I am a necromancer, and I absolutely love America.

Chapter 148, Level 3 [Soul and Desire] (7K long chapter, please vote and subscribe)

"Hi!" Richard said as he pushed the door open and came in.

Han Qing was hiding behind the desk, eating a cream puff like a hamster, her cheeks bulging, and her face showing a confused expression like a cat stealing a bite.

Richard's hand froze in mid-air as he looked at her in confusion.

She was stunned.

The two looked at each other in bewilderment.

Suddenly, she sprang up from her workstation as if she'd been electrocuted. She frantically covered her mouth while forcing down the entire cream puff, choking so hard her eyes rolled back: "Ugh..."

'

Richard's lips twitched: "Um... I just came in to say hello..."

'

After all, they were both students of Tokyo University and Christina's students. Their last meeting had been fairly amicable, and Lee felt that it was necessary to maintain a certain level of social interaction.

But...

You're not fat, so why are you ashamed of eating?

Richard had absolutely no idea why Han Qing would steal food.

Han Qing felt a sudden surge of inexplicable shame and panic rush to her head. She subconsciously tried to swallow the cream puff in her mouth, but in her nervousness, the soft cream puff crumbs mixed with thick cream choked her and went into her trachea.

"Cough! Cough cough!!"

A violent feeling of suffocation instantly gripped her throat. She abruptly covered her mouth, bent over, and coughed violently, tears streaming down her face uncontrollably. Her originally pale and thin face instantly turned bright red.

She gripped the edge of the bench tightly with one hand, while trying to pat her chest haphazardly with the other. The remaining half of the uneaten cream puff, along with its paper wrapper, slipped and fell to the ground with a thud.

Richard was startled and quickly stepped forward to help, patting his back rapidly.

boom!

boom!

boom!

Her back was very thin, almost all bone, and it was a bit rough to the touch.

Han Qing coughed and coughed until he couldn't cough anymore. He grabbed his throat and gasped for breath.

Richard immediately said, "Bend down! Bow your head!"

In a panic, Han Qing tried to bend down.

Richard quickly walked up behind her, gave her a gentle hug, and felt that she weighed only seventy or eighty pounds, like a toy in Richard's hands.

Richard recalled the Heimlich maneuver: wrapping his arms around her waist from under her armpits, making a fist with one hand and placing it on her upper abdomen below her chest, while tightly wrapping the fist with the other hand and quickly applying force inward.

Gently!

Be gentle!

Richard warned himself not to break her ribs.

After three consecutive times, Han Qing spat out a mouthful of cream before finally recovering.

Richard breathed a sigh of relief and asked, speechless, "So, Senior Sister Han, what exactly... are you doing?"

"—I didn't steal any food." Han Qing's first words were this, her face still covered in cream stains, with bits of food still stuck to the corners of her mouth, her cheeks flushed red, whether from holding it in or from embarrassment, it was hard to tell.

Richard's lips twitched, and he pointed at Han Qing's face.

Han Qing quickly wiped her face with a tissue, then tried to explain, "I really didn't. I—I was actually just—clearing out my inventory—I bought two days' worth, and they'll expire if I don't eat them soon."

Richard chuckled and left, closing the door behind him: "Next time you can lock the door when you eat."

Wouldn't locking it make people think I was stealing food even more? Han Qing's ears turned as red as if they were dripping blood.

Click, the door closed.

The room finally quieted down.

Han Qing breathed a sigh of relief, then looked at the cream puffs on the ground, feeling a pang of regret.

Such a waste.

Two cream puffs cost $3.50, which was already a luxury for her.

She can't bear to eat it even once a week.

Han Qing looked at the door, then squatted down and picked it up.

She gently patted off the part that was on the ground.

My mother told me not to waste food.

Han Qing stuffed the cream puff into her mouth and squatted down to eat it.

Thankfully, it wasn't wasted.

She was content.

Click.

Richard pushed open the door and poked his head in: "By the way, Senior Sister Han, are you going to Princeton tomorrow?"

Eyes facing each other.

Han Qing's lips drooped, her whole face fell like a pitiful little bun, and her eyes welled up with tears, as if she was about to cry.

Richard thought for a second and thoughtfully switched the door lock to deadbolt.

Click.

The door closed again.

