I am a necromancer, and I absolutely love America.

Chapter 115 The Saintess! (7K Chapter! Requesting Monthly Tickets and Subscriptions)

The flower-offering ceremony begins.

Everyone stood up, and the seats creaked and groaned.

The distinguished guests walked onto the stage in order of their status and the closeness of their relationship, and presented white flowers to the 39 photo frames.

The families of the victims stood by to express their gratitude.

Debbie joined Archbishop Sawyer in laying flowers.

Byron Perry began, "Child, tell me. Is it that you cannot, or that you will not?"

The victims' families and those laying flowers all looked at Debbie.

Debbie took a deep breath. After going through so many things, she had learned how to handle this kind of situation.

All she had to do was look directly at the other person with a determined gaze and the same fierce determination she would show when confronting those bitches.

The rest is up to Richard and Sawyer.

She glanced quickly at Richard.

help me!

help me!

help me!

Richard didn't move an inch.

The minor conflict here did not escalate, the flower offerings continued, and the family members moved slowly in line.

At that moment, two men suddenly stepped out from the line of families presenting flowers and walked straight toward Debbie.

One of them reached into his coat, the fabric of his jacket was suddenly ripped open, and he pulled out a gun!

The gun barrel gleamed coldly in the candlelight!

The scene instantly erupted in chaos.

A group of important figures hurriedly crawled under the table.

WTF!

"How did he manage to bring a gun in here!"

"He wanted to assassinate the saintess!"

"Damn it! It's a shotgun!"

Screams erupted simultaneously from different directions, like ripples created by a pebble thrown into water.

The heads of the FBI, police, and campus police at the scene felt their scalps tingle.

This place is full of senators, billionaires, congressmen, and governors; the death of any one of them would be a huge deal.

How did he manage to bring the gun in?! The security chief felt his position and pension slipping away, and his fingers gripping the walkie-talkie trembled.

This is definitely aimed at me!

"Stop him!"

"Stop! Don't move!"

"Put down the gun! Put down that gun! What are you doing?"

A group of police officers yelled at him, their voices cracking, but they dared not do anything.

No one dared to take out a gun; if they accidentally injured one, they would be dead.

A large number of important figures were prostrate on the ground below the stage.

The dull thuds of tables and chairs collapsing echoed throughout the room.

The men and women retreated in panic; some twisted their high heels in the cracks in the stones, while others tripped over chair legs.

The once dignified and elegant figures turned pale, and one senator's lips trembled uncontrollably.

The police were completely unable to control the situation; there were too many people at the scene, and no one dared to fire a shot.

Stray bullets have no eyes; they're a disaster to anyone who gets hit.

Robert was completely numb.

He could feel the veins in his temples throbbing.

Oh no! I've made a huge mess of things!

But since things had come to this, he had no choice but to grit his teeth and continue.

Mark shouted excitedly, "Quick! We don't have much time left! We're going to be famous!"

Yes! The number of fans will definitely increase dramatically! Rob quickly raised his hand, his arm stiff and hurried.

The important figures present immediately lay down.

Rob forced himself to continue, his voice slightly weak through the microphone: "I'm Rob, and he's Mark. We're YouTubers, Rob and Mark!"

"Mark and Rob!" Mark instinctively followed.

The people present:

"Fk!" Mark realized he'd made a fool of himself as soon as he finished speaking.

Rob quickly added, "We posted a video online proving the shooting miracle was fake; it only required a slight mechanical malfunction..."

"7

Debbie was dumbfounded.

What the hell are you guys doing?!

The live stream was transmitted to every corner of the United States via cameras.

The reporters' eyes lit up with excitement, and their shoulders, carrying the cameras, trembled slightly.

Big news has indeed arrived!

Every time Debbie is involved, there's big news!

That's amazing, it's a news-making machine!

Viewers watching the live stream were stunned; the barrage of comments completely obscured the screen.

"Holy crap! How did he manage to get a gun in there?"

Someone recognized the two men: "These two guys are going to be arrested, and locked up for at least three months."

39

"Why only three months?"

