The curtain of the carriage door was lifted, and the main entrance to the Count of Grasse's mansion was in front of him. Cole Fallon jumped out of the car, turned around and helped Roga out of the car.

Out of the ostentatious spirit of the aristocracy and their penchant for galloping horses, the carriages of Casas were generally pompous and ornate. The wheels he rented were half a man's height, and they were not very friendly to children and ladies.

Luo Jia took the priest's hand and stepped on the ground. All around were the chariots and horses of the nobles, and the lanterns held by the servants reflected the front of the Count of Grasse's mansion as bright as day. Almost everyone had a thin red thread on them, which merged into a scarlet river and slowly flowed into the gate.

Before the little original body could finish looking, Cole Fallon took out a gilded invitation from his sleeve and handed it to the manservant at the door. The latter took it, and bowed slightly without even opening it to look at it.

"Welcome, Truth-Bearer." He said softly. Due to the difference in height, he bowed his head with his face facing Luo Jia. It was a smooth and handsome face, but the eyes and lips were tightly closed. He also had a red thread hanging over his head.

This is not out of rudeness. Through the light pouring out from behind the other party, Xiao Yuan could see clearly that his eyes and mouth were densely sewn with silver threads, shining in the light. As he spoke, his lips did not move, and the voice came from his throat, which seemed slightly strange because of the barrier of flesh.

His complexion was ruddy, his blood flowing, and his breath was long, and he should be a sturdy adult. But from the second vision, the valet's soul emitted a bleak light, like a candle flame about to be blown by the wind.

Cole Fallon apparently noticed the anomaly. He didn't say anything, just led Luo Jia to the banquet hall.

The music is melodious, the lights are bright, and the skirts of the ladies are fluttering like flowers, falling in the middle of the elegant dance floor. The aristocratic woman who had just entered the arena took off her hat to protect herself from the cold and handed it into the hands of her personal servant, revealing her thin shirt decorated with flower branches. For a moment, Cole Fallon seemed to see the ceiling of this pleasure field turn into a huge mouth dripping with blood, and the smell of perfume and snuff rose and fell into the deep throat.

A pair of young girls looked curiously at the two newcomers, leaning against the pillar to hide their peeps. When Cole Fallon found out, they immediately hid their faces behind folding fans, and their beautiful faces were stained with a faint red tide.

"It's messenger slaves." He whispered in Luo Jia's ear, "This transformation is legal. ”

"What's the use of that?"

"The Baroness used to stitch the holes of dissidents and force them to walk in the desert carrying the corpses of their loved ones. Maybe it was the Count of Glass who showed his reverence for her, or maybe it was just a punishment for the servants. ”

For some reason, the pastor felt that the rain was getting heavier. The sound of rain trickled through the walls, touching his throat with an invisible coldness.

"Is this a fall?" Luo Jia asked slowly.

"It's a common thing." Cole Fallon replied. "Acts against slaves are not disproportionate, as long as they do not infringe upon the will of the mighty. Even in Casas. ”

"Who gave them the power?" Luo Jia's voice became softer. He turned his head away so that the priest could not see his expression.

Cole Fallon gestured. He was not a compassionate person, or rather, he valued only himself and the powerful truth. He could hear some extraneous meaning from the young prophet, but he could not figure out the real motives.

"All things are determined by power, which begets masters and slaves. Yet under the watchful eye of the mighty, we are all slaves. He replied ambiguously, hoping not to anger the prophet.

Luo Jia turned his head and looked back at the back of the manservant. "Who made him a slave?"

This question is much easier to answer. "I was in debt that I couldn't pay it, so much so that I had to sell myself into slavery. Either he broke the law, or he was born a slave. ”

"Do you think he should be a slave?"

“…… I do not know. I only know that the Mighty has charted the way for everyone, and that people will follow the Might's will until the end of their destiny. Every scourge he received as a slave was in the book of might. It is not that man enslaved him, that no one could resist the will of the Almighty, but that he was born to be enslaved. ”

Luo Jia nodded, asking a strange question.

"Are his creditors, judges, and masters all human beings?"

"Of course they are. The mutants of Shasheng are unclean beings and will die if they are discovered. ”

"What am I?"

Cole Fallon bowed his head humbly. "Thou art a mighty prophet, my master, our rod and shepherd."

Luo Jia stood still and slowly looked around. In the center of the ceiling, a chandelier hangs down, and the candlelight on it is refracted by the polygonal crystals, scattering the light into every corner, giving the whole hall a haze-free day. Each window is tightly drawn by velvet curtains. Under this glow, everyone looks elegant, surrounded by jewels, as if they were figures in a painting on paper.

"Are they human too?" He asked calmly.

At some point, Cole Fallon has a weird intuition. An inexplicable fear, like the abyss, as if death was in hot pursuit. He called it revelation, even though no one ever said he had prophetic qualities. With this instinct, he escaped two quicksands, an enemy pursuit, and a hunt by jackals. He believed that this was proof that the Great Power needed to live on his own.

And at this moment, a similar strange feeling spread in his heart. The roots of his hair stood on end, goosebumps stood up like electricity, and he almost regretted bringing Roga into the banquet.

With a click, the rosary in Cole Fallon's hand fell to the ground. It was not often that he took out the rosary. It was one of the few items he had stolen from his mentor and had been blessed by the virgin on her chest. Without warning, the tenacious threads crumbled, and the beads splattered in all directions, each with deep vertical marks.

The sound should have been drowned out by the laughter of the crowd - it should have been. If that were the case, Colfaron would still be able to reluctantly deceive himself and tell himself that it was just an accident. But for some reason, the moment the rosary was taken off his hand, all the sounds stopped. The person in the conversation frowned in confusion and briefly lost his mind from the conversation. Even the band stopped and looked at the conductor in amazement. The popping sound of the beads echoed through the hall where the pins could be heard, reaching everyone's ears.

At this moment, Cole Fallon had no time to care about the destruction of the treasure. Any movement of an item tainted with divine aura is a sign of evil action. All eyes were on the two of them.

Before he could explain anything, a cold wind suddenly rushed into the hall. It brutally lifted the thick curtain that blocked the cold, through the tightly clogged windows, and blew mercilessly through the hall, swallowing up the warm air. The gentlemen's faces were pale, the ladies trembled, and their delicate faces withered in fear.

Luo Jia looked at it expressionlessly, and in the dead coldness, he nodded slightly.

"Yes," the prophet's voice was as light as the breeze, caught only by Cole Fallon's ears. "They're all human beings."

He paused, and continued, as if disappointed, "Man can be a slave. ”

The violet eyes faithfully reflected everyone's fear and panic, and the crimson threads dangling from each person's skull. Thin intricate lines converged over the hall and zigzagged behind a door.

"You're all slaves."