other villagers, he had black water flowing from his eyes and a wooden spoon in his hand.

Botticelli looked around and didn't see Castalana, but he felt that Saint Bernus had walked up to him without him noticing.

He picked up a bowl of fish soup on the table, put it to his nose and sniffed it. The fragrance also drifted into Botticelli's nostrils through the air.

"It smells so good..."

He couldn't help swallowing. It was the first time he felt hungry in a dream, but the feeling was so real and wonderful.

After living for more than twenty years, even in the real world, Botticelli had never smelled such a sweet scent.

In his mouth, Botticelli was secreting saliva like crazy. If he swallowed a little slower by half a second, saliva would flow down the corners of his mouth, but he seemed unaware of it.

Saint Bernus beside him couldn't resist the temptation of the fish soup and picked up a spoon from the table. In fact, he had been feeling particularly hungry since a while ago, and his hands exuded an enticing aroma after touching the pickled fish.

"Tick, tick..."

Saliva dripped into the fish soup from the corners of his mouth. He really wanted to taste it.

Just as he was about to put the spoon of fish soup into his mouth, a hand grabbed his wrist from the side. It was Botticelli.

"You can't drink it. There's something wrong. Think about the people in the room. Think about Castalana."

Botticelli almost squeezed out these words from between his teeth, but even as he said that, his eyes were fixed on the soup bowl.

The fish meat was soft, white and tender, and the light yellow soup was still oozing with oil. Although he hadn't drunk it yet, he could already imagine the deliciousness of the fish soup.

This fatal attraction went beyond the scope of delicacy. Not only was his tongue longing to suck it, but his soul was also bewitched.

Take a sip, take a sip of the fish soup in front of you.

In the eerie room, a corpse with black water flowing from its eyes was lying twisted and turned in the room, but the two people remained unmoved, staring at the bowl of soup.

Botticelli felt that his already weak will was rapidly disintegrating, and his biological primitive instincts were about to destroy his beliefs.

He let go of Saint Bernus's hand, picked up a bowl of fish soup from the table, and took up the spoon.

Saint Bernius, who was standing next to him, had drooled so much that the front of his clothes became wet. He could not wait to put the spoon to his mouth.

"Brother! Don't drink! Don't drink!"

At the critical moment, Castellana's voice rang in their ears. Botticelli and Bernus both regained a little clarity temporarily. They could tell whose voice it was. They both looked around, but did not see the familiar figure.

"Don't drink that fish soup, they all drank it half an hour ago when Squillani killed that weird fish he found in the pit in the Boyce backyard.

I actually thought about stopping them, because that strange fish always makes... sounds very similar to human voices. But they didn't listen to me, and of course I didn't want to spoil their fun. Today was a day to go fishing, and everyone was shouting... Saint something... I didn't know who the Saint was.

But... it's always weird to eat things from the sea randomly, brother, you once warned me..."

As she spoke, Castalana's voice became rapid. Like all ignorant little girls, she was frightened by what was happening before her eyes. She spoke incoherently and even cried anxiously.

Is this really a saint? Botticelli couldn't help but wonder.

"Snapped!"

In order to resist the temptation of the fish soup, Saint Bernus simply knocked over all the food and tableware on the table. After doing this, he was panting and clenching his right hand desperately because there was still some fish soup left on it.

"Castalana, where are you and why can't we see you?"

Botticelli then realized the problem: they did not see Castalana in the room, but they could hear her voice clearly.

"I'm in the back room. I feel weird now, but I didn't drink the fish soup. Come here quickly, brother, Boyce!"

The two men walked quickly forward, opened the doors of each room and checked, and finally they saw "Castalana" in a room full of empty cloth bags.

Botticelli and Bernus determined that the thing in front of them was Castalana by the sound of sobbing. If one of them was related by blood and the other was a saint because of their faith in the saint, they would definitely scream and run away the moment they saw this thing.

It lay limply on the ground, its body tissue no different from that of the strange fish, white flesh and skin, and a flat body, but the outline of the girl's face could still be seen on the surface of its body, and her facial features seemed to have melted and been imprinted on the strange body.

"Castalana…are you okay?"

"I'm fine, brother... am I starting to ooze out the black liquid like them?"

Castalana's voice was tearful, and she could hear the fear and hesitation in her brother's voice.

"No, you're still the same. Except for crying a little ugly, there's nothing strange about it, is there, Boyce?"

Saint Bernus tried to control his breathing and remain gentle.

"Yes, it's the same as before, but don't cry, at least tell us what you just did."

Botticelli couldn't bear to hurt the girl, so he kept asking questions while trying to cover up his lie.

“I, I heard the strange fish’s voice, and it didn’t seem to be calling for help. I couldn’t understand what it meant, but I picked up its eyeballs and buried them in the mud in the backyard.

When they came back, the villagers were swallowing the fish like crazy. As they ate, black water flowed from their eyes, but they didn't care and just lay on the ground.

"What to do? Boyce."

As he spoke, Saint Bernius had tied the sacks together to make a simple backpack and carried his sister on his back.

Botticelli's mouth was dry, the development of the situation was beyond his control. If it was just ordinary villagers who became like this, he could still find a way to evade it, but Squillani had also become a monster, and Henrich would never let the three of them go.

"Bang bang bang..."

Just at this moment, there was a knock on the door:

"Boyce, the items for the mass are ready, Mr. Pioli wants you to celebrate the mass!"

The villager who came to report the news thought that the three were still talking about private matters in the house. He did not dare to disturb the saint of the saint, Boyce, so he could only knock on the door from outside.

"What to do? Boyce."

Saint Bernus urged. He also understood that the large number of deaths in the villagers and the changes in his sister were not things that could be dealt with easily. It was difficult for them to predict the reactions of other people in the village.

"You stay in the house, I will go with them, and after I leave, you can take Castalana away, by boat or on foot!

They only need me, and they won’t look for you for the time being.”

This is a dream, it is just a dream, Saint Barlaam will guide me. In panic, Botticelli only had one belief, that is, to believe in the compassionate and wise saint, who would guide him.

He searched the house frantically, collecting all the furniture, utensils, and farm tools of ordinary villagers.

"Bernus, take this!"

Botticelli handed the saint a fishing gun leaning against the wall. This was the weapon that Squillani usually carried, and Saint Bernus might need it when he escaped.

Outside the dream, the little genius brother and sister were chanting the Holy Scriptures.

Haverson felt that the holy spear next to him was emitting a scorching heat.

"Sister, are our prayers tonight so devout? The Saint has responded to me through the Holy Spear!"

(End of this chapter)