The night receded, and the early morning sun pierced the clouds. It's still raining, and it's been eleven days. In the pouring rain, Litatra ushered in this year's Holy Spirit Month.

People began to celebrate, and some messengers began to walk the streets with loudspeakers that would automatically announce the news, hoping to inform everyone. In Litatra, they are one of the very few who still need to work for a while today.

But yes, there are always those who don't know when they live, and there are many people who are vaguely alive, otherwise these messengers would not have to work.

Those fools never care what day 'today' is, just as they don't care if they wake up every morning and sleep on the side of the road or in the stinking ditch.

I'm afraid that only the annual Emperor's Ascension Festival can touch these numb souls.

However, compared to Ascension, the Holy Spirit Moon is different, it is a different thing.

As we all know, the beliefs of the state religion are very 'tolerant', and as long as you believe in the emperor, it sometimes doesn't really matter how you do it.

Missionaries who went to various places to proselytize were free to adapt to local conditions and use the texts in their hands to transform a belief in the god emperor that suited the local social ethos. The Holy Spirit Moon is the work of the missionary who came to Litatra.

According to the Gregorian calendar given by the Empire, the month of the Holy Spirit is the fifth month of each year. Those with decent jobs receive a subsidy on the first day of the month, which they can use to improve their lives or waste them in illegal casinos.

As for those who don't see the light and those who stay in the gray area. They also had their own way of celebrating, namely a brief truce.

No one knows who made this rule, but after so many years of convention, it has been deeply ingrained in the marrow of the Litatra people.

No one will shoot and murder in the month of the Holy Spirit—unless they really harbor a great hatred and can no longer tolerate their enemies living in this world for even one day.

If things get to this point, then things will start to be arranged in advance, such as two knives, a field, and two people who don't wear any armor.

In the midst of the raucous crowd, Tujea rubbed his brow with a slight headache.

He turned his head and whispered to Horst, who was standing beside him, "Is it really legal to do this?" ”

The smiling priest shrugged his shoulders, pointed to a bald man standing outside the fence of the field, and said, "Did you see him?" ”

Tujea glanced indistinctly at the man who was clinking glasses with the people around him, whose bulging belly was particularly prominent, holding his shirt comically and ridiculously.

"See, what's wrong?"

"He's the deputy inspector of the first district." The pastor said. So, in Litatra, it's perfectly reasonable and legal for this kind of thing. In fact, there are many people in the law enforcement system who are looking forward to the arrival of the Holy Month. ”

He smiled meaningfully at Tujea.

The investigator finally nodded speechlessly, not surprised by such a thing, but a little worried about whether it was legitimate.

For him, this bloody tradition was not surprising, and each world of the empire had different customs and cultures.

Take, for example, the Ascension Day, which in some regions usually means a feast and a massive worldwide celebration. In other places, however, it can turn into a bloody battle ritual.

One skilled man and woman after another would pay a great price to prove themselves to the emperor, and death was even considered a great honor to accompany the emperor.

Tujea had seen so much that he was not surprised by this folklore, but he was a little worried.

Not for anything else, just for this new job that he has just joined for eleven days.

"The battle begins!"

Suddenly, someone shouted. Tujea interrupted his thoughts, raised his head, and looked into the middle of the humble field. On the hard concrete floor, two shirtless men were looking at each other warily.

Each of them had a sharp knife in his hand, which seemed to have been brought by himself, and it was sharpened. Surprisingly, these two people look very much alike.

They all have dark skin and broad faces, and even their hair is the same curl. Tujea frowned and glanced sideways at Horst. Before he could ask anything, the priest whispered an explanation to him in the midst of a noisy crowd of cheers.

"These are the two brothers of the Tobert family, the shorter one is the eldest brother, and the taller one is the younger brother. Since the death of their mother three years ago, the two brothers have been at odds with each other. ”

"Why?"

"Who knows?" The priest shook his head. "Fratricide."

He seemed to sigh, and the two brothers in the center of the field also rushed towards each other at this time.

Their boots made an unpleasant grinding sound against the concrete, and both men clenched their teeth and raised their sharp knives towards each other. About half a second later, two smears of blood splattered out.

