"Martin is a very good carpenter. With his help, the church in our town was built very strongly. He also called many companions. However, although he didn't want money, I still gave him a fee of the same market price... Well, I still remember that the money was donated by the local mayor, and his poor child was sick all year round."

...

"That rainstorm crushed many houses. Almost all the residents in the town ran to our church, but many people died. The specific number? I don't remember it, but the next day the corpses piled up as high as the house."

...

"The most thrilling thing is to see the devil. He is the most evil person I have ever met in my life. Poor Monk Karan, his heart was dug out and eaten by the devil, and I almost got killed, but fortunately... my Lord blessed."

...

"How many people have you helped? I don't remember much that there are many mobile people in the town, and we are very busy every day."

...

In a narrow and warm living room, six people sat around a gray-haired old man on the sofa, writing magic pen in their hands on the notes, while listening quietly to the old man's words. Occasionally someone would raise his hand to ask questions.

This situation lasted for a long time, and when the old man looked tired, they tactfully said goodbye and left.

...

After walking out of the house and coming to the street outside, the shortest of the six people suddenly sighed.

"The old monk helped the poor people all his life, which is worthy of respect and admiration, but... so plain, how should I write it?"

"Maybe we can consider adding a little lyricism?" Betty, who was standing on the street, bit the "pen" and gave an opinion.

"Lyricism? Forget it, I can't write that way, it's better to just narrate it straightforward..." Fire flame said, turning his head to look at the young gentleman with neat black hair and no hat on the side.

"Shar, what are you going to do?"

After his words fell, the others also turned their heads to look at the companion who had been silent. The young man shrugged: "Didn't it mean I'm going to talk about it tomorrow?"

"That may be too late. Although there are no clear regulations, the number of words must not be too small..."

The short man talked about his own concerns, and others also had a headache about it.

The day before yesterday, they were rescued by "killing" and rested for a day, and then this morning, Siegel sent to interview another old monk.

This time it was a real interview, so that these people directly faced the first problem in their work.

How to write it?

This is a plaguing question.

Although they have also been in contact with and familiar with similar articles before, it is like an exam, and even if they know the answer, they are inevitably nervous.

But this is a little bit of a concern for Charles. On the one hand, he will not be under pressure for it. On the other hand, he will not write such interview articles, but someone can write them...

The young man who was not worried about this problem at all said goodbye to a group of colleagues who sighed and returned to the manor in a carriage and ran directly to his bedroom.

The church explained that he was "missed" by nine days to go out for a mission, so no one was surprised when he came back the day before yesterday.

After returning, Charles did not rush into the shuttle door. Instead, he attended a private banquet held by his peers and then rested in the manor for a day.

After all, he is not a bad person. Although his physique is beyond ordinary people, it is enough to make people feel tired if they haven't had a good sleep for nine days and nine nights.

And now, he has completely recovered.

After closing the bedroom door, he took out a few "stolen goods" he accidentally brought out last time and put them in his pocket. With the written interview draft, Charles immediately summoned the shuttle door depicting monsters and monsters and crawled in.

...

As he stepped in, the neat and fresh bedroom quietly disappeared. In front of him, it turned into a dirty and dark narrow alley.

The walls on both sides of the alley are covered with graffiti, and a group of wild cats are surrounded by trash cans not far away. The stench of excrement is faintly lingering in the nose, all of which tell the depravity of this inconspicuous corner of New York.

Charles looked up at the sky. It was noon, and the place he was standing at this moment was where he was pulled into the strange illusion space.

It seems to be seamless, but in fact it has changed a lot.

While pondering, a curse suddenly came from the alley.

"Damn, where are my babies?!"

The scolding was full of shock, but then he let out a sharper and more furious shout.

"My money, why is my money gone? My ten million?!!"

"Ten million, which damn thief did it... No, it could not be a thief, it must be a bank error, that damn group of borers!"

...

Obviously, a certain smuggler would be a little confused about reality and falsehood, but this seems to be what the initiator hopes to happen.

Charles couldn't help but silent for less than a second, and then walked into it after a sound.

A middle-aged white man standing in front of the yellow taxi door was rubbing his messy hair hard, his expression full of astonishment and anger.

After hearing the footsteps, he raised his eyes and saw the Shire walking in, he was slightly stunned, and then walked up angrily.

"Shit bastard, say, did you steal my baby!?"

The man seemed to want to do something, but when Shire saw this, he narrowed his eyes and was about to teach him a lesson, but before the other party approached, the smuggler suddenly rolled his eyes and collapsed directly on the watery ground in front of him.

A long-faced man wearing a floral shirt and a shorts came into his eyes. At this moment, he was withdrawing the baseball bat in his hand.

"He's a little noisy."

Facing Charles' gaze, the man shrugged and threw away the weapon in his hand.

He was wearing slippers, dressed casually, with a long brown hair and face. Although the other party appeared abruptly, the real eye had already shown the person's true identity and name.

“Gabriel?”

"You know me?" The young man was stunned and then suddenly realized: "Oh, that's right, how could he break into my private world if he didn't know him?"

As he said that, his face turned stern and his tone was stiff.

"After saying that, what do you want to do? Why did you come and make trouble for me?"

Listening to the sound, Shire probably answered something wrong, so he was ready to take action.

However, in fact, Charles was the victim of this matter.

He was speechless, but Charles did not explain this, but instead said abruptly: "We are looking for God."

This short sentence quickly attracted the attention of the other party. The young man with long face narrowed his eyes and subconsciously straightened his body.

But the next moment, his shoulders shrugged again, and he curled his lips disdainfully.

"Looking for God? Are you telling jokes? God has disappeared for thousands of years. The angels have never given up looking for it, but they have not found a single hair. By the way, who are you?"

Shire did not answer his question, but said again: "We already have clues."

These words immediately made Gabriel, who looked inappropriate, seriously.
Chapter completed!