Richard left after drawing blood and filling the Blood Box. This time, he didn't dare to say goodbye to Han Qing. If he did it a few more times, she would really choke to death.

And I'm very busy today; I have to accompany Debbie to the public mass at St. Peter's Cathedral later.

It is said that a very important person has come to the Vatican, supposedly a cardinal of bishop rank, the kind who is qualified to succeed the pope.

The situation outside is not favorable for Debbie, and Richard must go with her; he can't let his nanny get into danger.

Richard felt as worried as if he had given birth to a daughter.

Isabella looked very grim; so far, there had been no progress.

Of the more than 300 police superintendents, more than 200 chose to wait and see, while most of the remaining 100 or so were waiting for others to make a statement first.

O'Connor's investigation was not going well.

Even if he is the Chief Superintendent of Police, he cannot fight against the massive system.

He said wearily, "Isabella, every step of the way is causing me trouble."

"The head of the technical department told me that due to a software malfunction, the surveillance cameras in the core area of ​​the prison and the video recordings in the visiting room were experiencing data loss due to data looping and overwriting, including some data from the night Samuel and Dali died..."

""

"I asked them to do third-party data recovery, but the administration department told me the budget was pending approval. I applied to you for special funding, but the technical department delayed it for three days with the excuse of following the compliant procedures. I still haven't received the surveillance video from that night."

O'Connor was extremely annoyed. If he encountered this mess with outsiders, he would definitely make those bastards understand what it meant to strike six blows in one second.

But now that we're all within the NYPD, we're colleagues no matter what. Even the most powerful commissioner can't afford to offend everyone, so he might as well give up his job.

Moreover, these seasoned officials are very shrewd. They don't violate regulations to obstruct, but they can always find various old rules and precedents to ensure that the rules are followed completely.

As long as O'Connor comes to them, they are very accommodating and will immediately grant him special permission to leave without any delay.

Whenever O'Connor looks away, she gets stuck on all sorts of ridiculous and absurd rules.

"The autopsy revealed trace evidence and clues left at the scene. It should have been processed through the expedited channel for major cases, but OCME only got access to Blake's body last night. I don't have time to find out who got stuck with it."

"All document access requires three to five separate signature processes, and it often involves cross-jurisdictional confidentiality issues, requiring multiple levels of approval."

"The Blake murder case was inexplicably placed in the regular case queue, with a standard waiting period of 45 days, and expedited processing was explicitly refused."

'

"Moreover, one-third of the investigation staff was forcibly reassigned. Everyone had a perfectly good reason, like insufficient police force or specializing in specific cases, and all that nonsense. I know they're deliberately stalling, and they know I know that, but I really can't do anything about it. Brian is right, we can't get anything done without thoroughly cleaning up the NYPD..."

'

O'Connor reached the same conclusion.

Isabella's face darkened.

Time was not on her side.

Every day it drags on, the pressure increases.

Just then, Adela, her trusted secretary whom she had brought from the IAB, strode in: "Director, look at these two news articles!"

Isabella glanced at it, and her face darkened.

"Donald Party's leading congressional candidate Marty questions: Can the acting female bureau chief handle the NYPD?" — Forbes News

"Blake's family gave interviews, claiming that Blake was a conscientious police officer and that his death was entirely due to the directional errors made by NYPD Acting Commissioner Isabella in the Samuel and Daly deaths. They will file a lawsuit, arguing that the NYPD investigation has severely tarnished Blake's reputation and caused further harm to the victims' families, blah blah blah..." — New York Post

"FXXK!" Isabella gritted her teeth.

Just then, my phone rang, and it was from Manterson.

Her expression grew increasingly grim, and she replied, "Mr. Mayor, what can I do for you?"

Mentorson's impatient voice rang out: "Three days! Chief Rose! The deceased's family keeps bothering me, and that damned Theodore is using this as an excuse to attack me! Why do I have to clean up your mess? You thought you were so great?"

"Listen up, Isabella! You have three days! Three days! In three days, there will be a public hearing at City Hall regarding the murder of Blake. You will be subject to public questioning from the City Council, the media, citizen representatives, the police union, and the judicial system!"

"If you still can't identify the mastermind by then, I'll hand this case over to the FBI!!"