The eldest son of the Tobert family stabbed his brother in the left hand with a knife, but he did not gain much. The younger brother cut his brother's cheek with the sharp blade in his hand very fiercely, and the wound was so deep that it almost seemed to split the face in two.

They covered each other's wounds, took a few steps back, and cursed in pain.

"You're really dead!" The elder brother roared in anger. "Mommy will spit on you! Bastard! ”

The younger brother sneered loudly, and his trembling left hand made a sloppy gesture to his brother.

"Less of this! Where were you when Mom died? She sent you a letter twenty days in advance, and you'd rather fool around in a brothel than come back to see her again! ”

"I didn't receive the letter!"

"Fuck you!" The younger brother scolded angrily. "it! I don't care about you! Die, you bastard! ”

Tujea lifted his hat with a strange look on his face, watching the two charge at each other again.

About half a minute later, the younger brother slit his brother's throat with a knife, but there was no joy or emptiness on his face after the vengeance, only a fear that he finally realized what he had done.

Trembling, he threw down the knife in his hand and rushed towards his brother, trying to save him.

At this point, the crowd was forcefully pushed away, and two white-robed medical officers walked to the center of the field with expressionless faces, and after doing simple medical measures, they carried the elder brother onto a simple stretcher and carried him away from the field.

The younger brother followed, with tears in his eyes, and kept shouting about his mother.

The crowd reacted heavily, with some booing the duel and others being touched and happy that the fratricide had a happy ending

Tujea isn't any of the above, but he's not one of those guys waiting to get on the pitch either.

If anything, he was just a mere bystander, and he and Horst stayed in the crowd estranged, waiting for the next vendetta to be justified.

"Oh, there's a good show to watch now." The priest suddenly said with great interest.

"Why?"

"Because the next people to take the stage are two people who really have a deep hatred"

Horst gave a more terrifying smile and pointed his finger at the two undressed men in the crowd.

Tujea looked up, his brow furrowed.

He first saw a middle-aged man covered in tattoos, with gloomy eyes and a straight mustache, slowly taking off his elaborate three-piece suit.

The other person is much simpler and much younger. He has short hair, a long scar on the right side of his face, and a bright red skeleton tattooed on his forehead.

"You know these two, too?"

Horst smiled, tapped his temples and answered Tujea's question very calmly.

"Of course, I've lived here for almost twelve years—the bearded gentleman is called Elvis, and the young man is Billy Payson."

"Elvis killed Billy's parents ten years ago, and ten years later, Billy, who didn't know how to survive, returned with a new gang. You probably know what he wants to do, so I won't say more. ”

"Gangster feuds?" Tujea asked.

"Yes, and it's the most classic one." Horst nodded appreciatively, still looking at the two, or rather, at Billy Payson.

At this moment, they had finished tidying up and were walking towards the center of the field with their knives. The cheers of the crowd erupted again, but Tujea was in no mood to watch any longer, his brows furrowed, and he looked slightly bored.

There was no other reason than the man named Elvis. The closer he got to the centre of the pitch, the tighter Tujea's hands clenched.

In his vision, one illusory point of light after another floated out from behind the man who knew nothing, forming many figures, and then the voices came.

Voices complaining, voices about how they were murdered by Elvis, and the last scream before they died. They reverberated endlessly, causing Tujea's heart to beat faster, his breath short, and his eyes red.

If Horst hadn't pulled him out of the crowd in time, I'm afraid he would have pulled out his gun and killed Elvis with one shot.

They returned to the street in silence, staying under a plastic canopy. The raindrops fell sparsely, creating a disturbing figure on it.

Tujea took a deep breath and spoke slowly.

"That Alveson."

"Yes, I know." The priest replied softly, but shook his head at him. "But now is not our time."

Tujea was silent for a while, and then said: "I don't understand the point of this, if Billy Payson fails to overcome him, won't we let a man with a reasonable conscience die in vain?" There are no unjust souls behind him. ”

The priest sighed and began to explain patiently.

"There is never a shortage of people with a conscience in the nest, just as there is never a shortage of villains here. You have to go beyond these phenomena and see the essence directly, you know? ”

"Essence?"

