Old-time musicians

"What kind of list is this!?"

Boles finally frowned and spoke. You must know that some things cannot be said or done, and some things must not be done. Everyone knows that things have always been like this, but it does not mean that they can be said openly.

Admiral Lannut, the commander of the 33rd Army of the Janus Sun Crusade and responsible for the defense of the southeastern region of San Perto and three other counties, was actually included in this priest's list?

"Where does this Wharton Arcadio live and what is his property?" Fan Ning ignored him and read the fat officer's name again while thinking. This was not because he was deliberately remaining calm, but because of the intelligence. They are all stuck together and cover up each other. He has found out some information about this person, but he has never seen him in person.

The two people's eyes met. The fat officer choked on his saliva and was about to shake his head to express that he didn't know. Unexpectedly, Fan Ning just asked and answered himself. After a pause, he continued to read: "Xihua Cachoa Street, 10 An unknown bar about 150 steps away from Lane 2”

With a few more taps of his steps, his figure disappeared at the end of the square in an instant, leaving only dozens of piles of flames burning on the ground.

"Boss, where are we now?" The officer named Wharton looked at Boles with a look of inquiry, and then looked at the firearms piled in the purple air wall.

"Wait a moment." Boles' eyes were stern. "This new priest seems to be surprisingly strong. If it weren't for a head-on confrontation on the battlefield, relying on the army and artillery to suppress it, in daily situations like this, we would He has no power to resist, and I’m afraid even a tank wouldn’t be able to deal with him.”

"Let's wait for his holy fire to float up and see what's going on. Since we were ordered to arrest people, we just need to help him arrest them and take them to the church. It's a serious place anyway, and it's not an assassination activity."

"But he went to my house." Wharton was so anxious that he was interrupted by Boles.

"Are you stupid? This priest is obviously too lazy to bring people to the church one by one, so he uses some means to subdue them, and then uses us as coolies to drag them away. Don't you know how to act according to the situation?"

Boles gritted his teeth and frowned deeply: "As soon as this matter is settled tonight, I will send a telegram to Admiral Lannut. This person doesn't know the rules, why is he making a list? It's so pedantic and funny! See what's written on it He is so dense that he offends people everywhere before he takes office. When everyone comes to see the Pope, he may not even be able to accomplish anything in this diocese!"

Fan Ning was naturally not interested in the twists and turns in the minds of the two officers.

Amidst the heavy snowflakes, his figure passed over several blocks in an instant.

Wherever they went, homeless people huddled in shacks felt their frozen bodies being washed away by a warm current like the sun. Some people saw the figures flashing past and the raging fire left behind, praying with tears in their eyes. Like this, my heart repeatedly screamed for miracles.

Finally, he turned into an alley and picked up a strange object in his hand.

It may not be appropriate to describe it as strange. It is a normal object, but its appearance here is somewhat inconsistent.

It has a log that serves as a handle, a semi-curved dark leather strap, and six silver bells inlaid on the strap.

This is a snow bell, a sleigh bell.

The alley looked dead and silent, and Fan Ning could detect the trembling breaths in the shacks due to the cold, as well as the scoldings, scoldings, and small sobs coming from the walls of those houses.

"Bang!

"

Fan Ning kicked open the door of the bar, and warm air, loud music mixed with the smell of alcohol and perfume hit him.

It's like a different world.

During the curfew on a winter night, the room was as warm as spring. The strippers in cool clothes were twisting their graceful bodies wantonly under the ambiguous gas lights. There were men laughing wildly in the audience, and some men were breathing heavily in the shadows.

There are mountains of wine bottles on the table, and the accumulated liquid on the ground, together with the discarded food, has a colorful texture.

Things like skyrocketing prices seem to be nonsense when viewed from the current scene.

"Who is it?" Several thugs shot up.

It was also accompanied by the sound of bullets being loaded in several corners.

The middle-aged man who broke into the house seemed to have a hard time seeing his face clearly because of the flashing lights and the heavy wind and snow.

But the next moment he rang the sleigh bell in his hand.

"Check-check-check--" Fan Ning's deliberately created rhythm seems to be even, but also implies a strange rhythm.

This is a very light and fragile sound, not as clear and crisp as the wind chimes, but it has a coolness that wants to make people escape from the world.

The thug who turned out to be a messenger stood up and relaxed slightly, walked out from the sofa, walked quickly to Fan Ning, and spoke amid the rumbling music and drums:

"The savior of fate and the guide of heaven."

Fanning knew that the Lord of Witness he was praising was "the Serpent of Truth."

These words are often used as the opening words of prayers in gatherings of acquaintances organized by the Divine Advent Society.

Moreover, the leader will also shake a pair of sleigh bells at the same time. The products on the market are not ritual objects, but it is difficult for ordinary people to control the peculiar rhythm and timbre.

Although Fan Ning didn't know why, he had copied the gourd in the past few months and imitated it flawlessly.

Then the snow bell was ringing, and he continued to chant the second half of the chant:

“The embodiment of ancient truth, the harbinger of change.”

"We walk on the earth as if we were in heaven, we chant her name day and night, sing and dance together, and then gradually reach the sky." This sentence was recited by the two of them.

The thug regarded Fanning as a "messenger" to recruit acquaintances and contact information, so he motioned him to follow him to the small attic on the third floor of the bar.

"Bang." The thug left on his own, and after the door was closed, the noisy music and laughter were almost inaudible.

This small attic, which was converted into an office, was wrapped in precious velvet carpets on all sides, with a faint and long-lasting fragrance, and a burning fireplace. A burly man sat at the desk with a thin magazine spread out in front of him and a small half glass of red wine next to him.

Apart from the figures of the two armed bodyguards in the dark, it was hard to imagine the cozy scene in front of him, which was only separated from the homeless outside by a few walls and stairs.

When the man saw the messenger coming in, his overly relaxed expression was slightly restrained. He stood up and waited for the other party to speak.

The other party, like the usual messengers, seemed to be wearing a veil of shadow stripes.

"Wharton Arcadio?"

Fanning asked, flipping through the list and picking up a pen from the table.

"That's my son, he's on night watch tonight, I'm Sidney." The burly man smiled, "Does Ms. Sylvia have any gatherings that need to be notified recently? Or is there any business that needs to be dispatched by me?"

Fanning said "Oh", wrote "Sidney Arcadio" above the first name in the list, and wrote "father and son" together with the following, and also noted the two labels "idolatist" and "smuggler".

He was particularly rigorous and put a question mark after the label "false witness".

Seeing that he wrote so seriously, the burly man Sidney also picked up a notebook and pen, thinking that there would be something to record later.

After Fanning finished writing, he slowly crossed out a line, just like a waiter in a restaurant confirming that a dish has been served.

Then, a punch——

hit Sidney directly on the head!