Chapitre 238: Chapter 238: Wishing for It
The Ascension Cathedral of the Holy Church, as its name suggests, is precisely where Bishop Richard resides.
Just like the Lutheran Cathedral in Romania back then.
If one were to ask where the strongest force of the Church in Bangkok or Thailand is, the answer would also be the Ascension Cathedral of the Holy Church.
When Monk Lucien brought him near the Ascension Cathedral.
York found that there were no Thai civilians around, only clergy members coming and going.
"Due to what happened today, this place has been temporarily sealed off," Monk Lucien whispered after noticing the priest observing from the car's rearview mirror.
"Not just us, the entire Bangkok is on high alert, fearing another major incident."
His voice was soft, but the tone carried a hint of desolation.
Hearing this, York knew that the Level VII supernatural event must have resulted in a significant number of deaths. He looked at the silent Monk Lucien and nodded quietly.
After a strict check, York walked through the lavishly decorated corridors and finally arrived at a room with an isolation window.
Through the isolation window, he could see the situation inside the room.
This was the room where Saxton and Emilia were.
Glancing at Saxton, who looked like a mummy wrapped up and still in a coma, York didn't know how to break the news to Ms. Camille.
"A silver lining." A doctor in a white coat standing to the left seemed somewhat emotional.
"That young man's rib was just a fraction away from piercing his heart. Logically, the organs inside must have sustained the expected damage, an inevitable outcome.
However, for some reason, his internal organs seemed to be protected by something. Most of the shattered bones missed the vital parts…"
Hearing this, York looked towards Emilia's neighboring bed.
It was only now that he finally saw Emilia herself.
Like Saxton, her face was bruised and swollen, and she was in a coma, but from her face, York saw a shadow of a woman who had a brief encounter with fate.
"This is?" York's heart stirred.
Seemingly sensing the priest's gaze next to him, the doctor responsibly explained.
"The one with the lightest injuries is this young lady…"
As these words echoed in his ears, York looked to the right.
A priest in a robe appeared in his field of view.
His face was unusually tired, the whole person like a withered flower.
In his memory, this person seemed to be a priest that Bishop Richard always had by his side, Father Daniel, whom he had spoken to over the phone.
Even though he was extremely weary, he approached with steady steps.
The doctor wisely closed his mouth at this moment.
"Father York, the bishop asks for you," Father Daniel spoke, his voice aging a decade despite his prime.
Seeing such severe exhaustion, York nodded, already imagining Bishop Richard's appearance.
If this priest was this drained, then the bishop's exhaustion must be no less.
Following Father Daniel step by step, they arrived at a spacious hall.
A main door appeared in front.
This was a small indoor chapel.
As Father Daniel opened the door, York saw several people already standing in the moderately sized chapel.
Bypassing Father Matty, who nodded in greeting on the outskirts, York responded in kind, his gaze resting on the elderly man seated at the far end.
At this glance, the hair that was mixed with black in his memory had now turned completely white.
In a daze, York recalled the bishop who once moved briskly through headquarters, now staring at him with an emotionless gaze.
Time is kind, yet it spares no one.
York sighed in his heart, walked slowly over, and eventually sat on the bench adjacent to the elderly man.
Now, York could clearly see the old man's face.
At just over seventy, his complexion resembled that of someone in their eighties or nineties, the marks of time etched all over, feeling the extreme weakness hidden within this aging body.
The old man was staring at the unchanging image of Jesus in front of him, his unblinking eyes suddenly said, "York, you've come?"
York was taken aback, faintly sensing something, and took a deep breath.
"I've come, Bishop Richard."
A flicker of emotion appeared on Bishop Richard's face, as if lost in thought, he turned to look at the source of the sound.
"Indeed, I still find your kind somewhat detestable."
These words caused a stir among every priest in the chapel, only York's eyes flickered slightly.
The next moment, an old and hoarse voice spoke again: "The center of the incident is in the area overseen by Matty. If you need to understand something, ask him, and he will assist you, providing everything you need."
Listening, York saw a hint of hesitation on the old man's face, who then spoke in an even softer voice.
"The strength of this Satanic cult is not weak; they know many dark arts, be caref..."
His voice was so low that only York could hear clearly.
The old man seemed to realize something was off, abruptly stopped speaking, and became increasingly cold.
York's face softened: "Bishop Richard, I'll be careful. Please rest well."
Saying this, ignoring Bishop Richard's unnatural expression, York turned to look at the image of Jesus in front of him, made the sign of the cross over his chest, then stood up, passed by the slightly bowing Father Daniel, and walked towards the main door.
And walking by Father Matty's side, York didn't stop, leaving behind only one sentence.
"Father Matty, let's go."
Father Matty bowed slightly to the old man inside and then followed York's steps.
The two paralleled each other, weaving through the clergy members who stopped to salute them on the corridors.
Father Matty finally couldn't help but speak: "Why are you silent?"
He and York were old acquaintances, saved by York in a major supernatural event when both were novice priests.
"What should I say?" York looked at the exhausted Father Matty: "But you, having expended so much, are you still okay? Can you hold on?"
Father Matty's face twitched: "Whether I'm okay or not is not your concern. I can still hold on. Don't you want to know the current situation with the family of seven? There have been some changes."
York narrowed his eyes: "Tell me?"
Father Matty sighed: "The child's seventh birthday is actually tomorrow, which means tomorrow at midnight is when they plan to take the child."
Saying this, Father Matty looked at the expressionless York, paused, and then continued.
"Now, with only five hours left until midnight, even if we call for reinforcements from other countries, it's already too late. So..."
However, before he could finish, the previously expressionless priest suddenly smiled and interrupted him.
"Wishing for it, I alone am enough."
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