It has been snowing heavily for several days, and the snow outside the church is already close to a meter thick.

Visitor records for churches, zero.

The distance between the church and the village is not so proper, and the nearest family is about a five-minute walk to the church.

Ringer took it for granted that with such heavy snowfall, few villagers were happy to come to church for Mass, and they could show their respect for God by praying in the warmth of their homes.

I didn't know if the gray pockmarked bird was not, but this morning it came again, landed on the window, and looked at Ringer who was practicing calligraphy.

Ringer gently put down the quill pen.

He went to the kitchen and looked for some corn kernels.

The little bird had the last acquaintance, once it was born and twice cooked, and seemed very calm, very patiently waiting, and when Ringer went upstairs and stretched out his hand to show his favorite food, he was beating excitedly.

Ringer placed the corn kernels on the windowsill and looked at it with a friendly smile to enjoy the winter lunch.

The little bird was defenseless, bowing its head and eating one grain at a time, no matter how close Ringer stood

In the middle of winter, it's hard for any living thing, and it's too hard for such a small creature to cut through the thick snow and find bugs or something else to fill its stomach, Ringer understands.

After the bird finished eating the corn kernels, its beak rubbed a few times on the eaves of the window and flew away.

The bird disappeared into the snowflakes, and a sense of peace welled up in Ringer's heart, as if he saw the vibrating wings of the bird radiating holy.

This brilliance came from within Ringer, and with my help, the young creature was able to survive this cold and long winter.

He suddenly realized that he should have the basic potential to be a priest, not just words, like just now, a very classic scene.

He became a little excited, he seemed to have some motivation again, sat back at the table, and continued to practice this damn Russian, he must learn, if he can't even read the Bible, then sorry for the unapologetic teachings of his ancestors and the powerful spirits.

Despite the fact that the vocabulary of the Russian language is too fucking jerky and the grammar is too fucking torturous.

Some people say that the Chinese language in the rabbit country is the most difficult to learn, and Ringer thinks that the most difficult language in the world to learn is Maozi's bird language, which is as difficult to write as a loach, and when you speak, your tongue has to be curled.

Shabonny said that if you don't recognize a hundred words today, you should not drink, and his former teacher often punished his students for this.

Ringer's learning ability is good, but he is lazy, he has not learned thirty words.

"Rasputin, you seem to be absent-minded, you can't study well like this."

Ringer tossed the quill aside.

He walked out of the study and into the living room.

You don't drink alcohol, you can drink coffee, and today's coffee is made by Sabonny and tastes better than that of Ringer.

"I see that you are restless, can you talk about it? Michal there we haven't already figured out how to deal with it, you are still preoccupied. ”

Shabonny asked again.

"It's nothing, you're very conscientious as a teacher, thank you."

Shabonny was trying to brag about what had happened back then, when Ringer put on his shoes and walked out of the church without saying a word.

"Where are you going?"

"I'll go for a walk, and you cook dinner tonight."

Ringer walked out of the church and went to his house, where the village was quiet, like no man's land, and everyone was closed to hide from the cold.

Snow, which rules everything, is holy and serene.

Back home, cold silence.

It seems that Wilkin is really more than lucky.

Ringer sighed softly, went to his bedroom, and put the large and small puppets he had carved in a large cloth bag, and drew a cross on his chest after he put them on his back.

It was the first time Ringer had made a cross on his chest, both to the debacle and the bankrupt home, and to Welgin.

By the time Ringer returned to church, he was sweating from exhaustion.

Shabonny's dinner was on the same level as Ringer's, but at least it wasn't burnt.

The two sat at the table, Shabonny chattered incessantly, and Ringer listened quietly, so that if there were guests watching the scene, it would feel very awkward.

After dinner, Ringer wondered if he was going to start praying as a priest, and Virgin said that prayer was usually in the morning, and Ringer chose to pray in the evening, as he used to practice at night.

"Shabonny, listen to Wilgin and say that you can communicate with God by praying every day, is that true?"

