t stopped writing, and grabbed it.

His figure was staggering a little, and his feet were piled with pants that were almost torn during the battle.
In Red Rose Manor, Prince Edsac sat by the floor-to-ceiling window, his eyes extremely empty.
“Your Highness, please hurry up.” A voice sounded beside him.
Edsac’s eyes came to life. He took a breath, picked up the revolver on the table, and pressed it against his temple. There was a bullet in it that could annihilate the spirit body.
He turned back and looked wistfully at the golf course outside and the horses taking a walk.
boom
He pulled the trigger.
In the hall where the stone pillars were broken, a group of night watchers wearing black windbreakers and silk hats appeared around the remains of the altar. The leader was none other than Saint Anthony Stevenson, the Archbishop of Backlund Parish of the Church of the Night Goddess.
“It was destroyed,” he whispered, without stopping, he went directly to the stone door leading to the inside.
Rich darkness emerged, and the stone door opened silently. Saint Anthony led some of the Nighthawks inside and went deeper.
Along the way, they didn’t find a guard or anything of value, and it seemed as if the place had been swept clean.
Finally, they arrived at the deepest room, but there was still nothing there except the walls and stone pillars. The faint blue light door when Klein came out had long since disappeared.
The lanterns in the hands of several nighthawks suddenly lost their light, and darkness enveloped the room.
When everything returned to normal, they found that the surrounding walls had melted away at some point, but there were no secret doors or tunnels behind them. They were either thick earth and stones, or the corridor they came from.
Saint Anthony was silent for more than ten seconds before speaking:
“Try divination.
“Search nearby.”
A sneeze
Klein walked through the pathless cliffs and woods, and sadly discovered that he seemed to be really sick.
The residual effects of Mr. A’s extraordinary ability and his drenched state in winter gave him a shameful cold.
However, he did not dare to stop and collect dead branches, light fires, bake clothes, and dry banknotes, because he was afraid of being found by the extraordinary people of the church.
Even though he has obtained a semi-official status through the endorsement of Stanton Essinger from the “Heart of Machinery”, but two highest-level cases involving the awakening of the “Original Witch” and the arrival of the “True Creator”, he will definitely Accept rigorous investigation, for example, take turns to taste black tea at the “Mechanical Heart”, the Punisher, and the Nighthawk, and retell the entire process actively or passively.
“The extremely high-ranking man just now may have been in a hurry to deal with Ins Zangwill and 008, and had no time to pay attention to friendly little characters like me, but I can’t be careless because of this. I still have to run.
“Haha, maybe in the official announcement, Sherlock Moriarty died from a meteorite