I searched and fought in America.

"Mr. Michael?"

Rosen called out softly.

Mihir suddenly came to his senses.

He looked up at the young man in front of him and swallowed hard.

Then he realized that his sitting posture had become upright at some point, with his back straight and his hands neatly placed on his knees, just like when he first met his grandfather as a child.

"Father Rosen," he began, his voice carrying a respect he himself was unaware of.

"Are you... are you truly the one chosen by God?"

Rosen looked at him but did not answer.

She just smiled slightly.

Mihir's heart skipped a beat.

He suddenly realized what he had asked.

"I'm sorry!" He quickly lowered his head. "I know, I know, mortals shouldn't pry into the will of the gods. I overstepped my bounds. I atone for my sins, I..."

"It's alright."

Rosen's voice wasn't loud, but it made Michel stop.

He looked up at Rosen.

Rosen stood up and straightened his clothes:

"Mr. Michael, our chat is over. It's time for us to get going."

Mihir paused for a moment, then immediately stood up:

"Yes, yes! Father Rosen, please!"

He stepped aside, extended his right hand toward the door, and made a standard "please" gesture.

Rosen nodded and walked out.

As he reached the door, he suddenly stopped, glanced back at Mihir, and then reached out and patted him on the shoulder.

Let's go together.

Mihir's body stiffened for a moment.

He lowered his head slightly, lagged half a step behind, and followed Rosen out together.

---

Outside the door, the night was already deep.

Morris was already waiting by the car.

Seeing the two of them come out, he opened the car door and bowed slightly.

Rosen got into the back seat, and Mihir hesitated for a moment before getting in and sitting next to Rosen.

Morris closed the car door, got into the driver's seat, and started the engine.

The car slowly drove away from the Ronnie neighborhood and headed towards the city center.

The carriage was very quiet.

Michel sat in the back seat with his hands on his knees and his eyes fixed on the front, but his mind was a mess.

He recalled the beam of light from earlier.

I think of my healed wound.

He couldn't help but turn his head and glance at the person next to him.

Rosen leaned back in his chair, looking at the night view outside the window with a calm expression.

Mihir looked away and took a deep breath.

He had many questions he wanted to ask.

But I don't know whether I should ask or not.

"Mr. Michael".

Rosen suddenly spoke up.

Mihir immediately sat up straight:

"exist!"

Rosen turned his head, looked at him, and smiled:

"Don't be so nervous. I've said it before, we're partners."

Michel was taken aback.

Then he gave a wry smile.

partner?

If he had heard that sentence two hours ago, he would have thought it was just a polite remark from a Chinese-American gang leader.

but now……

He opened his mouth, but ultimately couldn't hold back:

"Father Rosen, I...I have a request."

"explain."

Mihir carefully considered his words and cautiously asked:

"I wonder if I might have the opportunity... to observe your sect's philosophy?"

He looked into Rosen's eyes, his tone fervent:

"Since you are willing to become the Holy Father of the Iron Claw Gang, surely the sect's philosophy must contain divine inspiration?"

Rosen's expression froze for a moment.

What are the sect's philosophies?

His mind raced.

Iron Claw Church was a church he had just founded, less than 24 hours ago.

He did have doctrines, which he wrote himself, but they were just a few guiding principles and could not be considered a complete "ideological system".

not to mention--

He glanced at Mihir's expectant eyes.

This person already regarded him as a "divine messenger".

If he saw those few rough doctrines, wouldn't he find them too simplistic? Wouldn't he have doubts?

Rosen's thoughts raced, but he showed nothing on his face.

He was silent for two seconds, then smiled slightly:

"Mr. Michael, the teachings I preach can only be understood by my followers."

He paused, his tone becoming somewhat profound:

"after all--"

He thought for a long time, trying to find a suitable word.

A sentence I had read in a past life suddenly popped into my mind.

He continued:

"The law should not be lightly transmitted, and the Way should not be sold cheaply."

Michel was stunned.

He pondered these two sentences, a look of realization flashing in his eyes.

"The law should not be lightly passed on... the Way should not be sold cheaply..." He repeated it softly, then nodded heavily.

"I understand now. The knowledge of the gods is indeed not easily obtained. I was presumptuous."

He lowered his head and stopped asking questions.

Rosen secretly breathed a sigh of relief when he saw his thoughtful expression.

We finally managed to get away with it.

The carriage returned to silence.

The car continued forward, getting closer and closer to the city center.

Mihir remained silent for a long time.

His gaze was fixed ahead, but his mind kept replaying those two sentences.

The more precious something is, the less easily it should be given away.

He understands this principle.

But it was precisely because he understood that he was even more certain that Rosen possessed something truly precious.

Otherwise, he wouldn't need to be so cautious.

Michel took a deep breath, turned his head, and looked at Rosen.

A newfound determination appeared in his eyes.

"Father Rosen".

Rosen looked at him: "Hmm?"

Mihir opened his mouth, then said, word by word:

"I want to join your sect."

Rosen's expression froze again.

Looking at Mihir's serious face, he was momentarily at a loss for words.

join in?

The captain of this special police team, after knowing him for less than two hours, actually asked to join his church simply because he had witnessed a "miracle."

Rosen twitched the corner of his mouth.

He seemed to underestimate the significance of "miracles" in the eyes of the students at West University.

In this religiously superstitious country, witnessing supernatural power firsthand has a far deeper and more lasting impact on the mind of a devout believer than he could have imagined.

But he quickly regained his composure, and was even somewhat delighted, as it had come to him effortlessly.

After all, Michel is a high-ranking official in the judicial system of a large city, and his intelligence and knowledge far surpass those of ordinary people.

The other party's status was even far greater than his, making it a pipe dream to subdue them.

As a result, the other party took the initiative to bring it up.

No, he has to seize this opportunity. Looks like he'll have to use his ultimate show-off technique!

Rosen's expression returned to calm, even carrying a hint of detached aloofness.

He shook his head slightly:

"Mr. Michael, joining my church is never a decision to be made lightly."

His voice was soft, but every word was clear:

"I don't want you to make a hasty choice because of a momentary impulse."

He turned his head and looked at the night view outside the window:

Ask your heart, find out the answer, and then come to me.

Michel was stunned.

He looked at Rosen's calm profile, at those eyes that seemed to see through everything, and a complex emotion welled up in his heart.

There was no rush to accept it.

There was no overjoyed welcome.

There wasn't even any further explanation.

It's just to let him ask himself what he truly feels.

This attitude, on the contrary, made Mihir even more convinced that the person in front of him was not an ordinary swindler or charlatan.

Truly precious things are never delivered to your door.

Mihir took a deep breath and nodded heavily:

"I see."

He didn't say anything more.

He just sat there quietly, head down, as if deep in thought, or perhaps in prayer.

Rosen looked away and continued to gaze out the window.

A faint smile curved at the corners of his lips.

---

The car drove through the night.

Twenty minutes later, it stopped in front of a brightly lit building.

Houston Central Hospital.

Rosen opened the car door and got out.

Mihir followed closely behind.

"Father Rosen," he whispered, "the survivors are inside."

Rosen nodded and looked up at the building.

Fifth floor, special care ward area.

The thirteen survivors are right there now.

Rosen withdrew his gaze and strode towards the hospital entrance.