"Yes." The priest nodded. "Essentially, it's just two people who hate each other and want to kill each other."

"Elvis hates Billy's parents, and the kid who ran away. He didn't expect Billy to do that damage to his forces when he returned, even to the point of killing his son. ”

"As for Billy Payson. The revenge of killing his father and mother, taking out one piece alone is enough for one person and the murderer to never die, not to mention that Alveson did two in one go. There is a great hatred between them, and revenge has always been the same, and it is very fair. ”

"But, those who died in vain—"

Horst interrupted him with a calm expression, and then he spoke in an unmistakable tone.

If he hadn't died, we'd have visited him tonight, and hatred should have a place anyway. The month of the Holy Spirit lasts for thirty-one days, and you better be prepared, Tujea. ”

The former investigator and the current novice redresser nodded with a complicated expression.

——

Zell reached out and lifted a woman upside down.

She screamed and struggled, trying to get rid of the terrible monster that had just killed her entire family, but to no avail. She could only watch as Zell led her little by little to the edge of her own terrace.

The wind blew in her face and made her almost unable to open her eyes. Zell listened to her screams and pleading, and slowly let go of her fingers, and the woman immediately screamed in a louder voice, tears streaming down her eyes, the effects of gravity that made her almost faint.

Zell left her dry for half a minute before putting her back on the safe ground.

As soon as the woman hit the ground, she cried and crawled to the back room, her mind completely crushed. Zell glanced at her and threw a short knife that was specifically designed to be thrown, which brutally pierced the woman's left thigh and pinned her to the ground.

Zell bent down, grabbed her legs, and began to drag her back little by little. By the time the blade sliced her thighs alive, the woman collapsed just right.

It was only then that Zell pulled out his blade in satisfaction, grabbed her hair, and began to ask some questions. A few minutes later, he broke the woman's neck, pierced her forehead with a knife, and pinned her to his living room.

The first evil always deserves some special treatment.

The last thing he did was press the alarm. After doing this, he left the mansion on the upper floors of the nest.

Clouds lingered, towers and circular tracks cut through the sky, high-speed trains whizzed by, and nervous high-ranking Litatra police officers sat in it, running towards the place where the alarm was generated, not noticing that two dark shadows were looking down coldly above them.

As they watched them move away, Zell slowly put on his helmet. It's daytime, and besides, the place they are in is a little too high. If he didn't wear a helmet, he could be blind for days.

"You don't like the habit of wearing a helmet and sooner or later you're going to kill yourself, Zell." 'My lord' said coldly.

"I don't care." Zell said. "Let's get down to business instead of talking about my bad habits, sir?"

"What do you want to talk about?"

Zell shrugged: "I don't know, maybe talk about the other twenty-one families on the list, right?" God Emperor, why are there always so many nobles in the nest capital? ”

"They were all dead last night." The adult sneered. "The local governor also paid a special visit, and after explanation, he fully understood the necessity and importance of our work, and he agreed to the terms we proposed."

"So, the only thing left to do is to clean up the lower levels of the nest?" Zell asked, tilting his head.

Another train whizzed by, making a loud noise. The two black shadows didn't care, they just jumped onto the power column of another circular track, and even started running along the sturdy energy transportation pipe.

The adult spoke in a cold tone, and the optical cloak hunted in the wind.

"Probably, you're in charge, Zel. We have a new list, and the rate of chaos corrosion is still staggering, and even many mid-level officers in Litatra's local defense forces have thrown themselves into the arms of desire. ”

Zell sighed.

"What? Are you upset? The adult asked.

"No, I just don't think we're efficient enough."

Zell's words brought the Lord to a screeching halt, and a cold wind blew in, curling the mark of purity that hung on his right shoulder armor. Zell tilted his head helplessly, knowing that he was about to be reprimanded at length again.

However, he deserved it.

"Efficiency? This is not a terror or a raid on a mutinous world, it's impossible to be as quick as ever, and Litatra is still a largely loyal world. ”

"Every traitor deserves to die, and in the same way, every loyalist deserves their hard-won life. We have a special gift, and we deserve to use it well."

