There was a kind of torture in ancient China, called "Ling Chi".

It is said that the most skilled surgeon can make the victim be stabbed hundreds of times without dying, and the pain and wailing will last for days, and he will even be able to drink porridge and eat halfway.

However, no matter how heinous the executed person is, this kind of punishment can only be encountered once, at least there is never a record of rescuing a person after rescuing him Chi Chi in the historical materials.

However, at this time, there are people in a church in the United States who are enjoying this unprecedented honor.

Berya, who is not yet thirty years old this year, is an ordinary person who does not have the special gene of cutting out his bladder and stepping on it as if he were stepping on a water balloon.

After dropping out of school, he worked with a gang for a while, but soon came out on his own because of his low income and being disciplined.

Today, his apparent profession is that of a pastor and head of a church.

Although there is no official recognition, he has always been extremely proud of the identity he "earned" with his own hands.

My favorite thing to do on a daily basis is to pretend to read the Bible, even if there are many words and phrases that I don't recognize.

Indeed, he stabbed his own uncle, the old pastor of the church here, to death with his own hands, and then put on his religious uniform in a grand manner, claiming to be a servant of the Lord.

Unlike the old priest, Beria did not regard the "priest" as a lifelong ideal and pursuit, but a skin that could cover his blood.

The underground of the church was excavated and a flesh slaughterhouse was built by Beria and his collaborators.

One after another, "pigs" were sent in and dismembered, producing all kinds of fresh organs and flowing into the black market, in exchange for the intoxicating Franklin for everyone to squander.

It has to be said that Berya's brain is very flexible.

He doesn't target the kidnapping of the residents of the street like his stupid peers, nor does he go to the black market to buy the troublemakers who are about to be disposed of, so he has never been targeted, whether it is the police or the gangs who want to track down something.

The real source of goods has always been those homeless people who can't tell the reason, as well as a large number of stowaways.

In fact, many of the agencies responsible for smuggling along the U.S. border, in addition to some real intermediaries who take money to do things, are suppliers who work happily with him.

Those who cherish the "American Dream" get on the bus and lose consciousness in the drug and are sent to a workshop in the basement of the church.

In a sense, their advertising slogan really doesn't deceive people - "Three hundred dollars, to get you to America, to heaven." ”

The long-term business brought huge profits, and Beria was not less complacent about it, and listened to the wailing of the donor many times with the Bible in his hand, as if he were really an angel herding all living beings.

Now, the feeling has become a reality, and a masked man has come to the door, and the white church floor is covered with dark red blood.

One by one, the collaborators of the past knelt in front of the high platform, their chests and abdomen open, their hands holding their organs, their eyes bleeding and tears, and the corners of their mouths seemed to be muttering, as if they were devout believers praying for the arrival of angels.

Angels will soon come to the dust, and Beria is that angel.

The masked man slashed at him with a carving knife in his hand, his eyes were furious, and his mouth was chanting poetry that no one could understand.

"People who see you will shed tears for your beauty!"

The trembling voice made Beria completely lose hope, and his eyes were gloomy and let the other party fiddle, but at this moment, the other party stopped his movements and left the church, as if he was in a hurry to deal with some urgent matters.

......

After talking to Evan and Evan began, Ember began to transmit his magic power to the other party in the air, using it to activate the unknown star cluster.

Then, Soraka descended, and the stars of mercy filled the world.

When the "Dramatist" returned to the halls of the church, the work he had put so much effort into was as good as ever, and there was no trace of the inspiration and talent that Ember had sparked on him.

"That's the end of it, cripple!"

"I won, your bullshit art is gone!"

When the man came in, the blood on the face of the restored Borea faded, and his expression changed from despair to apprehension, and finally to madness.

He picked up the gun, his arm shaking.

It was the last safety he had been hiding under a certain plank on the high platform, and if it weren't for the disappearance of the wire bindings that had been tied to his body after the starlight dissipated, it would have taken a long time for him to get his weapons.

Guns don't do anything against Ember.

Those who did not believe this were kneeling under the high platform at this time, holding their own organs as a sacrifice.

Starlight can heal all wounds, but it can't revive the dead, and Berya's collaborators have been dead for a long time, only to have a recently dead appearance because of Ember's magical preservation.

Beria knew how difficult the monster was on the other side, so he planned to shoot the bullet from the gun into his skull.

The flesh and blood body is not an unconscious stone, it has been "cut and polished" and "finely carved" for days and nights, so that Boria's spirit is always on the verge of collapse, and more than once he thinks about having a good time.

And now, when his body was as good as ever, and the pain was gone, he trembled and picked up the gun, but he no longer had the determination he had just thought.

Ember looks at it with interest and doesn't make a sound, which is also part of the artistic aspect of the work.

"I'm going to die, he's going to torture me like that......"

"No, no, no, the fruits of his hard work for a day and a night are gone, he won't have the patience to do that anymore, I'll talk to him well, he will let my ...... go"

Thoughts flickered through his mind, and finally, Berya, who had made up his mind, gritted his teeth and picked up the gun in his hand.

"Bang bang-"

A shuttle magazine was empty, and the shooter subconsciously breathed a long sigh of relief.

However, when he saw the yellow bullet at the masked man's feet, and his still graceful demeanor, he had to smile miserably and throw away the gun in his hand as if he had lost his soul.

"Leave me alone, please, I really know it's wrong......"

Beria knelt on the high platform and wept, racking his brains to organize words and beg for mercy: "I still have a lot of money, I will give it all to you, no, donate it all, I will volunteer for the rest of my life to atone for my sins, until I die!"

"Will you let me go?"

"Tut-tut," Ember shook his head, a chuckle of inexplicable light chuckle came out of his mouth, "When you were just scratched, the only thing you thought about was to kill yourself when you got a chance, right?"

"But just now, you shot all the bullets at me when you knew you couldn't get out, instead of ending your own life. ”

"I ......"

Beria tried to defend himself, but suddenly found that he couldn't say anything, and that uncontrollable feeling came back to him.

"You're taking chances, thinking that if you can beat me to death, you'll be able to escape and ascend to heaven and be free. ”

It's like the repentance and promise you have in your mouth now, when the wound scabs over and the blade leaves the neck, all the words that sound sincere and heartfelt will become abridged and outlawed. ”

Ember waved his hand, and the curtain by the window fell off and turned into wire, and the intact Beria was hung around the beams again, which made his face full of horror and pleading when he remembered something.

"Time is running out, we have to start over!"

Ember glanced at the bloodied spectators, the magic they had left on them to keep them fresh was about to dissipate, and before he could get the angels he had been invited.

As for continuing to use magic to keep them alive at this point, this solution had never been on Ember's mind.

The artist was very restrained in the use of magic when making his works, and even basically forbade it, and this time he would not make some exceptions if it wasn't for his own boss.

Thankfully, the starlight brought by Soraka restored Berea, and when the magic dissipated, the angel was in the dust, and the work that might have been slightly flawed would be perfect again.

"It's a rare opportunity to do it again, and you should look forward to it. ”

"I've sworn many times that my current work is the pinnacle of incomparable and unsurpassed, but I'm lying every time, and now, you're lucky enough to be perfect, and I'm going to put all my heart and soul into it!"

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