Chapter 833: The Evil of Superstition (Part 1)

"What, blockade?" The boy sat up abruptly. The violent movement pulled the bruise on his back, and he grinned in pain. But then he found that his wounds had been treated and bandaged, and there was a smell of antibacterial drugs only in hospitals. He relaxed a little, because he remembered the antibacterial gel Salomon gave him, the coldness that could make people's ribs tighten just by smelling it, the smell of those medicines was exactly the same as the smell he was smelling now.

"Yes, we have already waged war with the angels." Constantine helped the boy sit up from the hospital bed.

"You actually..." The boy sighed, "How is the situation now?"

"If you ask yourself, when we find you, your condition is not very good, but fortunately there is not too much trauma. If you ask our owner's servant, then our air defense firepower has laid many angels, and there are not many casualties for the time being." The Guards said, "This is the current situation. No one can easily pass through the line of defense against us. If you want to do so, it will face great winds. Danger. But if you insist on doing so, we can't pay you up to you, boy. "

The Imperial Guard took a step back, showing the boy the high-tech equipment in the infirmary and the halberd in his hand, "On this earth, only we have the ability to break through the angel's line of defense and send you to Fenbowente Mountain, so I hope you can tell me something I want to know. For example, what you know about the monarch's situation—according to the testimony of the sisterhood, you should have fallen into the bridge of heaven just like the monarch. Where is my Lord, boy?"

"Do you really want to know?" The boy sighed, "Actually, I don't know what era he is in now." Constantine stared at him silently, invisibly putting a lot of pressure on the boy. The boy couldn't help but shouted, "I really don't know, the power of the Eye of the World didn't involve him! I only know that if I want to solve everything, I have to go to the top of Finbowente Mountain to solve the problem, maybe your monarch will come back later."

"This is a solution." Constantine nodded, not too obsessed with Salomon's whereabouts. The boy didn't know the relationship between the Praetorian Guard and Salomon, so he didn't pay too much attention to it, but if other people in the Immortal City saw it, they would think the behavior of the Praetorian Guard was a bit strange. "Wait here, and I will take you to the top of Finnbowente when the operation begins."

"Hey, one more question. Where the hell am I now?"

"Sky Carrier Retribution. Someone will bring you a nutritious meal later, you just wait here." Constantine closed the door of the infirmary and locked the boy inside. Immediately after Konstantin left, the boy jumped out of bed, walked cautiously to the door and turned the handle. Immediately afterwards, the boy's complexion became quite bad, but this also made him sure that the Praetorian Guards were indeed Salomon's subordinates, and their behavior was almost exactly the same. "He is telling the truth." Constantine said to Baron Mordo who was standing in the corridor. "Perhaps the solution is to send him to the top of Fenbowente Mountain. But I still have a question, why does the Supreme Master say that there is no need to worry about the whereabouts of the monarch?"

"You're fooling me. I don't know, and no one can figure out the Venerable's plan." Modu shrugged and said with a smile, "But you don't have to worry too much, the Venerable has always paid attention to Salomon. He will be fine, maybe he will pop out of a box after a while, just like his pranks when he was a child."

"I will go and prepare the commando." Constantine did not refute, but left the infirmary guarded by the mystic.

It would be great if Modu's statement is correct. If the monarch does not show up, then the imperial guards will do their duty. He will never hand over the monarch's safety to others, let alone Kama Taj, who will not put the monarch's life safety in the first place.

Now he holds the highest authority of the Immortal City, even the internal affairs department must obey his orders. Tita received a communication from the Praetorian Guards, and a few minutes later, the strongest fighters in the Sisterhood were removed from the line of defense and returned to the Sky Carrier Retribution. The elite soldiers under Victoria Hand and Sophia were also gathered to wait for orders. Constantine planned to lead the team of sororities and mortals himself to send the boy to the top of Finnbowente, and he didn't really care how many people died in the process. If sacrificing the entire Immortal City could save the Sovereign, the Praetorian Guard would not hesitate.

But these are not enough.

"Great Sage." He said to the Fifth Demon God Pillar far away on Mars, "I need your help."

A cold electronically synthesized voice responded. "Approval has been passed... The test model of the NERV Legion is about to depart. It is expected to arrive in 21600 seconds. For the destiny of mankind to rule the galaxy."

Men wildly raised their pitchforks and cheered loudly in front of the giant fire. Besides him, the young boys from the same village cheered, but the man thought he was the most honored one, because his pitchfork bore his prize, a head he had cut off with his own hands--the head of a blasphemer, the head of a witch-woman, the head of a banshee. It was his sacrifice to the god he worshiped. After the priest stopped the banshee's witchcraft with the holy words, he was the first to rush forward. Cold, sticky drops of blood dripped on his eyelids, but he didn't feel sick. The others took only an arm or a thigh, and the body parts were thrown into the fire, so that the others would not be killed by their witchcraft. This was ordered by the pastor, and no one dared to disobey the pastor’s words, because the pastor was for their own good, pointing out for them the culprit who destroyed the farmland, caused women to miscarry, and made young men lose their minds.

They are just, they are to safeguard the lives of ordinary people!

The villagers who had won the spoils all lit a fire, celebrating this great day like a festival, a day that proved their pious beliefs. The witch's head was staring with big eyes, her bitten face was covered with blood, the firelight reflected on her dull eyes, and the exquisite earrings covered with dried blood swayed with the movement of the pitchfork, playing a brisk accompaniment for the cheering crowd.

She's so pretty even with her head chopped off! The man raised his head and spat into his head.

He was quite intoxicated by the warmth of the flames on his back and the head-turning passion, and he also smelled a mouth-watering smell of barbecue.

The man looked around, bent down while others were not paying attention, and picked up a piece of gold jewelry from the black dress on the ground-this trip is not in vain, maybe this can be used as a gift for his wife? The man shivered in fear as soon as he thought of this. Maybe there was magic in it, maybe the Witch's dying curse would turn his pup into a cripple and an idiot!

He made up his mind to dedicate the jewelry to the church in exchange for the priest's blessing to show his piety.

"Shameless banshee!" shouted a woman in coarse linen, holding a book given by a priest, pointing to a head on a pitchfork. "Go to hell! Witch who only seduces men! Look here! God's curse is upon your souls!" Even a child clutching a woman's apron shouted.

"They will steal children! These old witches!" Someone shouted. As soon as the words came out, the woman immediately carried her child into her arms, fearing that there might be a living witch who would snatch him away. But the panic didn't last long, because all the people around the fire felt an inexplicable physiological fear. From the corner of their eyes, they saw a tall figure in golden armor walking slowly through the crowd. It was a man who radiated light all over his body. Incense and warm light enveloped him, and anyone could see his holiness.

"This must be the messenger of God!" someone shouted, "Our piety has been proved!"

The villagers held up their trophies in front of the giant one after another. Even if they were just bloody stumps, they couldn't wait to dedicate them to the messenger of the gods as a proof of their piety.

So the messenger of God began to kill.

Ask for a ticket!