When the Saint comes, she does not collect food

“Humbly thanking Holy Grandson Horn, who provides food to nourish my body, his kindness is boundless, blessings upon the Holy Lord and Holy Grandson.”

The villagers' cacophonous chanting and the aroma of thick porridge drifted together, disturbing Horn's ears and nose.

This song was actually the villagers' most frequently sung grace.

Every year during the Winter Solstice Festival, everyone would gather in the village's front hall, and under the guidance of the itinerant priest, sing this song around the long wooden tables.

Horn sped up the original melody and changed some of the lyrics. Whether it sounded good or not wasn't important; what mattered was that it was sung in unison and loudly.

This was also a part of shaping order and discipline.

Wiping the sweat from his back with a handkerchief, Horn could still feel his heart pounding rapidly. He had spent the entire afternoon practicing knight breathing techniques under Jeanne's guidance.

Horn had had enough of feeling powerless. A breathing technique might not be much, but at least it provided some strength to protect himself.

But to be honest, Horn wasn't very good at breathing techniques. In his previous life, he was a small-town crammer who knew nothing about sports. This breathing technique required strenuous exercise and strength training, followed by sudden yoga.

Anyway, Horn had been practicing all afternoon and hadn't felt the two kinds of 'hot and cold' energies that Jeanne had mentioned.

Horn raised his head and looked outside the shed. The rain had finally stopped in the afternoon, but unexpectedly, it was only intermittent, and it started drizzling again in the evening.

At this moment, in Horn's vision, a boy walked over with a bowl of porridge, probably prepared in advance by Bursak and sent over.

Taking the wooden bowl, Horn lowered his head and stirred it with a spoon. Sure enough, he found a chicken leg at the very bottom.

This was today's dinner.

The porridge was made with fifty pounds of rice fruit, twenty pounds of berries, ten pounds of wild vegetables and mushrooms, three fish, two pheasants, and seven or eight pounds of acorn flour, boiled with water into one hundred and fifty pounds of porridge.

The hunting team could eat meat, the gathering team could eat a full bowl, and the rest could only eat half a bowl.

In the afternoon, the hunting team of twenty people had shot two pheasants. This wasn't a good result. Horn could roughly understand that, after all, time was tight, the task was heavy, and they hadn't yet meshed well with each other. It was normal for this to happen.

In a while, the hunting team should have a considerable output.

But soon, Yeschka brought him bad news.

"What do you mean by 'very few prey'?" Horn frowned, put down the wooden bowl in his hand, "Is someone causing trouble?"

"No, no, no, it's just the literal meaning." Yeschka's expression was equally grave. "Holy Grandson Master, as you know, in theory, late summer and early autumn are the times when there is the most prey.

But in this forest, you can't see many animal footprints or animal trails. You can't even find rabbits or field mice, only birds. It's too strange."

"Only birds..." Horn rubbed his chin, which already had a layer of short, stiff stubble.

Thousand River Valley is famous for its hills and winding river bays. Some major roads must pass through bridges. Generally, whether it is the church's relief or the king's relief, or the relief from other vibrant social organizations, it will be concentrated in the town areas.

If Horn wanted to escape, the first step was definitely to go near a town. Whether buying grain or renting a carriage and guards, it had to be done in a town.

These past two days, the rain has been slowly decreasing.

Generally speaking, after the rain stops, the flood will recede in about one to two weeks.

But to wait until the roads are passable, you have to wait another week or two to repair the bridges, especially since this flood was so severe.

Horn and the others have to last at least two weeks, and at most four weeks.

Relying on birds alone, with the current grain reserves and the gathering team's output, it is absolutely impossible to last until then.

It shouldn't be like this. The Archbishop of Timberland Fortress only sends specialized hunters once every two or three years. There should be many animals in the forest.

These prey can provide valuable meat, protein, and fats. Combined with wild vegetables, acorn flour, and other foods, an animal about the size of a deer is enough for more than two hundred villagers to eat for a day.

Although the Black Pine Forest is not big, there should be thirty or forty medium-sized animals, right?

"You go deeper tomorrow. Jeanne and I will go with you." After thinking for a moment, Horn tapped the empty bottom of the bowl with a spoon, "I want to see what's going on."

"Yes, Holy Grandson Master."

As soon as Yeschka left, Bursak came up to him, followed by six children, five boys and one girl.

Their faces were gray, their lips were chapped and white, like bean sprouts, with big heads and thin bodies, wearing tattered clothes.

These should be the orphans from each of the ten households.

"Holy Grandson Master, these are the orphans from each of the ten households, four from refugee backgrounds and two from public farmer backgrounds. I have selected them. They have no disabilities, and their teeth are good."

Bursak was a rare armed farmer who had attended the Church's Anri School and even almost entered the Salin Society Academy. He was organized in his work and managed logistics in an orderly manner. He was equally thorough in selecting orphans.

"How old are you all?"

The orphans' lips trembled, and they leaned close to each other, so nervous that they couldn't even speak.