The phone hangs up.

Isabella finally experienced firsthand the true predicament of the NYPD chief.

Unlike when she was at the IAB, she now faces pressure from all sides, not just internal issues within the NYPD.

The feeling is completely different.

O'Connor and Adela both looked at Isabella.

Everyone was counting on her to come up with a solution.

There are countless people outside waiting to see her make a fool of herself!

Isabella felt immense pressure, but also a strange excitement and tremor emanating from the depths of her soul.

That's it!

This is exactly the feeling I wanted!

The whole world is watching me!

Wait for my orders!

"Excellent! Excellent!" Isabella took a deep breath and suddenly laughed, "Since the conservative methods didn't work, let's try my method!"

St. Patrick's Cathedral.

A side hall was designated as a special area for the saintess.

Catherine went out to socialize with people from the church. Her daughter was a complete idiot, so she had to seize every opportunity to build connections and pave the way for her daughter's future.

Debbie strolled excitedly through the private courtyard, much like a prisoner being allowed to exercise.

The last time she came was for midnight mass, which was so busy that she didn't have time to visit the place.

Richard closed the last page of his endocrinology textbook.

The "Soul and Desire" branch ultimately got stuck at level 2, 60%.

It can't be upgraded anymore.

its stuck.

It's not that he didn't study it thoroughly enough; he has already finished studying it completely.

From endocrine systems to neurotransmitters, from hormone regulation to receptor binding, he knew every pathway by heart. The last page of the last book on his bookshelf had already been turned, and there was nothing left unread.

This road has come to an end.

He stood at the end of the road, with no new path ahead; his soul and desires were stuck at 60%.

Human understanding of the soul is still far too shallow.

Richard had no choice but to change direction.

The most likely direction is...

He looked at the three semi-transparent [puppet strings] extending from his body.

Because it connects to the flesh puppet, Richard temporarily named it "Puppet Thread".

One line connects to the fly puppet next to Antonio, one line connects to the fly puppet next to Inspector Roderick, and one line connects to the mink puppet in the direction of Hart Island.

Richard's finger reached for the [Puppet Strings], passing through them like a beam of light, but he didn't touch anything.

The thread also passed through his fingers, like an illusory shadow.

Richard tried to touch it with his magical hand, as if he were groping for the touch of pain.

Two invisible tentacles stretched towards the sky, yet they remained unreachable.

What other directions can we try?

Flesh and blood puppets...

Fresh flesh and blood?

Richard then tried touching it with fresh flesh and blood, but it didn't work either.

besides..

magic?

Magic surged from Richard's fingertips, moving along the direction of the [Puppet Strings].

This time it actually worked.

The magic flowed out along the [puppet strings]!

Is that so?

"Ding! You have mastered a method for infusing magic into flesh and blood puppets. [Soul and Desire] Knowledge: Level 2, 60%—"

>72%.

""

It increased my knowledge of "Soul and Desire" by a whopping 12% in one go!

Richard was pleasantly surprised.

He calmed down, looked at his hands, and then at the [Puppet Strings].

Richard immediately revived a fly puppet.

A new "puppet string" has appeared between him and the fly puppet.

Richard attempted to transfer magic, which easily flowed into the fly puppet's body.

But it didn't change at all.

Richard infused it with another point of magic.

There was still no response.

Richard infused it with another 3 points of magic, and the fly puppet felt an unbearable sensation.

Richard roughly understood that it had reached the limit of its magic.

But what's the use of that?

What do flies need magic for?

It can't cast magic.

It wasn't even conscious; it was just a moving corpse.

But the magic was indeed absorbed by it.

Richard examined it carefully but couldn't see any change in the fly.

"Fly around once."

A fly circled around Richard.

The speed didn't change; it looked exactly the same as before.

The abundance of magic power in the "fresh flesh and blood" determines the physical strength of the flesh and blood puppet.

Directly inputting magic power will not improve physical strength.

Perhaps in the magical world, necromancers could find a large number of corpses of magical creatures that could use magic, revive them, and then infuse them with magic power, so that the flesh puppets could use magic.

But such a thing doesn't exist on Earth at all!

Meow~ Shadow ran back from the yard and jumped into Richard's arms.

Richard held the shadow in his arms and casually petted the cat.