"Because he was carrying rubber bullets, which couldn't kill anyone."

"WTF? Rubber bullets? Is he out of his mind?"

"I thought it was going to cause trouble, but it turned out to be a joke!"

"How did he manage to smuggle the gun in? Is security that bad?"

"Who knows? Anyway, as long as I'm not shot dead on the spot, it'll be fine. Whether it goes to court or I get arrested, it'll all be great entertainment!"

"Today's internet celebrities are really going all out!"

Rob was still there, brandishing his gun.

Mark even managed to squeeze in a quick gesture, subtly pointing his finger towards the camera: "We are Mark and Rob, viewers of the live stream, we've kept our promise!"

"Robert and Mark," Robert unconsciously corrected himself.

After saying that, he felt like an idiot, and his lips twitched.

What time is it? Why are you still arguing about this?!

Rob and Mark's fans were laughing hysterically in the live stream.

"OMG! They really pulled off something amazing!"

"That's so cool!"

If those two idiots turned on their phones, they would see their follower count skyrocketing, with the numbers in the upper right corner of the screen spinning like a casino counter.

When they're happy, someone else is unhappy.

The faces of everyone in the security department were as dark as if their mothers had died, and all promotions and raises seemed to be slipping away from them.

Only a handful of people, including Debbie, Sawyer, and Byron, remained standing on the field, staring at the gleaming metal barrels of the guns and trying to calm themselves down.

Mark could actually laugh: "Debbie, I don't believe in God. Can you tell?"

"What the hell am I looking at!" Debbie felt sweat trickling down her palms.

People of other religions in the audience lay on the ground, chuckling.

The Catholic Church was furious; one old priest's face turned a deep shade of liver.

Sawyer said coldly, his voice sounding like it was being squeezed out from between his teeth: "This is not a place for you to run wild."

Mark remained unfazed, his chin slightly raised: "Can't the Holy Maiden speak for herself? Does she need you to speak for her? Do you think you're more powerful than the Holy Maiden?"

Sawyer gritted his teeth, and the veins on his temples throbbed.

Robert stepped forward, and no one stopped him. Sawyer was also a little scared and wanted to shrink back.

Everyone was stunned by the gun in his hand and didn't know what to do.

A thick, tense atmosphere hung in the air.

Rob raised his gun and aimed it at Debbie.

There was a gasp of surprise from the crowd.

Debbie stood frozen in place.

The security guards started touching their guns.

Richard remained inactive.

Neither of them harbored any desire for hatred from beginning to end; their sole motivation was "fame"...

He couldn't help but admire the two men's talent for causing trouble.

But this is a good opportunity!

Richard surveyed his surroundings, looking for an opportunity.

"It's a fake gun! It's filled with rubber bullets!" Rob suddenly shouted.

The entire audience was stunned for a moment.

No one knows whether what he said is true or false.

Rob knew that if he didn't shoot soon, it would be too late.

His palms were sweaty, and the gun handle was slippery.

He quickly turned the gun around and pulled the trigger at the open space below the stage, but it wouldn't fire; the bolt made a hollow click.

He fired another shot into the sky, and with a bang, a rubber bullet was fired.

Everyone covered their heads in terror, raising and lowering their arms in unison.

"They're rubber bullets! Really rubber bullets!"

The policemen scrambled to their feet menacingly, their hands on their holsters.

Once they confirmed that the gun was no longer lethal, they rushed forward from backstage, their boots stomping heavily on the floor.

Mark lay down on the ground.

Rob fired into the sky again, then at Mark on the ground, but the shot jammed.

Mark shouted excitedly, "Look! I'm a saint too!"

He opened his coat, revealing a white dress underneath!

Too hard!

Now everyone understood; these two were actually demonstrating in public how to create a "miracle."

When someone finally exhaled the breath they had been holding in, it was a hoarse sound.

The people from the other three religions couldn't help but laugh, and even joined in with their own snickers.

Sawyer's face turned ashen.

All his carefully prepared plans were completely ruined by those two clowns!

The rule of public opinion dissemination: Nobody cares about the facts, everyone only cares about sensationalism.

