40k: Midnight Blade

Chapter 487 5. Hiding in the dark

"Morality adds nothing to our work, Tujaa."

"Yes I know."

"It's time for you to throw away those outdated norms. This world no longer needs so-called justice. We are all just beasts."

"Yes, you are right."

"Why are you so stubborn?" the man asked.

He was drunk, his cheeks were red, and his eyeballs were swollen, like two glass balls stuck in his eye sockets, lubricated by a disgusting sticky substance, glowing with an uncomfortable greasy light.

An entire wall behind him was made of fogged glass, beyond which towering gray buildings looked coldly down on everything below them. The markings of the Imperial double-headed eagle had been soaked by artificial rain on their bodies, turning them into a flickering pale.

Tujia looked past the drunken man to the two-headed eagles, and he was attracted to them. Then he discovered that the building was growing, growing all the time.

They are simply like tumors or viruses that are constantly growing. The double-headed eagle logo is constantly protruding from the surface of the gray building, turning into a real iron bird flying into the sky, flying around in the rain of technology.

They have no feathers, and they have flaming eyes that they use to spy on everyone.

They're screaming.

"Morality is useless!"

Suddenly, the man roared and grabbed him with such force that he felt like he was about to be crushed. Tujia wanted to answer him, but he couldn't because he suddenly found that this face was somewhat familiar, especially the swollen eyes.

They are green, hungry, boring and dead.

A scream got stuck in his throat, and the nightmare dissipated, only for Tujia to release it.

He sat up suddenly, feeling pain in his abdomen again, but it had subsided. His screams still echoed in the church, and they sounded distorted. At the same time, a special smell came from his mouth.

He frowned, immediately realizing that he had been fed some kind of potion.

Probably painkillers or hallucinogens, there is no difference between the two things in the hive.

Tujia covered the back of his head, which was swelling, and slowly sat up straight.

He found himself still in that chapel, not dead and not being abused. No one hung him up, laid out a wooden table, and about a dozen horrific knives used for executions, and then sterilized them in a brazier.

No, there are none of these things.

There was only the very quiet chapel, where the statues of the Emperor still had their eyes closed and looked pitiful.

Tujia dispelled his fantasy and grasped the quilt with his left hand, but his fingertips touched another thing. He looked back and saw it was his wide-brimmed hat.

He put it on and stood up.

The light from the stained-glass windows that formed the ceiling of the church fell before him, and it was a miracle that there was not much dust in the air through the mist.

Tujia has been to some churches, and in his impression, only those in wealthy areas can do this, because those churches all have cleaning machines.

They will clean continuously every day, and for them, dust and other stains are probably their mortal enemies.

What a simple and clear goal.

Tujia sighed and began to look for the priest in the church.

What happened last night was unlikely to be his imagination. The bleeding statue and the gleaming black fragment were still lingering in his mind. Compared with them, the corpses surrounding the entire church are not even a 'nightmare'.

Thinking of this, Tujia couldn't help but raise his head and looked at the tallest emperor statue.

The sculptor responsible for carving it had shaped the Emperor's face to perfection, with his closed eyes illuminated by the sun beneath the laurel wreath. The stained glass changes the color of the sunlight, making them golden, giving the statue a certain transcendental power.

Have they really met the Emperor? Tujia suddenly thought of it.

If they have not seen it, then which gods are these statues that we worship?

He was silent for a moment, dismissed this heretical and blasphemous thought, and began to continue his search. He found nothing. Instead, he saw his coat hung up in a corner.

Not only that, its weight also revealed another thing - Tujia reached into his inner pocket, and sure enough, he found his gun, and there were already some rough scratches on the handle.

Tujia let go and let the gun return to the bottom of his inner pocket. He took out a candy and ate it. When the sour taste exploded, Tujia glanced at the candy wrapper out of habit.

[Never let the Emperor down, citizen! 】

I'll try my best.

Tujia folded the candy wrapper into a long strip, pulled up the hat, and tucked it behind his left ear. He walked towards the side door of the church and slowly pushed it open.

At this moment, the small circular square in front of the church was already crowded with people. With a cursory glance, Tujia judged that those people were all low-class workers or low-class civilians engaged in some gray activities.

At the same time, the aroma of food reached his nose.

Tujia frowned, and a guess slowly emerged in his mind.

His instinct was not to believe such a thing, so he decided that seeing was believing. He walked out of the church and saw a familiar figure wearing thick gloves distributing food to the workers in the center of the circular square.

He handed the cheap industrial bowls out one after another, and then he handed them back one after another.

order? Tujia could hardly believe his eyes. No offense, but he actually saw order?

He turned up the collar of his coat, closed the side door of the church, and quietly squeezed into the crowd. All kinds of flavors hit you, none of them good. He walked silently among the crowd, observing the identities of the people who filled the square.

What he saw confirmed his conjecture. Most of the people were hard laborers and wore shabby clothes. But there are also mothers with their children, as well as some teenagers in groups.

They had different identities, and Tujia knew some of them were thieves at a glance. They did not steal in this place, but stood in line neatly, with their hands always in their pockets, very deliberately, almost like a reminder.

"Yes, we are thieves, but we don't steal here."

I must be crazy. Tujia told herself this.

The crowd knew nothing about it and just continued to flow in silence, like a dusty ocean. Tujia is like a silent but rootless rock, which is gradually pushed to the forefront by the tide.

