"Brother Heyman, the saint asked you to meet him." Heyman's seventeenth sister whispered that she was one of the few who could not have to watch the entire trial and execution, because she had a more important task - to care for and comfort their saints, and she was also Miriam's sister, two years younger than her predecessor. As she spoke, the immature girl barely dared to look directly at Heyman, and there was a slight, inconspicuous but still palpable tremor in her voice, and it seemed that even if she had been in the room, she was not really ignorant of the outside world.

Heyman's pale face, soaked in cold wind and rain, suddenly glowed, like the last glow of a dying patient—his cheekbones were covered with red tides, his eyes were shining, and he didn't ask anything or when, for he immediately turned and walked briskly into the room, two demon-possessed sinners still burning, more than one hundred and fifty Strang Jacobs were still freezing in the rain, and all sorts of important papers were piled up, A staggering list of conversations and meetings filled all the time outside of prayer and practice, and no, it didn't matter anymore, had only Jared on his head. Strong Jacob, his father on earth, who gave birth to him, his master, his love, all of him—it had been a long time since the saint Jared had summoned Hayman, and as he grew older, he did not want to see his sons and nephews, nor his brothers, and every man younger and healthier than him would make him angry and anxious, and women over twenty years old would upset him, and fifty-four of his wives had been banished from his room, and he would not allow them to touch his body, The only ones who could surround him were the most immature and pure little buds, some of them his youngest daughters, and some of them his granddaughters.

Jared. Strong's room is located on the highest point of the mansion, and it has one-way visible glass on one side. The glass is silver-plated, strong and explosion-proof, and is often used in prisons, interrogation rooms of public prosecutors' offices, psychiatric hospitals, research rooms of university research institutes, and large conference rooms, behind which the saint Jared often observes his children and grandchildren—when necessary, it can also be opened, revealing the rooms behind—Jared's room is like a small sanctuary, with white marble walls covered with black oak wainscoting, and there are no windows except for the whole glass wall, Portraits of saints hang on the walls. Facing the glass wall is an altar made of walnut, covered with three layers of white linen, and even the feet are delicately carved with gilt gilt. inlaid with precious stones, a set of holy objects, a silver "sacristy plate" (sacrificial plate); The cup of wine, the "holy lord" (sacrificial lord), the lord with the lid on which the Eucharist is stored—called the "offering jue" or "holy box". On a small table next to it, there is a "wine bottle". There were also washbasins, hand cloths, and holy bells, boat-shaped furnaces, all of which were silver and old, and in the dark room they had a lustre as soft and gentle as a human tooth. There is no cross. There is only one painting as wide as an adult, depicting Jared (the founder of the Supervising Sect) being baptized and enlightened by an angel 500 years ago.

Jared in the painting is dressed in an unpretentious brown robe. Barefoot, full of gray hair, but not looking old, energetic, and nervous. The dark clouds were cracking a crack in the sky, and golden holy light spread over him. It was as if he had been clothed in a rich robe, and an angel was flying in the air, delivering a thick book with a simple binding and a quill.

It was the foundation of the overseer sect, which Jared called "the book of truth," and it contained the most comprehensive and correct interpretation of the Bible, which Jared had spent decades copying, and then, one morning, the angel took the book and pen back.

Jared, the founder of the Cult of Overseers, lived as long as Noah's son Jacob, that is, he lived a full hundred and forty-seven years, he was sixty years old when he received the call and the gift, and then he spent another thirty years transcribing the entire book of the True Arts, and for the next half century, as he had promised to God, he founded the Cult of Overseers, and let it take root, grow leaves, and bear fruit—he married forty-seven wives, and had one hundred and sixty sons and eighty-eight daughters, all pious and healthy, who were the first monks and nuns of the Supervising Order.

Our Jared stretched out his fingers and caressed the face of his eponymous founder with fascination and effort, until he was called by God, and the founder Jared never had any illness, and the day before he died, he was still preaching, swimming in the lake, and delivering a foal with his own hands.

"But because of the devil's jealousy, death entered the world." He hissed, and fell back into his wheelchair in exhaustion, and the maid next to him immediately prostrated his dusty finger into his mouth. Jared felt the moist and warm touch, relaxed his shoulders, and even closed his eyes slightly, "Get me a glass of wine." ”

The wine was quickly served in a silver tray, steaming hot, with oranges, cloves, and cinnamon, and a piece of chocolate resting next to it. The person carrying the wine was not the maid who had just walked out of the room, but. Strong Jacob.