The shadow's back rose and fell slightly beneath his palm, its breathing even, and a comfortable snoring sound came from its throat.

Debbie was still outside calling out, "Shadow! Shadow, where are you?!"

Richard continued to ponder.

Flesh remodeling can bring a corpse to life, restore the vitality of severed limbs, and allow organs to maintain function outside the body, but these…

Does "movement" truly mean "life"?

The cells in a corpse are dividing, metabolizing, and responding to external stimuli. From a biological point of view, it is alive, but from another perspective, it is a dead body.

The shadow rolled over in his arms, revealing its belly, and the tip of its tail curled around his wrist.

It breathes, it senses, and it actively adjusts its posture to make itself more comfortable in response to his touch.

Richard could see the memories of the flesh puppet completely, something the flesh puppet never had. The fly puppet might be rubbing its hands, which was probably the residual instinctive memory of the resurrected brain cells.

The flesh puppet is still dead, even though it looks like it can move.

What exactly is the difference between life and death?

Is it a soul?

What exactly is the soul?

Debbie ran into the room and saw Shadow curled up in Richard's arms, saying jealously, "Why can it lie in your arms? Why can't I!"

Richard didn't even look up: "It's a cat."

"I can be a cat too!" Debbie declared confidently.

Debbie tried to jump onto Richard's lap.

Richard reached out and precisely grabbed the back of her clothes, catching her mid-air, and placed her on the sofa beside him like a cat: "The editor said, minors are not allowed. Get off!"

"Who's the editor?" Debbie asked, disgruntled, then suddenly realized, "Wait, when did you become so strong?"

She was almost unable to resist; she was suspended in mid-air.

I weigh at least 115 pounds (52 kg)!

In reality, Debbie was deceiving herself; she never admitted that she weighed 120 pounds.

Debbie looked at Richard's hand suspiciously. It looked very ordinary, with long, slender fingers and distinct knuckles, like a doctor's hand, not the kind of muscular man who spends all his time lifting weights at the gym.

However, Debbie didn't think much of it and suddenly grabbed Shadow, pulling a crumpled silk scarf from her pocket.

It's the one given by the Virgin Mary.

Debbie haphazardly wrapped the scarf around the shadow's head.

The shadow angrily swung its tail, trying to tear the scarf off with its paws, but the scarf was wrapped too tightly, and it dared not use its paws. The more it struggled, the angrier it became.

Debbie pulled out her phone: "Haha! It's beautiful! Let me take a picture!"

Richard leaned back on the sofa, watching Debbie and Shadow fool around, and suddenly a question popped into his head:

If a corpse can come back to life, why can't inanimate objects come back to life?

What is the difference between a corpse and an inanimate object?

The shadow ran to Richard's side for help.

Richard reached out and removed the purple scarf.

The scarf is very light and soft, made of silk and some kind of blended fiber. It has a delicate and smooth feel and a faint luster under the light.

Richard glanced at Debbie, who was scrolling through videos on her phone.

Richard tried to soak the gauze with fresh flesh and blood, but failed immediately, like trying to pour water into a sieve.

Fresh flesh and blood cannot fuse with inanimate objects, but it can fuse with corpses, for reasons unknown.

He tried to infuse magic, but the magic, which could pass through the fabric, didn't stay in it; it just slid past.

What's missing?

The gauze scarf has no life, no cells, no blood, no bones, nothing at all.

Therefore, it cannot bear the soul, magic, and [fresh flesh and blood]?

Why?

Sawyer walked to the door and watched Richard examine the sacred scarf from all angles, his lips twitching slightly.

That was a sacred relic whose value was beyond measure; it had fallen on Debbie's shoulder and been seen by millions!

It is currently being repeatedly rubbed by an Asian man, as if he is checking what is so magical about it.

However, the saintess herself didn't say anything, and Sawyer didn't dare to say anything either.

Sawyer turned to Debbie: "Your Highness, it's time for Mass. You should change your clothes."

"Oh." Debbie followed the maid and the lady of etiquette to the dressing room.

Sawyer couldn't stand Richard studying the relics any longer, so he decided to turn a blind eye.

A moment later, Debbie came out wearing a pure white saint's dress.

The dress was made of soft fabric, with a band of light gold embroidery around the neckline; it was made overnight by a church tailor.