The aroma of the food hit his face intuitively along with the steam, bringing a burst of warmth. Hunger immediately surged up, and it was only then that Tujia realized his current situation.

He lowered his head and looked at the large wooden barrels placed on a trolley. The porridge was floating and stirred by an iron spoon, and a large spoonful was scooped out. Unknown fungi that were chopped into very fine pieces swirled around inside it before being poured into another gray bowl.

A thickly gloved hand handed it over.

"The Emperor bless you, sir." Pastor Horst said with a smile.

Tujia nodded and took it silently.

At a loss, he took the bowl and left the crowd. The porridge is still hot, transferring warmth from the palm of your hand. Tujia slowly walked to a corner and began to eat slowly.

His taste buds were greeted with a salty taste, the porridge was very fragrant, and the fungi were also very delicious.

After a few minutes, Tujia found himself licking the rim of the porridge bowl with his tongue, feeling the aftertaste.

He put down his hands and began to wait in the corner. After about ten minutes, the crowds that crowded the square dispersed one by one. The morning light of Litatra emerged little by little among the light gray clouds, shining on everyone's shoulders.

Tujia exhaled a heavy breath and slowly walked towards the priest who was collecting the cart and the ash bowls.

He quickly came to him. The priest did not look up and was still very focused on the cleaning work. So Tujia stretched out his hand and put the bowl he received into the pile of empty bowls on the cart.

This incident seemed to open up a dialogue circuit for him.

"Do you often do this kind of thing?"

"Once a week," Horst said.

His gloves were stained with gruel.

".Why would you do such a thing?"

"What kind of thing?"

"This kind of thing. The state religion does not include relief of the poor as one of its doctrines, and some areas even explicitly prohibit it."

"Who told you that I was helping the poor?" Horst raised his head and asked rhetorically.

"what are you doing then?"

"I am giving back to these devout believers for their support of the church." The pastor took off his gloves and showed a smile.

Tujia glanced down at his hands and saw no trace of blood. The nails are neatly trimmed and the joints are clear. There are no signs of holding a sword frequently. On the contrary, there are thick calluses on the inside of the thumb of the right hand and the left side of the first knuckle of the index finger and middle finger.

He obviously holds a pen every day and writes a lot, and he doesn't use a quill.

Copy classics? A guess was born in Tujia's mind. It is true that the priests of the state church copy a wide variety of books every day, but this person

Tujia frowned and forced himself to clear his mind again. He could no longer connect these hands with the bloody hands he had seen last night.

"Are they supporting you?" he asked, trying to soften his tone so that the conversation sounded more like small talk than cross-examination.

"Of course, they work together to maintain security around the church. As I said, the second district of Litatra is a quiet little place, and the men from the law enforcement team don't come here very often. But it Still very quiet.”

The pastor chuckled and turned around, pushing the cart back into the church through the side door. Tujia followed him and closed the door for him, but still did not stop asking.

"You didn't kill me, why?"

"Why should I kill you?" the pastor asked again.

Tujia remained silent and did not answer.

The pastor pushed his trolley and walked into another door of the church, which was probably where he usually lived.

A few minutes later, he walked out wearing a white robe that only priests can wear, with his pure skull shaking on his chest and a string of pious rosary beads tied in his right hand.

"I am the priest of the God Emperor. I don't kill people." The priest said with a very calm expression.

Tujia didn't know how to refute for a moment.

He kept his silence, but the priest began to talk. The statue of the Emperor closed his eyes and meditated behind him, his compassion weakening for some reason. Tujia took off his hat and began to listen to the words of this strange priest.

"Actually, Mr. Tujia, the thing you should be more concerned about now is not me, but the noble who wants to catch you. Even if he is addicted to the drinking party, he should probably find something wrong by now. You We will soon face more pursuers, and they will not take me or this church seriously."

The priest narrowed his eyes.

"Unbelievers." He threw the word lightly, and a sudden chill came over him.

Tujia clutched his hat.

"In short, you have a lot of things to worry about. But you don't have to worry too much. Litatra is a very tolerant city, and anyone can find a way to survive here. You are no exception, Mr. Tujia. Also, do you need some advice?"

"What advice?"

"Change," the priest said, gesturing. "We are a small place here, and news in a small place often spreads quickly. Maybe those people still don't know what you look like, but they probably already know what kind of clothes you are wearing."

"So, if you have this idea, you can go find a lady named Anais. Her shop is just east of the church. It has a pure white sign and is easy to recognize. Trust me, Mr. Tujia , you will be pleasantly surprised by her craftsmanship.”

Tujia nodded silently, no longer hesitating, he put on his hat and planned to leave. He had already made some decisions.

This pastor named Horst is full of doubts, and so is this church. But that's not his biggest concern right now. The most important thing is to survive and report what happened on Litatra to his superiors.

A nobleman who dared to murder a Ministry of Justice investigator. Who knows what else he could do? Tujea didn't like Litatra, but he wouldn't just watch someone's conspiracy ferment in the world.

He walked towards the side door, but the priest stopped him at this moment.

"Oh, by the way, sir. I have one more thing."

"What's the matter?" Tujia asked without looking back.

"How does that bowl of porridge taste?"

".very nice."

"Really? That's good." The pastor smiled and nodded, watching him leave the church.

The side door closed and the footsteps faded away, but he still kept smiling. A few seconds later, a voice came from behind the tallest emperor statue.

"What do you think he will do?"

"I don't know, probably killing to stop killing," the pastor said. "I'm looking forward to seeing his faith crumble."