On a winter night three years ago, it was very cold and it was snowing.

This is not Sunset Island, but a land area separated from Sunset Island by a sea. Although it is also within the dusk land, most of the people living here are indigenous people, and they are not as good as those on Sunset Island in terms of infrastructure or public security.

Not long ago, the wolfdog received a task, and the heresy court destroyed a secret meeting place for the crazy believers. The wolfdog, who was still the second person in charge, was sent by his boss to hand over to the court and brought the living back to the prison.

This is not a good job. When going out to deal with the executioners in the trial court in a snowy winter, not only does it have a cold body but also a cold heart.

The staff of the Heretic Inquisition Court are quite normal, and the executions that are specifically responsible for dealing with crazy believers are more or less eccentric, some are sperm, some like to suck blood, some are keen to dissect corpses, and some are often hammered the brains of crazy believers. There are all kinds of people.

Wolf Dog always felt that Mr. Qi, who was weak in Wenwen, was responsible for the work of the Heresy Inquisition, which was really difficult for him. He should go to the hospital of the Logistics Department, which could make his rebirth of the origin play a big role.

However, it was that night that he suddenly realized that it made sense that Mr. Qi would be arranged to work in the heresy court.

A remote town in the land area, near the harbor pier, where mermaids and dragons live, there are fishermen who hunt sea monsters for a living, workers who carry goods, laundry workers who make a living, and even crazy believers who breed like rats in the waterways.

The location of this dilapidated tavern is very bad. It is located in a garbage dump made of scrap iron. It is obviously the secret base of this group of sewer creatures. The second floor of the tavern has been blown away, probably the dead-end fanatics who detonated the explosives. The residents around locked the doors and windows, carefully hid behind the curtains to spy on the situation, fearing that the accidents in the tavern would cause trouble for themselves.

All the lamps in the tavern were destroyed, and it was pitch black inside. The half-human-high iron door panel flew outdoors. There was a half-length body hanging on it, which was illuminated by kerosene street lamps.

Under the street light, a thin figure leaned against the wall, and a light-colored coat that was neither warm nor waterproof had been soaked in blood. He was smoking and waiting for others.

"Qi...Mr. Qi?" Wolf Dog shouted out the title of the person in front of her in an uncertain tone.

"It's me." The smoker replied, his voice hoarse, as if he was coughing.

Upon hearing this, several executives following the wolfdog saluted him one after another.

"I came out to do something, and passed by this tavern to buy a glass of wine, but I accidentally broke it. I was so lucky." Mr. Qi smoked and turned his face slightly to look at the wolfdog.

Under the light, his eyelashes cast a shadow on his blushed pale face, covering his usual gentle and melancholy brown eyes. The wind on the winter night blew bitterly, and the snow flew in the wind and hit people's faces, but he seemed to have no idea that it was cold, and his hands holding the cigarette did not tremble at all.

But the wolfdog felt cold. He watched Mr. Qi's coat dripping blood. The clothes that seemed to be soaked in the blood kept dripping dark red liquid on the snow, turning the pure white snow into a scarlet killing mark.

The gloomy fear spread from the soles of his feet to his mind, and the wolfdog replied stiffly: "Yes, they are really unlucky."

Mr. Qi smiled, with a shallow curve and a cold expression. It was more like a ruthless self-deprecation than a friendly smile.

"There are still a few survivors. I'll tie them behind the bar. You can go in and check the scene. There is a basement inside. You can make some mental preparations before going down." Mr. Qi said.

The wolfdog didn't know why he hadn't locked people in half of his domain, and he didn't dare to ask. He took people into the already messy tavern and quickly searched the scene.

It was tragic, this was the first impression of the wolfdog. He endured the smell of blood all over the ground and dragged more than a dozen bodies on the first floor to one piece. From the on-site analysis, he could probably imagine what happened here not long ago: Mr. Qi walked into this strange tavern and planned to have a drink. Perhaps from the customer's strange expression, perhaps from the wine that was added, or perhaps from the bartender's gesture, he discovered that this was not an ordinary tavern.

Then what? The wolfdog had no more clues, so he took the executives to the winery behind and found the entrance to the basement.

The wolfdog turned on the bulky flashlight and walked slowly down the bloody stairs.

He saw a hell on earth.

The corpse that was hanging upside down, an altar filled with carrion, a wine glass made of baby's heads, and eyeballs soaked in human blood, a hell composed of these once-living lives.

The wolfdog almost escaped from the basement. He rushed to the outdoors to breathe fresh air, enduring the nausea in his stomach. Several subordinates squatted aside and vomited, and the sound made the wolfdog want to vomit.

It was too unprofessional. He stared at his subordinates and thought angrily, he still had too little experience. If he were the executive officer of the Execution Department, he would never be like this. If he were the executioner in the court, he would have seen the corpse, blood and eyes would not blink.

"Come on one?" Mr. Qi handed him a cigarette.

The wolfdog took it. The smell of tobacco he hated on weekdays seemed to be saving his nose on such occasions.

Mr. Qi lit a cigarette for him, and his wrists exposed with his cuffs did not look like a prisoner who could clear a nest of crazy believers in a short time.

He still looked sick and he started coughing again as he thrust. The wolfdog wanted to advise him not to thrust, but they were not familiar enough to persuade him to say such words, so he swallowed them.

The smell of tobacco makes people calm, the strong sense of nausea is suppressed, and anxiety is also taken away by the smoke. While swallowing the clouds and vomiting, the wolf dog is extremely awake.

Sobering up, he found that all his perceptions of Mr. Qi were wrong.

He has strong insight, decisive action, and ability far beyond ordinary people, so he can escape when he accidentally enters the gathering of crazy believers.

