"What do you mean?" Green's expression fluctuated only for a moment, and when the fire of hay shone on his face, the tight wrinkles had been smoothed.

He pulled a chair from his desk, placed it next to the emblem, sat down and used his body to block the enshrinement below, stretched out his hand and pointed to the other, motioning for the other party to change his posture and talk again.

The visitor did not refuse, pressed the armrest, and placed himself on the chair. As it moves, water droplets seep and drip from the corners of the pants, wring out of the gaps in the upper threads and gathering together under the feet.

He did not answer the priest's rhetorical question, but continued to wear the inconspicuous grin, the muscles of his upper lip twitching slightly from the constant tension, and his pupils meeting the priest's eyes in the elongated sockets.

In the wrestling eye-to-eye, Green was the first to lose. It wasn't because of the pressure that those eyes couldn't find anything they should have, whether it was inquiry, intimidation, or insight.

In the face of a frozen wall, a corner of a giant object, it is difficult to decipher the rich emotions that an individual should have. Through the window of the mind, one can only see something huge roaming around, obscuring something else.

A pain haunts the mind, but it is not realistic, but a reflection of past experiences, drawn out by an inexplicable force.

Green felt that he had not completely detached himself from the dream, or that something had been brought out of his soul like an appendage, and that he had a seizure when he was touched.

“.”

A mumble rang out in the room.

Sandor's lips were closed, and he nodded in satisfaction with the expression that seemed to be a smile but not a smile.

It wasn't a hallucination, Green was sure the other had heard it, and it was blistering under a tile in the corner of the room. He tried to control the urge to look sideways, which would reveal that he was unaware and unprepared for it.

So he just twisted his body a little and changed his posture, while quietly shifting his center of gravity so that he could turn around and take his sword if necessary.

"You hear me." The monk affirmed, sitting upright and stiff, a position that caused a sore lower back and numb legs and feet when he stood up, and it seemed that he didn't care, and he didn't notice Green's dangerous little adjustment.

"The voice over there, the sound of it."

"What is 'it'?" Despite the risks, Green decided to try to get more information.

Surely something had happened to the monk, perhaps similar to what had happened to him, but deeper and more severe, causing a lesion of thought and behavior, similar to what they had experienced in that mausoleum.

But they've been gone for a while, and it stands to reason that the effects should fade away with the distance between time and space.

"You've seen it, we've all seen it." Unwavering fanaticism, moth-like blindness. Logical thinking, values, and the instinct to avoid harm, the naïve and innate shaping of people is being washed away, and he is being reshaped.

I have to admit that what is in front of me is no longer the person in the past, but a walking corpse with a controlled body and soul.

"Is it something we saw in the mausoleum?"

"Of course not." The monk dismissed Green's speculation, and there was a self-contradictory hesitation, "No, that's it. ”

"It's all it, but it's bigger, much bigger than that." He waved his arms wildly, referring to some kind of volume that could not be summed up or measured, more magnificent than the church he was in, "but not enough." ”

"Not enough?"

"Yes, it's still a little close, we can go first." The smile was thick, as if standing in front of the gate of heaven, the holy word was already in the ear, and it only took one more step to reach the realm of bliss, "They have to go too." ”

The confusion deepened, and in Green's understanding, it seemed to refer to another group of people, "'They', who are they?" ”

Sandor rose from his chair, which heightened the tension in the room, and Green was ready to strike before he made any suspicious moves.

But he bypassed Green, went straight to the window, and pushed open the window.

The sleet breeze brought the night inside, and much of the city had fallen asleep, but not in complete silence. There was always a sound from far and near, a procession of armored patrols in the square below, a performance of a banquet somewhere in the vicinity, wheels and hooves knocking on the stone pavement, indicating that this was a living city.

A few lights adorn the night rain, and the river port on the banks of the Term River is still functioning, and the silhouettes of docked ships can be seen from their place.

These commonplace things are reassuring at this time, even more so than the protection of churches and holy texts.

Sandor just stood in front of the window, not saying a word, unable to see the expression on his backlit face.

"Them."

He repeated, with a quivering smile in his tone, as if something was plucking his vocal cords and playing a strange joyous note.

"Who are they?" Green found it harder than he thought to understand these people, and probably their linguistic abilities had been burned out along with their logical abilities, and they were unable to organize more complex sentences than these esoteric short sentences.

Perhaps thinking that he had already made it clear, Sandor did not answer, and continued on his own.

"It is the door, it is the answer, it is the path to end suffering and misery."

As if by psychological suggestion, the pain intensified, and Green felt restless, a mixture of physical and mental pain, like the dark claustrophobia once trapped in some windowless room, intensifying countless times before gaining form and burrowing into his mind.

And then comes a sense of liberation, the instinctive feeling that if you follow the guidance of this feeling, you can attain permanent liberation, it is the soft bedding that wraps the body, the vast space that indulges the soul, the aggregation of a thousand voices, the enchanting white light.

Green tried to bite his tongue until the smell of blood filled his mouth, the pain at the tip of his tongue not worth mentioning in the painful memories it evoked.

But the feeling lasted short, and when he recovered from the chaos, Brother Sandor was still standing at the window, as if attracted by the night scene outside.

"You'll need some guidance, monk." Green got up silently and pressed his hand on his sword, "There is a monastery three days away from Dunling, the environment is very good, I will send you to live there for a while." ”

"No need, Father, I'm fine."

"It's not up to you." Green has already thought about the resistance and treatment he may encounter next, and the next step is to control this guy and send him to the mountain monastery to be locked up for ten days and a half, maybe he can get better.

Sandor didn't turn around, nor did he intend to make a drastic move, letting the person behind him slowly approach, "You don't seem to want to go for the time being, but it's okay, everyone has a chance." ”

"It's coming, whether you, me, or them, it's going to be included." He stretched out his arms and embraced the night view from the entire window, overlooking the sleeping, ignorant city.

"Add that and it'll always be enough."

"Something that should be rolled into hell!" Green finally understood what "they" meant, and it was not a chill or anger that urged him to act, and he pounced on Sandor and knocked him to the ground, calling the Night Watch.

The unsettling, stiff smile that was still carved into his face before he was taken away, resembling the ominous mask worn by some evil wizard when he made a prophecy.

Push a new book of group friends, "Survival Guide to the Universe", although it is still very short, but the part that can be seen so far is already very good, with a unique style, it is recommended to taste.

(End of chapter)