Shabonny was lazily sleeping on the stall by the fireplace, and said with a smile: "I don't know about this, it is said to be like this, it is also divided into stages, the highest level, when the blood is gushing up, you can say hello to God, buddy, are we too deep into the play, sooner or later we will get out of the lesson plan, and we will be sued by that old guy Mohan." ”

Ringer didn't know what it meant when the blood was gushing up, and he smiled: "Wait until he sues, go to sleep, Shabonny." ”

Shabonny hurriedly said, "Don't tell me to sleep, I still want to talk to you." ”

"What do you want to talk about?"

"Anything goes."

"Then stop talking, and sleep, Pastor Shabonny."

Shabonny is like an obedient child, who sleeps when he says.

Ringer had to go upstairs and into the bedroom, and Shabonny had said the night before that he wanted to sleep in the same bed with Ringer, which scared Ringer into having nightmares for a night, but in fact, Rasputin used to sleep in the same bed with him.

The oil lamp in the study emitted a nice smell of lamp oil, which was like pine oil.

Ringer loves the taste of pine oil.

He was now accustomed to dim and yellowish lights, and the bright fluorescent lamps had no idea in his mind, and if they flickered occasionally, he would quickly forget.

It seems that I will soon become a real Father Rasputin.

After the door was locked, he took out a puppet from the bag, he needed to color the puppets, he found some paint in the church, Mohan liked to paint, Ringer saw his painting, it was very ordinary, like he painted his own church, Ringer thought it was too watery, or rather, his level of appreciation was very watery.

But it doesn't matter, just find the paint.

There were more than thirty puppets in the bag, which were the props that Ringer used to practice summoning the undead, a unique method of summoning.

Summoning different high-level undead requires different formations, and the position of the formation requires different puppets.

What kind of puppet is carved, Ringer is looking for it according to the method taught by the old liar, and he is very particular.

Although it can't be said that he became a real necromancer, in fact, the chance of becoming a real necromancer is too small, academically speaking, Ringer is not a good disciple at all, and he has learned a little less, and he has been thinking about killing his own guide all day long, how can he learn the essence of the guide.

However, if he can't reach the highest level and become a serious undead summoner, Ringer can do it, in other words, he wants to be a serious alternative priest who can summon the undead.

The idea came to me last night.

Shabonny may be right, being a priest seems to be much more comfortable than being a demon hunter, and in his mind, priests are similar to practitioners in other professions, and the element of pretending to be a god is far greater than the meaning of his own profession.

Babbling and flickering are his strengths.

In the real world that has passed, Ringer and the old crook live on those two virtual things.

The risky act of gilding his career as a priest may have been the next step, and the Dark Forest of Ghosts gave Ringer a vivid live lesson.

Ringer felt that the class had made him a little smarter.

Coloring the wood represents different attributes, such as white for cold, red for fire and blood, blue for spirits, purple for ghosts, and so on.

The old liar taught him that the formation is endlessly varied, dazzling, and moving a puppet casually is a formation, just like a Go master, and a seemingly random move on the chessboard can change the entire trend of the chessboard.

Ringer couldn't remember much, and he didn't understand the mystery.

Now, I have to grasp my brain and study it one by one.

Just like the skeleton man, something must be wrong, according to the normal procedure, he should summon a kind of flying undead or revenant.

I just colored the two puppets, and I always felt uneasy.

He put the puppets and paint away, and he was wondering if he needed to call the police.

That is, he needs to go to Sheriff Michal without need.

This is not only for the case of stealing horses, but also for Simslan, Valery, Diana, well, Welgin.

They all entered the ghost dark forest, but they didn't come out, it's been a few days, shouldn't they tell the police about this?

That night, he tossed and turned, and finally fell asleep.

In his sleep, the white-eyed old man in the ghost dark forest appeared, on crutches, and stopped him on a cliff: Say, who taught you the undead summoning technique, who is it, who is it, don't say it, I will kill you!

Ringer wanted to refuse, but the white-eyed old man pushed him off the cliff with a push of his hand, and Ringer suddenly woke up in fright.

When he woke up, he couldn't sleep anymore, he felt like he had a low-grade fever, like he had a cold.

He finally decided that after dawn, he would go to the town to find Michal and talk to him about the disappearance of the Demon Hunter, which should be a big case that Michal would take seriously.

(Thanks to Worm Dolei, book friend 20180225190538828, 0o night joy o0, unexpected troubles several big recommendation votes!) ）