Black mist descends, and I and the witches take refuge in the dungeon.

Hearing the old priest's words, Mir nodded.

"If I could, I'd like to see that statue."

"Now? Not now. Let's wait until Renee and the others return. The Vatican needs someone to guard this place."

The old priest refused Mil's request, but Mil didn't say anything more. He nodded and then took out a piece of paper.

"What are you doing with the paper?"

The old priest looked at Milton, who suddenly pulled out a pen and paper, with a hint of curiosity on his face.

"I'm writing something down, things I discovered along the way after traversing the black fog, things that are like rules."

"You're that smart?!"

The old priest looked at Mil, his surprise undisguised.

Mil calmly wrote down the rules:

"If you make another subtle criticism of me, I'll write a rule wrong."

"Don't do that, Your Excellency Mil. You are the divine spokesperson appointed by the Goddess of Light. If you heed the goddess's words, it will surely be for..."

The old priest kept babbling on and on, praising Mil. Mil found the old priest annoying and quickened his writing.

"Alright, that's all. If you keep praising me, I'm going to replace the goddess statue with myself."

After saying this, Mil handed the paper to the old priest and instructed him:

"The things above are all things I figured out with my life on the line. I can't guarantee they're completely accurate, but they've all helped me survive. Please help me spread the word a little. I need to take my wife and rest for a while."

"When Ms. Renee returns, please take us to the basement. I need to see that statue; it will determine my next move."

Having said that, Mil didn't give the old priest a chance to refuse and turned to leave.

The old priest had no intention of trying to persuade him to stay. He smiled and nodded, but as he looked at the rules written by Milton, a hint of indescribable gloom appeared in his eyes.

"Your Excellency, these rules will save many lives."

The old priest suddenly spoke up.

This time, his tone lacked the usual quirky exaggeration; instead, it was filled with an indescribable solemnity and respect.

You're welcome. I'm here for everyone, and everyone is here for me.

Mil replied nonchalantly.

The old priest smiled, subconsciously repeating Mil's words, and then got up and walked towards where the refugees were.

Meanwhile, Mir walked over to Andrebel.

He led Andre Bell to a relatively quiet corner on the west side of the church.

There was an empty space left by a row of benches that had been moved, and several sacks of dry food were piled up in the corner, which could be used as a backrest.

There weren't many people here before, because the light from the soul lamp was rather dim.

But Mil also has a Soul Lamp, so he's not worried about that issue.

He still didn't quite believe everything here; he felt most at ease with his own soul lamp.

After the red lamp was placed, although its light was not as bright as the giant soul lamp in the center of the hall, it was safe enough.

Mil took off his coat, folded it neatly, and placed it in front of Andrebel, then said:

"Even in this apocalyptic black fog, diseases still exist if you sit on this. If you stay on this cold ground for one night, you will get sick, and that will be a big problem."

Without giving Andre Bell a chance to refuse, Mil directly pressed Andre Bell down and forced her to sit on the coat.

Seeing that Andrebel didn't struggle, Mil nodded in satisfaction, then plopped down next to Andrebel and whispered:

"Lie down and rest, cherish this hard-won rest time, as there may not be another chance."

Andrebelle responded softly, looked at Mil, reached out and tugged at Mil.

"Honey, I still have room here. You, you come and join me."

"Neither of them would be comfortable that way."

Mir retorted.

But this time, Anderbel continued:

"I have some friends who want me to come closer, and then... I won't feel so cold anymore."

Having said that, Anderbel raised his head and looked straight at Mir.

Seeing Andrebel's expression, Mil knew he shouldn't refuse any longer.

He moved closer to the other person and lay down on his side as gentlemanly as possible.

Anderbel looked at Mil, hesitated for a moment, then relaxed his shoulders and pressed his body against Mil's.

However, the moment their bodies touched, their breathing quickened for a split second.

The church was very quiet.

Only the occasional low cough and turning over could be heard from afar, but these were mostly drowned out by the surrounding wind.

The soul lamp above my head emitted a soft crackling sound, bringing a small sense of security.

"Honey, I have a question for you."

Andrebelle's voice came from beside Mil's ear, her voice tinged with curiosity:

"You just said 'I am for everyone, and everyone is for me,' do you really think that way?"

Mil leaned against the wall, his eyes closed.

"Half and half, I didn't think that much when I said it, but if I really had to choose, I would prefer 'everyone for me' a little more."

Anderbel was silent for a moment, then let out a very soft laugh:

"But when you said that just now, it sounded like you meant it."

"That's just being stubborn, a way to deceive the old priest. You have to pretend to be kind in front of him so that things will go smoothly."

Hearing Mil's reply, Anderbel smiled again, then fell silent.

After about seven or eight minutes, Mir's breathing became calmer.

It even had a slight snoring sound.

He is too tired.

Anderbel listened to Mil's snoring without getting annoyed. Instead, she gently turned over, glanced at his closed-eye profile in the light of the soul lamp, then pulled her coat a little closer to him before closing her eyes again.

In the church hall on the other side, the old priest was standing in the middle of the crowd, holding the note in his hand.

He slowly read the contents of the note aloud, his voice low, even hushed, but under the pale golden light, his voice was clear enough for everyone to hear.

After reading it aloud, he patiently explained the meaning of each rule again and repeatedly urged everyone to remember it.

The old priest's lips were very dry, and he was very tired.

But the body of his son on the dome constantly weighed on him, urging him to be stronger.

The old priest knew that his path needed to burn brighter for a while longer.

Outside the church, the black fog continued to churn, and occasionally a terrifying shadow would slip past the edge of the Vatican, carrying a strong sense of being spied on.

But the shadows would keep their distance when they got close to the church's outer wall.

The light of the soul lamp was still shining, and that was all.

Perhaps due to divine blessing, during this time, Mir did not hear any knocking or strange whispers.

Only the occasional soft footsteps of the old priest as he rose and moved about, and the gentle crackling of the burning charcoal in the stove, maintained a steady rhythm in this enclosed space.

Just then, the sound of hurried hoofbeats came from outside.