"The oldest is thirteen, and the youngest is nine," Bursak answered for them.

Horn nodded. Not too old, not too young, but this was normal. If they were any younger, and without parents, they would have starved to death some time ago. If they were any older, they would be considered adult laborers.

"Don't be nervous. All beings are equal under the Mother. I am the son of Messala, but like you, I was once an orphan." With a gentle smile on his face, Horn reached out and touched the head of the smallest child, "Your parents were devout believers, my fellow villagers, beloved friends. Their passing makes me equally sad.

Without the protection of parents, you must have suffered a lot of grievances and injustices, just like I did back then. I gritted my teeth and persevered, but when I see you, I seem to see myself again. I thought, maybe I can do something, that's why I called you all over.

Although we have no blood relationship, we have no home. In that case, why don't you become my godchildren? I will baptize you and be your godfather. That way, we will all have a home again, how about it?"

Horn's benevolent fatherly gaze swept over them, although the orphans still looked down at the ground, without much reaction.

Okay, it seems that his words have touched their souls. Horn awkwardly waved his hand, he wouldn't say more. He quickly let the orphans leave.

"Jeanne, take them to wash and change their clothes... Why are you crying?"

"I'm not, you see wrong."

The newest novel is first published on Liu Jiu Shu Ba!

After sending Jeanne away, Horn picked up the book on the box, wanting to continue studying while the daylight was still bright, but was interrupted once again by messy footsteps.

The previous little monk Armand, tugging on Father Cosette's sleeve, entered Horn's hunter's hut.

This is really one wave after another. Will they let him study properly? If he doesn't study at this age, when will he take the college entrance exam and the civil service exam... oh, there aren't any here, then it's okay.

With a light sigh, Horn put down the collection of poems in his hand and sat up: "Father Cosette, is there something you need from me?"

"Holy Grandson Master, as the son of Messala, you are the closest person to the Holy Lord. My nephew is inexperienced and has some doubts about the teachings. May he ask you?"

"Ask, you can ask anything. What can't be asked?" Sure enough, Horn had long expected that this day would come sooner or later.

The little monk Armand, as the only person who had received seminary education, would definitely doubt the existence of "Holy Grandson" and "Holy Daughter", and would be confused by the places that contradicted the teachings.

Cosette is a butcher who doesn't know many words, so the real itinerant priest of Red Mill Village is actually this very clever little monk.

Horn needed him in many places. If he was disobedient, he would cause even more damage. At that time, Horn could only tearfully let Jeanne go.

"Holy Grandson, the Holy Father, the Holy Tree, and the Holy Lord are the Trinity, the Holy Triangle. Why is there you, an adopted son?"

"But I was adopted by Messala." Straightening his posture, Horn spread out his hands, "Facts speak louder than words. Your belief in the Trinity must be wrong."

"Then what exactly is this Trinity?"

"We are a family of four, why is it said to be a Trinity? It's very simple. The three refer to the father, the mother, and the child. The Holy Father is the father, the Holy Tree is the mother, and the Holy Mother is the child. Now that I am here, the Holy Father is still the supreme original father, Messala has become the mother, and I have become the child.

So the first meaning of the Trinity is the unity of parents and children, a big family, requiring each of us to have family harmony, children to be filial to their parents, and parents to care for their children, passing on love from generation to generation.

The second meaning is that the Holy Father represents the past, the Holy Tree represents the present, and the Holy Lord represents the future, and the future will eventually become the present, and I will become the future again.

Like a rotating wheel, the ants under the wheel see different patterns, thinking they are different objects, but they belong to the same moving wheel. No matter how it moves, its essence is still that wheel. We are all a facet of the Holy Spirit."

"But the doctrine says that the Trinity is the unity of the Holy Spirit, but with different persons..."

"False scripture. The church has misunderstood the meaning above."

Armand's expression was somewhat astonished: "Can the 《Gospel》 be wrong?"

Horn had a smiling expression: "The Gospels are all things from hundreds of years ago. How can there be no mistakes in copying and spreading them?

Moreover, must one have scriptures to approach the Holy Tree and Messala? It is better to have no books than to believe them all. Why can't people communicate with Messala by going beyond the 《Gospel》?

If everyone has light in their hearts, then everyone can become a saint. Messala called me to spread the gospel in order to correct this mistake."

Seeing the look of confusion and contemplation mixed on Armand's face, Horn almost couldn't hold back his laughter.

This was the patch that Horn made for his "Holy Grandson" identity. Its essence was similar to that of Zen Buddhism and Yangming's philosophy of mind. In the European history of his hometown, Thomas Müntzer also proposed similar ideas.

He could tell that Armand was a clever person who had received seminary education. The smarter this kind of person was, the easier it was to get stuck in a dead end on this point.

Rather than letting Armand's confusion ferment into doubt, it was better to make him even more confused.

As for the follow-up explanations, like Horn's distant leadership, they were completely disregarded.

Anyway, once the flood receded, he would pack up his money, take those loyal personal guards, and run away.