"." Jared said, in a flat tone, neither happy nor angry.

"Yes, my father." Heyman bent his knees, knelt beside Jared, took his hand, and kissed the back of his wrinkled hand respectfully, and he found his father very old, and the skin of his lips was as brittle, dry, and cold as the preserved paper of an ancient book.

Jared withdrew his hand, and Heyman's skin was tight and smooth, and the heat of his blood was constantly emanating from below, which made him deeply disgusted. "Get out!" He shouted at the maid.

"How are you feeling now?" Hyman asked with concern, still on his knees, but straightened up, and raised his hand to touch Jared's forehead, which was densely wrapped in clean linen.

Jared turned his head away in disgust: "They've already smeared me with wine and oil. It was a small wound, broken open by a protruding ornament at the foot of the bed, the wound was only half the length of a little finger, and the blood that flowed was not enough to fill a spoon, and it would grow if left untreated, but the monks and maids who cared for Jared did not dare to be so lazy, and they wiped the wound with wine and olive oil in the manner described in the Bible. It is then wrapped in boiled linen.

"The devil that had attached to Miriam and the other boy had been banished," said, "and her mother was sentenced to exile, while the boy's mother was fined and placed under surveillance." ”

"Why was the boy's mother forgiven?" Jared slapped the armrest of the wheelchair in displeasure.

"The education of boys is not in the hands of women," said softly, "and tonight his teacher will be sent out, and his mother will soon be caught by the devil." ”

"Behold them, Heyman, behold them, behold our lamb," Jared muttered under his breath, "the devil is always everywhere. Whoever knows everything and has a relationship with him will be purged. ”

"Of course. Of course. also whispered in response, lowering his head and pressing his forehead against his father's knee.

Jared reached out and absentmindedly touched's head, "When will Harry come back?" That's what he really cared about, and that's the only reason he's summoned to come.

's breathing stopped for a moment. But he quickly adjusted: "Not yet, father, we haven't been able to find him yet." ”

Jared gave a bored smile, "Is it not yet, or never?" , have you really been looking for Harry? Don't ......" he made a gesture: "I don't want to hear your explanation." , whatever you've done before, I don't care. I'll just tell you," he ran his fingertips at Heyman's hair, and then grabbed them, his hand as strong as it had been twenty years ago, and Heyman was dragged in front of him. Tilting his face in embarrassment, "I'll give you two Sabbath days." Find him and tell him that I will allow him to come back. ”

He touched's face, his fingers resting on the corners of his eyes: "How young, how healthy, how vibrant...... Heyman, find him, I need Harry, his power is God-given, I gave birth to him, and he should return it to us. ”

"He will not return, he has fallen, he has been seduced by the devil, his soul is dark, it is you who have judged his sins and exiled him."

Jared smiled, and he understood his youngest son's thoughts, "So I can forgive him too—I remind you,, that jealousy is a great sin." His thumb against Heyman's eyeball, playing with the warm bead like a cheap glass ball, squeezing it, kneading it, completely ignoring the stiffness of his palm: "I love you, Heyman, my little son, but you can't do what I want you to do, it's okay, I know there's nothing you can do about it, I don't blame you for that, my son, but you have to do what you can do - find Harry." ”

"I can't find him." The pressure on his eyeballs increased almost at the same time, said, and the warm liquid spilled out of the corners of his eyes and into his hair: "He has converted to the old religion...... Father, he has even changed his name, his current Christian name is Stefan, Harry is dead! ”

"He's alive," Jared said coldly, his nails already digging into the hot, wet orb, "bring him back, Hyman, he has to work for his father, he belongs to me." Tell him that I will forgive him, and the Lord will forgive him, and I will take the fine robe for him, and put the ring on his finger, and put the shoes on his feet, and bring the fat calf to slaughter, and bring me hot wine to drink—all that I have will belong to him, and he will be the next Jared, the next saint. ”

"He's a sinner......" The pain made breathe a quick breath, he grabbed the armrest of the wheelchair, did not push his father away, did not run away, he knelt there, not moving: "But if it were your desire, I would do it, I will—soon, father, you have seen it too, Messiah...... The Messiah has appeared. ”

Jared looked at him suspiciously, "Is that the kid?" ”

"It's the boy," said, "Harry will come back, for him." ”

"He's not ours."

"It's going to be ours." "I'm ready, it's just a little bit of time," said. ”

Jared tilted his head and withdrew his finger, blood on his finger, and he licked it.

"I can't wait long for you," he said gloomily, "I don't have a lot of time left. ”

(To be continued)