Chapter 215:

The whole wood moves in a puzzling complex movement, and the air around the priest is filled with dusty paths, so complicatedly intertwined that where they form knots, the flow of light fragments continues to flow through. Shock waves spread from all directions, and their force pushed the bright dust away from the epicenter. In the process, an ever-expanding, continuously concentrated matter was formed.
"Go in," the priest said to Felixon. Felixson has retreated into the soft bushes, a safe place to watch the incident.
He trusted his master and immediately followed the instructions and moved out of the bushes. He was still crouching, crossing the flame-painted wall. Soon, but not pleasant. The hair on his head and body was scalded immediately. The clothes he made for poor etiquette were burned to ashes in a second, and fire was added to clean his groin. He thought, now he looks like a child, his masculinity has been reduced to a small piece, the ball is close to the body. But he is still safe in the expanding realm and close to his master.
Then, the priest quickly drew something in the air, leaving some black characters in front of him. "I am releasing my shackles on your memory."
"Is... training?"
"Of course. Without them, you would have been crazy. But I need your help. There. A small part of what you know has been restored. Use it carefully, and in my service, will gradually provide you with more returns ."
Several narrow doors suddenly opened in Felixon's mind. Each door was a book, and the content of the book was his strength. The history that knowledge brings to him is only a small part, and he is suddenly tortured by the state: a weird humiliation. As long as there is a chance, he will hide himself. But now, he put aside the question of metaphor and literal nakedness, and turned his attention to the master.
He said: "The most welcome gift, Master." He found that the power to form coherent sentences had also been restored. Whether it was intentional or an unexpected side effect of the owner's work, Felixon didn't know, but he didn't know enough to question it.
"Remember," the priest said.
"Of course. Your generosity-"
"It's not a gift, Felixon. Master. Remember my name. Forget it, I will wipe you off. You don't even remember to squat down when you squat."
"Yes Master."
When he trembled, his mind was filled with open and closed doors, roaring winds from the compass wind that he couldn't even speak, in which words and phrases scattered randomly from the pages of the book in memory.
The place where he stepped into the blazing bush became brighter and brighter. It was so bright that Felixson had to open his eyes and cover his face with his right hand. He studied what he could see at this oblique angle. The priest from was not smiling now. Felixon is quite sure of this. There are indeed signs that even priests are surprised by the scale of this eruption.
"Look," he said, "every detail." Then, his most comforting sentence was: "The future will be known."
Since the Hell Priest is not only a naked short man of a man, but also has witnessed part of his master's path to deification, would it be better to convince the Hell Priest to treat him? Not just any part. If he correctly judges the nature and ambition of the pastor, that is the beginning he has witnessed, the ancient purification, the piercing of flesh, and the blooming of sparks. This spark will bloom, which will change and shape history forever.
Felixon's speculation stopped there. The priest was walking towards the ignited air, while Felixson walked step by step. The brightness spread around them, but there was no energy left to burst as they progressed.
The effect on Felixon was different from his first shot of very pure cocaine-the heart speeded up, the skin suddenly became hot, and he felt more alert. The sudden confidence was also there, which made Felixson want to speed up the pace, eager to see what or who lies on the other side of this bright passage.
Felixon now saw a small part of another place: especially at night, a dark street, and some characters retreated from where he and his master appeared. Felixon was disappointed. This is not what he expected, not at all.
They were almost finished now: two more steps, the Hell priest was standing on the asphalt-the other two, Felixon joined him. Felixon wore the mask of a magician to kill time here, and memories filled him. However, it was not the streetscape and dark houses that stung Felixson's memory the deepest. That is the smell of city air and sidewalks. When he thinks of a life full of charm, he is overwhelmed by a strong sense of loss-love, magic, friends, everything, even everyone is dead.
If he can't control himself quickly, then tears will blind him, and in all cases this extroverted weakness will be his end. He knew that his punishment would be severe compared with the countless indescribable acts of slaughter already in the master's order book.
After the violent impact of the fire and unpleasant strange memories, the scenes he and his master entered are difficult to achieve basic feelings: the dull streets, the dull houses, the dull sky and some visible characters are just Because they were illuminated by the bright light that he and his master rushed from the burning door.
A young woman first caught his attention, and her cuteness was welcomed by the countless kinds of ugliness where he had just left. But there was no welcome on her face. Of course, her eyes were on him, and although she was looking at him, her lips moved, even though he could not hear what she was talking about.
"Bad Lee!" the Hell priest shouted. Although his voice was never loud, it was easy to hear.
Felixon turned around, startled by the master's words. They came back to earth for detectives. They have returned and completed the work they started in New Orleans.
Felixon had nothing when he was born, he looked for the man summoned by his master in the musk. There was a short man brandishing a machete and a confused expression. Next to him was a tall guy with a broken nose. He seemed to be protecting a blind black woman. Like a young woman, her expression showed no sign of welcome. There is no doubt that there is a curse on her lips.
Then, walking from a dark person to their left, closer to the door than anyone else, there was a person walking, his face showing traces of life. Felixon had only a moment to scan the scars of men, because men's eyes needed his attention, and they would not be rejected. He seemed to watch Hell Priest and Felixon at the same time.
"No one has touched your box," Li Hao said. "You shouldn't be here."
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