January is the most comfortable time of the year in Kolkata, with little rain and little rain, but the good times are always short-lived, and as the time enters February, the temperature rises quickly and makes people feel the heat rush.

Not long after the horrific massacre, the murderer has not been caught, but Calcutta is not much different from usual, and the poor people in the slums are more concerned about whether or not they will have dinner tonight than they are worried about the elusive murderer.

At the site of the murder, most of the security forces around the dying home have been withdrawn, and when asked by the media when the killer was caught, the local police will only speak in an official tone.

Time dilutes everything, and despite the noise of the Holocaust, there will always be an endless stream of news that diverts people's attention, and humans are always good at forgetting.

On this day, several luxury cars that looked very high-end were parked in front of the dying home, in stark contrast to the surrounding dilapidated private cars that had lost their paint and could not be seen in their original colors.

The homeless people who had nothing to do nearby crouched in the shadows, their deep eye sockets shooting a burning gaze, staring at the doors of the luxury cars, guessing where the big man came from.

There was still a cordon around the dying house, and no one dared to cross the cordon and enter it except for the little ones who were trying their guts, after all, the facts of what happened that day were terrible, and the blood flowing from the dying home stained the whole street red, and several policemen who arrived at the scene went in to take a look, and then ran out and vomited.

Although the corpse has been cleaned up, it is said that if you enter the dying house at night, you will hear the wailing of the dead spirits, and this theory was first circulated among the children who tried their gall, and then they spread out, and it is rumored that there was a child who went in to try his gall and never came out and disappeared without a trace.

The doors opened.

A few feet in crisp white stockings stepped onto the dusty ground one after another.

It's a woman!

The female reconnaissance radar of the homeless people lit up the alarm, their eyes widened with excitement, their breath became short, and their free hands crept into their crotches.

Just by looking at the shape and curvature of these ankles, you know that the owner of the foot is definitely a fair lady.

A few figures walked out of the car, and they felt the obscene gaze of the homeless people, and glanced at them coldly, as if they were looking at the scum.

The homeless men let out a sigh of disappointment, they thought they would see hot beauties, but the few people who came out of the car were all wrapped in black robes, their faces hidden in the shadow of their hoods.

The silver cross hung around their necks, swaying slightly as they walked.

Some homeless people are even more excited, because it makes them feel blasphemous against the clergy - as Hindus, they should not be punished for masturbating at a Catholic nun, right?

That's right, the figures were all clergy, five nuns to be exact.

Their nun robes were slightly different from the usual nun robes, with hoods instead of headscarves, and a round white ruffle collar around the neck, all of which were black.

Oh, and the stockings that occasionally show when they lift their feet are also white.

What are the nuns doing here?

Pray for the dead in the dying house, or do you want to go beyond the unjust souls who linger in the dying home?

The homeless people don't care about this, anyway, they pay homage first.

It was evening, it was getting dark, and when it got dark, the thirsty homeless people would rush up, strip them of their sacred nuns' robes, and commit collective sexual crimes against them.

The five nuns did not seem to notice the homeless man's gaze that was so hot that they could almost penetrate the nun's clothes, they surveyed the dying house, then lifted the cordon, and their figures disappeared into the dying house.

The dying home was as quiet as a tomb, the floor had been cleaned, but it was still red, even the bottom of the walls was red, red two or three centimeters above the floor, you can imagine how much blood was shed here that day.

The room was empty and there were no lights.

The five nuns lifted their hoods back, revealing their faces.

They were all young, and the leader was a blonde and blue-eyed Western woman who looked to be no more than twenty years old, but her eyes were extremely sharp.

They stood in front of the statue of Mother Teresa, which was splattered with a trail of dried blood.

A nun wipes the blood from the statue with a tissue.

At the same time, they made crosses on their chests, held the cross, and bowed their heads to pray to the statue of Mother Teresa.

"Dear Mother Teresa, if someone dares to desecrate this holy place, we must find out the truth and punish the murderer severely!" Catherine swore on behalf of everyone.

With a gloomy face, she gestured to the other four nuns, and the five of them split up to search the dying house.

The police have searched the place countless times, and all the useful and useless evidence has been taken away, and the nun's search is doomed to be in vain.

The red floor and bed are outlined with white lime lines, but these "humanoids" are headless humanoids.

"Catherine, here. "One of the nuns noticed something worth noting.

The blonde Catherine walked briskly over.

The nun pointed to a mark on the bed, "like a sword cut, but not the same." ”

This mark should be the scar left on the bed by the murderer after the murderer cut off the victim's head, and the murder weapon has not disappeared.

But if you are a master who controls your own strength with ease, it stands to reason that you should move freely, without wasting any extra strength, and the power you use should just cut off the head and then retract it, and there should be no extra slash marks.

Catherine stared at the scarf, immediately noticing the strangeness of the scar, and she pressed her hand lightly on the side of the scarf.

Crash.

The bed collapsed along the extension of the slash and broke in half.

"Strange, the scar is obviously not deep, why ......," the nun next to her said in surprise.

Catherine shook her head, "The bed is not cut from the outside in, but from the inside out, and the inside of the wood has been destroyed by some force. ”

"Mortals don't have that power, and now it's confirmed that it was a transcendent who caused this massacre...... No, a demon!" Catherine concluded.

The other nun nodded, "Do you want to report to the head priest now?"

"No, I'll take care of this matter at my discretion, and I'll report it to the head of the house when the demon is apprehended. Catherine said arbitrarily.

The nuns stopped talking, fearing that Catherine would have overwhelming strength like last time, but instead of choosing to arrest the enemy, she killed the enemy directly, and then declared in front of the shepherd that the enemy had resisted violently and swore to the death, so she had to kill her......

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Stealing incense