He is not a nanny, but a professional killer. He will not admit the mistake of the marks of the knife that killed the body with one blow.

He may be in poor health, but he is not sick. It is impossible for a sick person to kill all the crazy believers in the room in one breath.

Thinking of this, the wolfdog couldn't help asking, "How did you find something wrong with this tavern?"

He unknowingly changed the name to you.

Mr. Qi coughed a few more times and said hoarsely: "Intuition."

intuition?

The wolfdog's beast's ears trembled for a moment, and he suspected that Mr. Qi was perfunctory to him.

Mr. Qi: "The moment I walked into the tavern, my intuition was warning me. It was difficult to tell what was wrong. What must be said is that the murals in the tavern were very strange, making me feel gloomy and uncomfortable. This is not a painting that a tavern should hang."

Wolf Dog: "Just a painting?"

Mr. Qi: "It's not right for the customer. In such a lively tavern, all the conversation stopped the moment I walked in."

The wolfdog nodded: "This is a doubt, but it is not surprising."

Mr. Qi: "So it can only be said to be intuition. To confirm, I tried the bartender."

The wolfdog became curious.

Mr. Qi smiled bitterly: "Acting is not omnipotent either."

Wolfdog: "So, you exposed?"

Mr. Qi: "No, I pretend to be a newcomer who has just entered the dusk country. There are no flights at night. I plan to go to Sunset Island tomorrow and need a place to stay tonight. This sounds like a very good sacrifice material, right?"

The wolfdog nodded again. So why did Mr. Qi suddenly start a massacre?

Mr. Qi: "Just when the bartender enthusiastically suggested that I make do with the utility room on the second floor of the tavern, a few bloody guys walked out of the basement and invited everyone in the tavern to come downstairs for a fresh human-meat meal."

Wolf Dog: "…"

There was a picture in his mind.

Then there is really nothing to do, who wants to get this?

Mr. Qi sighed: "I didn't plan to do it myself. I thought about calling the executioners to come here in the middle of the night to send a secret package to suppress the enemy. Unexpectedly, it turned into a big melee. It caused your department to come here to help me with the cold weather. I'm so sorry."

The wolfdog hurriedly said, "No, no, it should be, where is the responsibility."

Mr. Qi smiled. This time, his polite smile was not so sarcastic.

He lit another cigarette, with skillful movements and elegant postures. Seeing him smoking makes people feel like a pleasure.

On a snowy night, under the street lights, outside the tavern that was slaughtered, Mr. Qi coughed lightly while smoking. What he said seemed to be the truth, but it didn't seem to be all.

This unpredictable sense of mystery made him feel sickly sexy and neurotic, and a little lonely and desolate.

He seemed to have broken free from the bloody battle just now. The crisis on the line of life and death dissipated. His rapid heartbeat calmed down and the fiery blood cooled down. He stood under the street lights smoking a cigarette, and his eyes were staring at the darkness ahead without focus.

He may be thinking, thinking, or having nothing.

The wolfdog was reluctant to speak, and Mr. Qi's side face was illuminated by dim street lights, and the cigarette butts flashed in the snowy night. His gentle and harmless appearance cracked a gap because of what he did that night.

Is it the real him under the gap?

"Mr. Qi, Mr. Wolfdog, several living crazy believers have been taken to the aircraft. Are we going to go back to the trial now?" asked an executive.

"You guys go back first, I'll smoke this before leaving." Mr. Qi raised the cigarette from his fingertips and coughed gently twice.

The wolfdog said, "Then we'll wait for you on the spaceship."

"No need." Mr. Qi refused, "I have something else tonight."

The wolfdog had to take the man away.

The moment he walked out of this street, he turned around with some emotion.

It was getting heavy. Mr. Qi stood in the snow, smoking quietly. He looked at the tavern that had been half blown up and said something softly.

The wind brought this sentence to the keen ears of the wolfdog.

He heard him say, "The last time I came, it wasn't like that..."

That was not long ago. At that time, he often squatted in this tavern to observe the key figure who could trigger the mission to the Holy City. That day, he went to find Rude, and Rude was taken away. He was worried that the mission would be intercepted, so he rushed to the abandoned church that could trigger the next mission. There, he met Ning Zhou standing in front of Mary's tombstone.

He knew nothing about the cruel fate, and with beautiful visions, he swore to take Ning Zhou to the holy city, which was the end of his life for his mother Maria.

It is also the starting point for Ning Zhou to move towards the origin of destruction.

Because of unsupported love, he deviated from the life Mary arranged for him, left the Holy See that shelter him, the power of destruction awakened, and the tragedy of his life began.

Is he okay who is far away in the Demon Realm?

How could he be fine?

Qi Leren coughed heart-wrenchingly, and his whole body was exhausted by the pain in his lungs. The pollution that constantly eroded him in half of the field could still be resisted, but the concerns and thoughts that tortured him in the midnight dream could not be.

On this cold snowy night, he was terminally ill from body to heart.

He fell to his knees, holding the blood-soaked snow in his hand. The snow water melted in his hands. He could not feel cold at all, and he would no longer feel cold.

He just missed him very much.

The author has something to say:

PS: This tavern is the first one in Chapter 112, where Rude often drinks. Of course, Rude is...well, he died, otherwise, as a Holy See, how could he not find something wrong with the tavern he often goes to? Gay friend: The meaningless bento has increased!

About half a year later, Ning Zhou sent the Dune Palace and Hristato White Coffee. Le Mei cheered up. He couldn't let Ning Zhou see his dying look. Learning to hide his fragility and only show his good side to his lover is also a kind of maturity.
Chapter completed!