In the future, whenever someone mentions the Princeton shooting miracle or Saint Debbie, they will think of these two clowns, one dressed as a woman lying on the ground!

FXXK!

It's all over!

Even without evidence, Sawyer knew it must have been that bastard Foster who did it!

The FBI and police rushed over aggressively and forcefully pinned Rob to the ground.

At the last moment, Rob actually threw the gun to Mark, and the gun flipped once in mid-air.

Mark caught the gun, his palm stinging from the slap of the grip, and fired again into the sky, successfully setting it on fire.

Then he pointed the gun diagonally downwards: "I am a saint too!"

He laughed exaggeratedly at Debbie, his smile wide and exaggerated.

Some people burst out laughing; they had seen the two of them in the video and knew he was making a joke.

"Now!" Richard simply looked at him quietly, his gaze unwavering.

An invisible hand of magic reached out.

Everyone was laughing.

Sawyer thought the whole thing was terrible; Debbie's reputation had plummeted.

Debbie couldn't take it anymore: "Stop hitting him, you might hurt someone..."

""

"Absolutely not!" Mark chuckled as he pulled the trigger.

And then, *snap*...

Did you press it?

Why did I press it?!

Mark's eyes widened, and his smile froze on his face.

boom!

The rubber bullet was fired with a bang.

The police rushed over and pinned him to the ground.

"Ah!" A scream rang out.

In the crowd, Milo collapsed to the ground, covering his eyes, blood seeping from between his fingers.

"My eyes! Help me! I can't see!"

The rubber bullet unexpectedly hit Milo, who was not far away!

Everyone present was stunned, as if a pause button had been pressed.

It was a sawed-off shotgun.

It has no aiming at all; the bullets fly wildly.

It actually hit the eye of the guy who was just questioning Debbie!

"Ah—my eyes! Help me! Take me to the hospital!"

Milo rolled on the ground screaming in pain, his body curled up in a ball, his heels kicking wildly at the stone floor.

Mark was completely dumbfounded. His mouth was open, but no sound came out.

Enraged, the police officers slammed him to the ground, pressing their elbows down on the back of his neck.

It was difficult to use force under the cameras, but when he was pinned to the ground and surrounded by a crowd, a few people still secretly gave him a few hard blows, kneeing him in the lower back. Mark couldn't even scream; he could only let out a muffled groan, his face turning red.

"Kid, you're suspected of assault, you're finished!" a policeman said angrily.

They knew they were in deep trouble. How could someone have managed to bring weapons into such an important place and even injure people!

If officials are going to suffer, they won't be able to escape it either.

This bastard is the one who caused all this trouble. He'll make you pay tonight!

Mark didn't even care about the pain in his body.

He was terrified.

Rubber bullets!

It was just a rubber bullet, but it blinded that kid!

Causing trouble in public is one thing, but injuring someone is another.

Mark's mind went blank.

What a coincidence!

The scene was deathly silent.

Even the sobbing of the deceased's family members stopped.

Someone muttered to themselves, "Debbie just said the gun might hit someone," so how could a gun that can't be fired with the muzzle pointed downwards have actually fired?

"Her voice hadn't even faded from the air before the bullets caught up!"

"The gun was pointing downwards just now, I saw it very clearly," someone said in a low voice, their voice weak.

Why did it fire?

"Who knows?"

Everyone stared at Debbie in disbelief, their gazes fixed on her.

It's as if his words became law!

Debbie was also a little confused, wondering if she had done something she didn't understand herself.

Someone exaggeratedly covered their head, ran their fingers through their hair, making a mess of it: "No way! Is she really a saint?"

Lisa covered her mouth in shock, her fingers gripping Leon's arm tightly, her nails digging into his biceps through his shirt.

Lyon was also stunned, his mouth slightly agape.

"What a coincidence!"

Not far away, Brian sneered, a disdainful smile playing on his lips.

"You think you'll get away with offending our lord?"

By now, he had finally figured out Richard's habits.

Richard never takes action openly, and whenever he does, he tries to shift the blame onto others so he can distance himself from the situation.