"We are one of the most terrifying inquisitors in the world, so we must be cautious. Do you want to be like the fools who have been written into the inquisition's textbook and can't help but push everyone they think is a traitor to the fire and burn them to death? ”

"Yes, yes, I see, my lord" Zell raised his hand and tapped the side of his helmet. "I really get it, don't read it anymore."

"I see you understand very limitedly." The adult said with a sneer. "Well, the brothers of the warband still have half a natural month to sail, and I will apply for a special wheel battle for you on the Night Soul in advance."

"How about you being able to face twenty elite-level fighter servants with the same bare hands as Yago Sevitalyon? Doesn't that fit your mind about speed and efficiency? ”

"Ah, not only that, but you can still make a good show, great Zell, if you don't have a blue nose and swollen face, and a broken hand."

"My martial arts instructor isn't Siani from Terra." Zell replied, and ran into a dark tunnel with the adults.

The object of his argument said nothing more, and here they parted ways with him, leaving him with only a series of disdainful sneers.

Annoyed, Zell cursed a local dialect in the communication channel, and jumped down the reserved tunnel maintenance elevator shaft, heading towards the lower level of the hive.

Everything is proceeding in an orderly and orderly direction in the direction they want.

New avengers are being cultivated, the Chaos Corruption of Litatra is being purged bit by bit, and the Night Soul is sailing with the Shadow Knights.

Ironically, but, for the first time in the long time since it became the titular flagship of the Shadow Knights, it carried so many members of the warband. Recruits, veterans, and even the venerable who have been buried in the dreadnought

and Shen, the only Shen. Shen has been the head of the war group for thousands of years, and is firmly bound to the deepest part of the Night Soul by five hideous chains.

For the sake of a prophecy, a picture seen in a hallucination, he endured to this day. Of all the children of the Night King, he is the only one who can maintain himself for thousands of years in a prison made of chains of vendettas.

For this reason, the state religion has even secretly thrown out olive branches many times, hoping to give Shen some kind of canonization. However, to this day, he has not accepted this matter.

In his own words, if he really accepts it, then the matter seems ridiculous.

"It's true, but"

Yago Sevitaleone spread out his hands and smiled nonchalantly.

"Isn't Shen very brainless? Obviously, cooperating with the state religion is beneficial and harmless, but he just doesn't want to accept it. ”

No one answered, only one after another blew over the Bone Wasteland, and after all these years, the wasteland outside the Altar of the End was still white.

Sevita waited patiently for a moment, but no one answered him, but he nodded to himself and continued.

"It's been 10,000 years, and we finally have a piece of revived fragment but, it's hard to get started, isn't it, Sergeant Tadeus?"

No one answered.

"Valtek? Nuang? Orfion? Keg? ”

Still no one spoke.

"Well, you still don't want to see me. So, what about the old guys? Van Cleef! Company Commander Ariel! Anyone? Phil? I know you're here, and you came out to fight with us once a few years ago! Say a word! ”

The wind was still there, and all that remained in the wasteland was this hollow echo except his own voice.

Yago Sevitaleon laughed slowly, slowly.

"Okay." He shrugged. "Whatever you are, especially you, Terra's."

He lowered his head, took a bone face from his bosom, and put it on his face. With a flash of golden light, he vanished, and the wasteland fell silent again.

There was no tall black shadow wrapped in pitch-black flames slowly rising from the ashes, no one whispering at his weakness in the wind, only the louder and louder wind, and a tall giant walking slowly from not far away.

He lowered his head and raised his hands, holding a small white glow, dotted with stars, as if the Milky Way was in his palm. He looked at them with a gentle look and led them behind the altar.

Here, there is no smell of embers in the wind, and the ground is no longer a miserable white ashes. It was just a place of pure and quiet darkness, with a faint cold moonlight shining down from the sky, illuminating the coffins. Some are closed, others are opened

The giant buried the points of light one by one in it, and then looked back. In the moonlight, a smile suddenly appeared on his pale face.

"Ah, Sai." He chuckled. "Again? There's no way they can respond to you."

He laughed, turned into a gust of wind, and dissipated in place. The moonlight is still there, the coffin is closed, and there seems to be a sound of sleep, and the place is peaceful.

(End of chapter)