At least it's comfortable to wear, unlike last time when I couldn't even take it off.

Debbie twirled in front of the mirror, her skirt billowing, and said smugly, "Don't I look like a real saint?"

Richard glanced at it; Catholicism was still too conservative, hiding both of its advantages very well. He gave a negative review: "You'd look even more like it if you kept your mouth shut."

Debbie glared at him.

Catherine is back to help her daughter with her final check-up.

Sawyer arrived a few minutes later and, together with the etiquette officer, led Debbie out.

Richard followed behind.

Mass has begun.

The sound of the organ rose from the depths of the church, and the children's voices of the choir drifted down from the choirstand.

St. Patrick's Cathedral was packed with people, all of them dignitaries.

Richard stood on the edge.

The Mass was led by a lean and sharp-looking cardinal, dressed in a deep red robe.

His name seems to be Sebastian Hale?

Richard couldn't remember.

The group of people in the church appeared devout, but in reality, they didn't exhibit much non-Buddhist faith.

The two most devout were...

Irving stood in the corner, somehow managing to sneak in. He was dressed very inconspicuously, but in Richard's eyes, he was like a torch of faith, constantly radiating a vast amount of unclaimed faith.

The other person is Sebastian Hale, an old man who is indeed a devout believer, perhaps less so than Irving, but not by much.

The mass was very long, and Richard wasn't interested, so he turned to look outside.

It's very lively outside.

Three layers of police tape were put up in front of the main entrance of St. Patrick's Cathedral.

The devout Catholics who came for the pilgrimage were clearly divided from the Protestant and liberal protesters.

NYPD officers separated protesters from pilgrims.

Pilgrims stood outside the cathedral, dressed in neat clothes and holding rosaries and crosses.

Some had tears in their eyes, some closed their eyes and prayed softly, and some simply stood there, gazing up at the church spire, as if waiting for a new miracle.

Richard saw a vast number of people without faith, far more numerous than the crowd in the cathedral.

The protesters stood on the other side of the street.

They held up signs covered with slogans, some were shouting, some were speaking through megaphones, and their voices mingled together, absorbed by the stones of the church's exterior wall, turning into a muffled buzz.

NYPD officers stood between the two groups, hands on their harnesses, eyes fixed on a single point ahead, responding neither to the pilgrims' prayers nor the protesters' anger; they simply stood there.

Today is actually very dangerous.

The NYPD even sent a police superintendent to direct operations on-site, just in case it caused a riot.

An hour later, the Mass finally ended, and Richard clearly saw some dignitaries looking relieved.

It's really tough on you guys. You clearly don't believe, but you still have to try your best to pretend to be devout.

After a grand musical performance, Sebastian Hale, holding a golden crown of thorns in both hands and trailing the cardinal's crimson robe, walked up to Debbie.

The crowd quieted down.

Everyone held their breath, watching this scene intently.

Sebastian Hale raised the golden crown of thorns with both hands to eye level with Debbie, his posture solemn, his speech slow and deliberate: "Saint Debbie, this is a gift from the Vatican, blessed personally by His Holiness the Pope. May the glory of the Lord be with you, and may your steps lead more lost souls back to the Holy Light."

The crown is made of fine gold thread, its shape closely resembling the outline of thorny branches, and its luster is like solidified candlelight.

Debbie stared at the golden crown of thorns before her, thinking, "I'm rich! This thing must be pure gold! The Vatican wouldn't give me a gold-plated fake, but I wonder if it's hollow?"

Debbie pondered for a few seconds.

Sebastian Hale held up the golden crown of thorns with some confusion.

Sawyer's heart nearly stopped; he was terrified that Debbie would cause some more trouble.

"Saint-Debbie..." he whispered a reminder from behind.

Debbie then came to her senses and replied, "May the glory of the Lord be with you."

She lowered her head slightly.

Sebastian Hale's fingertips moved lightly and carefully as he placed the golden crown of thorns on the top of her head.

It's not hollow! It's heavy! Debbie slowly straightened up, and following the steps she had rehearsed many times beforehand, slowly turned around to face everyone present.

The golden crown of thorns softened her childishness, adding a layer of solemnity befitting a saint.