Moreover, every time he takes action, his group always benefits.

This is indeed Richard's idea: why should I take action if I or my people can't benefit from it?

Should I take the risk and let others benefit?

Sawyer's mouth dropped open, his mind completely blank.

Could Debbie really be... a saint?

This time, he witnessed Debbie's "performance" in person.

He glanced furtively at the sky, his forehead beaded with sweat, which trickled down his temples.

Thinking back on all the wrong things I had done in the past, I felt a deep sense of despair.

So that being in the heavens really does exist...

The viewers watching the live stream were stunned. The chat suddenly went silent for a second, then exploded at twice the speed.

"Fuck! This is really weird!"

"Is it a coincidence? If it is, why only target that guy when so many others aren't being attacked?"

"That choir guy just questioned Debbie... oh no, Her Highness."

"Is it another prop?"

"How could it be a prop! Rob and Mark went there to expose Debbie; they even made a video! They released it yesterday!"

"No way, could it really be true?"

Washington.

Whoosh!

Foster smashed the crystal wine glass to pieces, the shards bouncing and scattering across the table. A shard cut his finger, drawing blood, but he didn't even look at it.

"I don't believe it! How can it be such a coincidence? It's impossible! Why is it always such a coincidence!"

This can't be a show.

Milo, Rob, and Mark—both groups were sent out by themselves.

He couldn't help but shiver.

Could that guy in heaven really exist? I've done so many blasphemous things; I'm going to hell.

He thought of the church's descriptions of hell and began to tremble uncontrollably.

Vatican.

The Pope looked at the attendant beside him with a puzzled expression, his white eyebrows furrowing slightly.

"Is this situation also a coincidence?"

The attendant whispered, leaning forward slightly, "Every saintess has something unexpected about her."

The Pope's lips curved slightly, and the fine wrinkles around his eyes smoothed out: "God has indeed not abandoned us."

He clasped his hands together, prayed devoutly for a while, and then looked up: "I remember the New York Grand Diocese sent an application for canonization."

"Yes." The attendant silently placed the application before the Pope.

The traditional parchment made a soft rustling sound on the table.

The Pope saw the name "Debbie Dixon" and then immediately signed his own name, the sound of the pen gliding across the paper delicate and decisive.

"Let's do it this way."

The attendant asked in surprise, "Isn't it necessary to summon the cardinals for a consultation?"

The Pope shook his head: "Sometimes, we need to act quickly."

Even if Debbie's success was just due to good luck, these events are enough for the church to make a big fuss about.

Luck is also a kind of strength.

The Catholic faith in the United States has dropped to 15 percent, which is very dangerous.

Debbie is a good opportunity.

In America, God needs a stronger shepherd!

At the scene, some people began to clasp their hands in prayer.

Richard saw the power of faith slowly appear, growing stronger and stronger, with golden specks of light densely packed in the air like mist.

A group of devout Catholics even knelt down, their knees thumping unevenly on the stone floor, exclaiming with ecstatic joy, "Lord!"

"May your will be on earth as it is in heaven!"

Father Calvin stared blankly at the scene before him.

Once again!

Once again!

Where Richard was, another miracle occurred!

What? Debbie is a saint? Richard is! Richard is protecting that lucky girl!

"So he was the one who was chosen!"

Calvin knelt down with the other believers and clasped his hands in prayer, but the object of his prayer was Richard.

My God, your choice is truly unexpected.

You actually chose a person of Asian descent!

Richard was surprised to discover that the flame of piety and worship atop Calvin's head had burned to an unimaginable degree—a piety and worship.

The power of faith was gushing out of him continuously, and golden light rose from his chest like steam.

Even if you met the god himself, it wouldn't be any different.

Byron Perry looked grim and trembled all over.

His fingers twitched spasmodically on his knee.

He couldn't believe what was happening in front of him.

If it's a coincidence, it's too much of a coincidence.

From the starling miracle to the gun mishap, and then to the fact that Rob and Mark could never possibly be Debbie's stooges.

If Debbie is a saint... Byron Perry's eyes were bloodshot, with blood vessels running through the whites of his eyes.

