Chapter 1075: Souls and Dancers (8)

　　In addition to the eight elders, the room was also packed with tall slaughterers and mutant seniors.
The deputies hovered around the chairs of their elders like eagles. Their role was not informal or permanent, but derived from the continuation of the tradition of blood worshipping the ancient disciples-that is, an elder expected to have what he could trust behind him. People.
　　According to the regulations, as the most senior person in the Octagon Star Council, the elder of the silent star strode on the outer edge of the Octagon Star Club, as if to outline a spiritual protection zone.
　　In this room, this gathering has not been seen for several years, but more than half of the space is still vacant.
The bishops and attendants, the slaughterers and the sergeants, all crowded towards the illuminated pillar of the curved chair, as refugees in the war flocked to the crackling flames, and no one dared to sit on the chair that was still empty .
　　Charles Manson looked at each face, especially those who responded to each other, and divided everyone in the heart of the upcoming debate.
　　 Some of them are especially clear.
　　 Like Colin Bartley, the elder of the silent star.
　　 Others are not easy to speculate.
　　Lorcelli may be Manson's favorite, but he is not someone's minions, the two of them are still more cooperative.
　　 Only that Lawson, it is a true thorn.
　　Molière's attitude is the most difficult to speculate. It is said that he is a moody person. The only thing he knows is that this ancient warrior in the armor will never bow his head to anyone.
　　At the same time, Movalis, the enchantress of the blood maiden sect, has the character of seeing the wind and rudder.
　　 "Obviously, the Patriarch does not seem to want to come here."
　　 After a moment, Manson whispered.
　　 Others murmured, not like the sound, but more like the expected tremor, soft and calm.
"Where is he?"
　　 Brigadier General Movalis asked, looking around, as if the supreme ruler of blood worship would emerge from the shadows.
　　 "The Patriarch is meditating."
　　Said Charles Manson.
　　 "He is worried."
　　Collin Bartley corrected the opponent's wording, but did not raise his gaze staring at the floor.
　　 This statement did not cause a gasp of denial, which may have been the case six months ago.
　　 "Since the Great Elder of the Diocese of Tyre has fallen, he has stopped visiting the Octagon Star Council."
　　Elon said, bold because of Colin Bartley's frank comments.
　　 "But I found him in his private room."
　　Manson's words turned everyone's attention to him.
"And I."
　　Batley added, and then the two elders exchanged their gazes, their chairs facing each other at the curved end of the eight chairs.
　　Manson first nodded, because after a while someone always wanted to speak, Bartley then nodded and responded.
　　The old negotiation rules are reflected here. After all, it is inconsistent to see the most senior elders of the parliament arguing here.
　　 "We didn't find him."
　　 "Neither of you will."
　　Locheri's voice was like a tendon stretched on a stone mill.
　　 "If he wants to hide, he can't find it."
　　 "Why does he want to hide?"
　　 asked Locheri, his hands folded, his fingers interlaced on the table.
　　 "Why doesn't he want to see the world of false gods burn?"
　　 "Because it is not us who are burning it, but the green monsters."
　　Manson said sharply, then took a deep breath, adjusted himself in a more calm tone, and continued to speak.
　　 "Those despicable animals launched fierce revenge because of contempt. This is the end. Looking at every inch of land they have destroyed, so much blood is not dedicated to the blood god, it is proof of our failure."
　　 Speaking, the unsmiling Rosen suddenly looked sad.
　　 They put a lot of blood and encouragement on this way of extinction, but these hard work were crushed mercilessly by Ok, and they were almost in vain.
　　 "After the Patriarch joins us, let's start this debate."
　　 "He will not join us."
The elder of the silent star suddenly muttered in a low voice.
　　 This was his first voice since he sat down, and the other elders immediately looked at him to be explained.
　　 But he just shrugged his shoulders and did not respond.
　　 "Are we going to start without him?"
　　Batley said, he stood up, his footsteps echoed through the room as he paced.
　　 "Must be."
　　 "Agree."
　　 "Agree."
　　After all the elders agreed, the elder of the silent star nodded.
　　The real silence came to the rally.
　　 was not temporarily calmed by the power of Manson or Bartley, but a tense comprehension of the weight of the decision they had to make.
　　 Normally, such a decision should be in the hands of the Patriarch, because what is being debated here will determine the destiny of the Order and of humanity itself.
　　 "Then a decision must be made."
　　Manson announced.
　　 "Either continue the ceremony or give up immediately, and everyone evacuates Dunwich."
　　'S words didn't stop, Locheri cleared his throat nervously.
　　 As the chief intelligence officer within the Order, he is a calm and focused person with a diligent and low-key command style, but he has to admit that standing in such a rare and highly influential meeting must make him feel a little nervous.
　　 But as the "opening" of this rally, this is his duty and right.
　　Lorcelli stepped forward, bowed down on one knee to the empty throne of the Patriarch, and then the clothes of those who had not yet sat down murmured, and all knelt down with him.
　　Those who are allowed to carry armed forces~EbookFREE.me~ pulled out their weapons in the sound of steel scraping, and the tip stood on the floor.
　　 Prior to the war, it was commonplace in the past to gather high-level slaughterers and god-selected lords for such secret meetings, but these days it is very rare. It seems that the patriarch would feel uncomfortable when accompanied by everyone.
　　 He became more segregated, each time only a few senior executives were summoned, or more one-on-one.
　　 "Elders, adults, blood warriors."
　　 Luocheri paused, bowed his head before the brass-colored imprint of the blood god, as if praying for courage, then stood up and turned around.
　　At the same time, every kneeling person in the room also got up at the same time, and those who pulled out their weapons also recovered their murder weapons.
　　 "Since 8:56 today, the brass gate ceremony has completed 80% of the progress of the project."
　　 The priests applauded obediently, the soldiers cheered loudly, Manson was hitting the wooden cushion of the chair with his knuckles, and Bartley hit the edge of the tabletop with the round handle of his sheathed sword.
　　 This is far less than the cheers of the twelfth Grand Jihad victory nine weeks ago.
　　 At that time, they all witnessed the death and destruction of the oldest church in the Kaimon Church in the old world, and experienced the joy of revenge.
　　 is very different now.
　　 The final goal became dim, like a once clear water pool, and the mud deposited under it was revealed by the stirring of prey.
The goal of the sect is to establish a stable channel, so that the legion of the blood can attack the enemy unscrupulously. At that time, the entire world will become a ruby ​​on the crown of the blood god, and all the believers will gloriously enter the realm of the blood god. To obtain eternal sublimation.