Under the interplay of light and shadow, Debbie truly seemed like a living goddess, bathed in divine radiance.

The entire room fell silent, and all eyes were fixed on her.

That unique Vatican Crown of Thorns is not a symbol of secular power, but the highest glory bestowed by faith, representing holiness recognized by the Holy See.

Thank goodness. Sawyer finally breathed a sigh of relief.

Washington National Cathedral.

Foster sighed. Debbie had finally gained the Vatican's recognition, and her canonization was only a matter of time.

He was unaware of what had transpired in the Vatican during this period. The Pope was simultaneously urging everyone to remain calm while crowning Debbie, the implications of which were difficult to articulate.

.

"Blasphemy! This is blasphemy!" The evangelical New York bishop Dawson Oswald's face turned ugly.

"The Vatican played a really dirty trick!! Pretending to be neutral while suddenly crowning Debbie!" Stanley Keaton, the National Superintendent of the Anglican Church, was also very dissatisfied.

"Do you have any clues about the miracle of the relic falling? Can it be replicated?" Grant Knight, the president of the New York Baptist Church, asked anxiously.

The two shook their heads.

To this day, they still haven't figured out how they did it.

They secretly invited top magicians, physicists, and engineers, but still couldn't figure out why.

As the choir sang their soaring and sacred songs, this scene was simultaneously projected onto a giant outdoor projection screen.

The pilgrims erupted in a thunderous roar of cheers.

The protesters unleashed even louder and more scathing attacks.

Richard observed that the density of apostolic beliefs had increased by 50%.

It must be said that the religion's handling of this matter was truly masterful. From beginning to end, all they needed was a golden crown, some lighting effects, and a cardinal, yet they greatly enhanced the piety of New York's believers.

Irving's torch of faith burned even more brightly in the church hall.

"Since you like having a god above your heads so much, I'll grant your wish!"

Richard snorted coldly.

Desire is ignited!

The torch above Irving's head suddenly swayed, and the light became even brighter, as if someone had poured a spoonful of oil into the flames in the wind, causing the flames to leap and rage.

An outbreak has occurred!

An invisible ripple spread outward from Irwin, sweeping over everyone in the main hall, through the stone pillars and stained glass windows of the lobby, and then over the pilgrims. Many of the protesters across the street were also affected.

The moment it swept over Irving, the torch above Irving's head suddenly shot up like a burning haystack, its intense light expanding outwards.

The piety that erupted during the infection outbreak combined with Irving's own piety.

Owen suddenly opened his eyes and looked in Debbie's direction, his pupils completely unfocused.

He didn't know what he saw, but it was as if he saw pure light, and in the light there was a golden crown of thorns, and beneath the crown were a pair of eyes watching him!

"I'm on the right track!" Irving felt a surge of power coursing through his body.

Saint-Debbie has approved of me!

When he saw the crown of golden thorns, he immediately thought of the Gathering of the Holy Thorns.

This is a revelation!

Debbie led me to begin with the sacred thorns, to begin the most sacred work!

Some people started to cry.

Someone raised their hand and made the sign of the cross on their chest.

Some people knelt down excitedly and recited prayers.

The undecided faith coalesced into a tangible mist of light.

From inside the church to outside the church.

Kyrie Irving's devotion is so profound that countless people never experience it in their entire lives—that absolute purity, that absolute selflessness.

An absolutely unwavering faith has thoroughly cleansed the hearts of countless people.

Richard watched with a pang of heartache as the faith of the lost dwindled away.

These are all my beliefs!

What a waste!

Just then, he seemed to sense something, and saw that the blazing fire of piety above Owen's head had changed.

It condenses into light, pure light.

The light split.

Two points of light peeled off Irving's head, like ripe fruit falling from a branch.

What is this thing?

Richard looked at him with a puzzled expression.

Two points of light, like sprites, flew automatically into Richard's body.

"Ding! You have obtained [Leaping Soul] x2."

"Ding! You have acquired [Leaping Soul] for the first time. [Soul and Desire] Knowledge: Level 2, 72% → 102%!"

"Ding! The [Soul and Desire] branch has been upgraded to level 3 (2%)! Spirit +3."

"Ding! Unlocked Level 3 skill in the [Soul and Desire] branch: [Soul Animation]!"