He didn't understand why God would abandon his family.

I was already very devout!

I donate tens of millions of dollars to the church every year!

Isn't that enough?!

I do not believe!

This is a coincidence!

Must be a coincidence!

His wife trembled even more violently, her shoulders shaking violently, and she burst into tears.

"Why! Why!"

Bingye spoke in a voice only Debbie could hear:

Debbie stepped forward.

She knelt down before the trembling mother, gently taking her hand in hers: "Your son must have been a very good person. The fact that so many people remember him today is proof of that!"

The scene was completely silent.

The whole country was watching this scene.

The flash went off.

Richard's depleted magic was fully restored in the ocean of faith.

"Go and comfort them. Tell them their son is a good man."

In a flash of inspiration, he decisively activated the [Desire Control] skill, instantly igniting Calvin's piety and worship.

Then, the infection broke out!

Invisible ripples swept over everyone, and a warm weight filled the air.

In an instant, everyone present felt an indescribable sense of peace and sacredness.

Non-believers began to indulge, followers of other religions felt guilty, and Catholics visibly relaxed.

The scene was peaceful and devout; everyone looked at Debbie as if they were seeing a true god.

The air was filled with an endless, undetermined faith, and the speed at which magic power was replenished was simply too fast.

The magic power I just used has been fully restored.

Richard decided that if he was going to put on an act, he might as well go all the way!

The Defeat of Magic!

He used his magical power to directly pull off the purple ceremonial cloak from the statue of the Virgin Mary...

Under the watchful eyes of everyone, in a completely still room, a soft purple scarf silently slid off the statue, unfurling in the air like a deep purple petal lifted by the wind.

It floated down and gently landed on Debbie's shoulder.

Everyone present was stunned.

"OH MY GODNESS!"

""

"This is the legacy of the Virgin Mary!"

"This is the approval of the Virgin Mary!"

"6

"She is the saint!"

In an instant, boundless faith emanated from everyone.

Golden points of light rose from each chest, converging into a mist of light beneath the dome.

"God, redeem us!"

"Your Highness!"

Lisa knelt down devoutly.

Even Lyon, who never really believed in God, was quite fond of these trousers.

"This is too much—" He was at a loss for words.

He didn't say it, but he never believed in God. However, the scene before him was repeatedly slapping him in the face.

Byron-Pellia stared at the shawl on Debbie's shoulder, his body trembling violently.

It was the Virgin Mary who chose her, and it was God who abandoned my son!

Why?!

The scene erupted in uproar.

Exclamations, cries, and prayers mingled together.

The lingering notes of the organ still echoed between the walls.

Catherine simply watched the scene quietly.

She remained calm throughout, even when Debbie was being criticized.

She believed that with Richard by her side, Debbie would never be under any real threat.

How do you false believers know the power of the true God's protection?

.

snort!

Brian also pretended to kneel down and pray along with the others, but in reality, he was praying to his master.

This scene was broadcast live and instantly spread throughout the United States and even the world, its influence spreading rapidly.

Pfft! Alex spat out a mouthful of cola.

"Holy crap! What a coincidence!"

He certainly knew Debbie, the daughter of Richard's host family, who was rumored to be a saint.

As a student of Dongda University, he didn't believe a single word.

It was just a coincidence.

Alex could tell that Richard and Debbie had a special relationship; just a few days ago, they had gone to deliver food to children from poor families together.

He thought of the beautiful Helen again, and his lips twitched slightly.

He and Richard would never believe it if you said Helen had no relationship with Richard.

Good heavens, you dare to cuckold the saintess!

"But isn't this a bit too much?" Alex looked at the purple scarf on Debbie's shoulder with a puzzled expression.

Is it really such a coincidence?

Fabian stared blankly at the scene before him, unable to recover for a long time.

The handkerchief floated down from the statue of the Virgin Mary and landed on Debbie's shoulder.

Fabian began to calculate in his mind as a conditioned reflex.

