It's not too much to say that a beauty is a little bit stronger

The painter's body lay on the ground, and the remaining blood left a long trail.

The body had been dissected into a mess, with the cuts being messy and rough.

It was obvious at a glance that Zhao Yihe had no medical knowledge at all. His autopsy was as haphazard as chopping pork, and there was even a hint of destruction of the body.

Lu Yuanshi stood aside, staring at Xiao Huai coldly, silent and dangerous.

There was no emotion in his eyes, only deep disgust at the chaotic scene before him.

Xiao Huaiduo glanced at the painter a few times, then suddenly flicked his fingers and snapped them, and flames suddenly ignited from the void.

The orange-red flames were like an awakened beast, instantly devouring the cruelly treated corpse.

A huge fire was burning in the room, the flames licking the air and making crackling sounds.

The flames suddenly rose up, so bright that it was blinding, and a scorching heat wave swept out, but the flames accurately devoured the corpse without affecting any other space.

Xiao Huai slowly turned his head in the firelight, his eyes falling directly on Lu Yuanshi.

His eyes were cold and deep, revealing a power that could not be underestimated.

At that moment, Lu Yuanshi frowned slightly, and when his eyes met Xiao Huai's in the air, he seemed to be aroused by some emotions caused by this calm and relaxed aura.

From the drag marks on the ground, it can be seen that Lu Yuanshi seems unable to do anything with the corpse and cannot destroy it.

The church had not been cleaned for years, and the floor was dirty and dusty, so the dirty he was talking about was definitely not dirty in the common sense.

His anger stemmed from the painter's corpse.

Since it is something Lu Yuanshi cannot handle, then he will do it.

In the distance, Zhao Yihe, who had been monitoring, had a flash of surprise in his eyes. He couldn't help but stand up and stared at the direction of the fire in surprise.

Is there a smell of barbecue in the air?

? !

Wouldn't he?!

Qi Can squatted on the ground, playing with his fingers boredly. After seeing the fire, he curled his lips and muttered to himself, "Why is the reserve food being wasted like this?"

Zheng Wenshan stood aside, looking at the blazing flames, and shook his head helplessly, obviously feeling incredible about such a high-profile disposal of corpses.

Although Chen Wangya was injured in the leg and was still enduring the pain, he still gritted his teeth and cursed in a low voice: "This guy is sick."

How can it be destroyed just like that?

This is a bit too presumptuous.

The system prompt sounded in the silence, the tone was cold and indifferent, but with a hint of inappropriate joy.

"Congratulations, the priest has recovered and the current crisis is over."

The scarlet sign disappeared, replaced by a few lines of congratulations, shining brightly in everyone's sight.

At the same time, the flames gradually dissipated, leaving a lingering heat in the air, and the painter's body completely turned to ashes.

Lu Yuanshi stood in front of the embers, his brows relaxed, his expression revealing a hint of indifferent satisfaction, and his curiosity about Xiao Huai was even more obvious in his dark eyes.

However, Xiao Huai did not give him any chance to question or test.

His calm and distant eyes just glanced at Lu Yuanshi, as if his mission was accomplished, and he was about to leave.

The back figure illuminated by the firelight leaves a faint mystery.

Just as Xiao Huai was about to disappear from sight, Lu Yuanshi couldn't help but call him, his voice low and cold:

"What's your name?"

Xiao Huai stopped, glanced at him sideways, and then quickly scanned the surroundings.

How could he not notice that Zhao Yihe had already laid out monitoring traps around him when he raised the question?

So he took out his notebook, opened a page at random, and gently wrote his name.

Xiao Huai.

The handwriting was clear and sharp. He said nothing, just closed the notebook, raised his hand and made a hushing gesture, with a hint of playful frivolity in his eyes.

At that moment, his movements were agile and casual, and every detail was magnified countless times in an instant.

Lu Yuanshi's gaze couldn't help but be attracted to him, with an inquiring and complex emotion.

On his way out of the church, Xiao Huai quietly recalled the details he had seen on the painter's body.

He remembered that the corpse's fingers were slightly curled up and there was paint on the nails. The mottled colors were particularly eye-catching on his dead fingers, symbolizing that he had just completed a painting before his death.

The painter's expression was one of despair and relief, and in his palm he was tightly holding a broken cross with obvious bite marks on it, as if it had been bitten to pieces.

It seems as if he is still trying to grasp something at the last moment, or praying for some kind of ending.

Through the painter's slightly open lips, Xiao Huai could still see that there were indeed some sawdust residues in his mouth.

Not only that, Xiao Huai also discovered that there were remnants of book pages in the painter's intestines.

The pages were torn to pieces, as if they had been swallowed alive. They were soaked with blood, and the words were blurred and almost unrecognizable.

However, from a few faintly visible words, it was clear that the book was most likely the Bible.

Xiao Huai still remembers that he observed every tiny trace on the corpse in the shortest possible time.

During his lifetime, the painter was a devout believer. Although his clothes were worn, they were extremely solemn.

The surface of the cross was covered with scratches, as if it had been rubbed countless times before gradually breaking apart.

Xiao Huai could even imagine a person who endured in prayer, and then completely lost all faith late one night, biting and swallowing the last glimmer of hope into pieces.

Those empty eyes, the pupils frozen in a bewildered void, the lips cracked, still remaining slightly open.

It seems like it is struggling, but also like it is finally surrendering.

The limited-time mission once mentioned finding the murderer who killed the painter, and also hinted that someone killed the painter.

But did he really murder the painter?

Is one hour enough to reconstruct a murder scene? In this game, the identity setting makes everyone wear a mask of suspicion.

The arsonist is inextricably linked to the wreckage of the fire; the collector is trapped in a twisted collecting habit; the patient is in a precarious mental state; the doctor, holding a scalpel, dissected the painter's body and quietly destroyed the traces of death.

So—what about novelists?

Xiao Huai smiled lightly. Although his identity seemed harmless, wasn't he the most suspicious among the group of people?

He gathered his wandering thoughts and returned to the root of the problem.

The painter was not murdered, but...

suicide.

His death was a self-judgment.

His faith had been cut open and scattered all over the ground, and no one picked it up again.

This is his farewell to the world and the silent cry of the collapse of faith.

On the surface, the mural was unfinished, but the truth had already been engraved in the blank space.

What is missing is not incompleteness, but a gap that does not need to be filled.

Jesus is never depicted because the deity who symbolizes salvation never existed.