What is the probability that the scarf, made of lightweight silk, would fall freely from the shoulder of a three-meter-high statue, with an offset angle not exceeding fifteen degrees, and land at point 1 covering the shoulder area of ​​a standing human body?

Absolutely no more than one in ten thousand!

In any case, it has never happened in history.

He pressed his knuckles against his temples and massaged them in a circular motion.

A shotgun shell randomly hit someone in the eye, and it happened to be Milo, the same Milo who had just been accusing Debbie with the most vicious words!

What are the chances of that?

One in ten thousand?

His finger tapped twice on the table, a gesture he made while explaining the mechanical malfunction to Mark.

In addition, that gun was modified; it shouldn't be able to fire when the muzzle is lowered.

But it was fired anyway.

What are the odds?

One in a thousand isn't too much, is it?

He multiplied those three numbers in his mind, and the result was one in a trillion.

One in a trillion! Fabian scratched his head in frustration; he was a staunch rationalist.

He believes in the power of numbers.

When the probability is as low as one in a hundred billion, such a situation should not be seen in his lifetime.

Humanity has never seen such a dense concentration of coincidences at a gathering of this scale.

Why did I have to run into this?

Fabian had even more in mind.

The memorial service is being broadcast live across the United States and around the world.

The Virgin Mary's purple veil fell on Debbie's shoulders, as if it were a passing down of tradition, as if it had been deliberately chosen to be scooped up at a particular moment.

In front of a national audience, in front of the portraits of the 39 victims, and with all the cameras pointed at Debbie's pants.

This was not a rehearsal, there was no second take, and the live broadcast was not delayed.

He stared at the real-time viewership number in the bottom right corner of the screen; the number was still rising and had already surpassed 800 million!

At least 800 million people witnessed the landing of a scarf in the same second!

"Fk!" Fabian scratched his scalp hard.

Also, the Princeton Christmas shooting), he began to revisit this level.

Clearly, Cole Barnes wouldn't cooperate with Debbie in putting on a killing spree.

The price was too high; Cole Barnes' life is ruined.

All he had left was a six-square-meter cell, where he was confined for twenty-three hours a day, and even when he was allowed to go out for fresh air, he had to wear handcuffs.

No one would spend their entire life in prison to participate in someone else's show.

What kind of compensation did you give him?

What if Cole-Barnes's scramble was also a coincidence?

According to that expert, there is a 1 in 2300 chance of a malfunction.

However, shotguns have more than a dozen malfunction modes, and jamming is just one of them.

A worn-out feed ramp, a broken ejection hook, and a malfunctioning hammer do not necessarily mean the machine is jammed.

At least he couldn't find any similar cases online.

He really did search for it.

To write that article, he scoured gun forums, ballistic analysis reports, and even the military's weapon malfunction database.

No one has found such a coincidental jamming.

So, is it too much to say that the probability is one in a million?

So many accidents happening to the same girl in such a short period of time, what is one in a million multiplied by one in a hundred billion?

He read the number aloud in his mind.

One in a billion!

Fabian felt that he would rather believe that his dog would suddenly be able to talk tomorrow than believe this was the case!

He has an eight-year-old golden retriever that does nothing but tap the floor with its tail except to eat and sleep.

If that dog says "Good morning Fabian" tomorrow morning, he will immediately take it for a full physical examination, then contact animal behaviorists, and then write a long article analyzing the possibility of convergent evolution between canine vocal cord structure and human language.

He would never kneel, but today, looking at the purple scarf on the screen, his knees suddenly felt weak.

He decided to meet the girl named Debbie.

Despite his efforts to prove various false miracles, he is not actually an atheist.

His great interest stemmed from his belief in God, but not the gods that people worship today.

Or perhaps, the true God is being hidden by something, and he simply wants to find it.

Otherwise, why is Earth in this state? From the beginning of human evolution to where we are today, it seems like everything has been preordained.

The moon is perfectly positioned, the sun is perfectly positioned, and the orbit is perfectly positioned.

Everything was just right.

Either this universe is a laboratory, or he is just a mortal who hasn't found God.

He is a rational believer, but he just hasn't found that rational God.

"I must go see her," Fabian told himself.

>