"Is this Mr. Sid Taylor's home? There is a letter for you here."
The young postman looked at the castle, which was marked by the passage of time and looked like it had been abandoned for a long time. After hesitating for a moment, he stepped forward and knocked on the door.
There was no response, so I typed it again.
Is anyone home?
After waiting for a long time without any response, the postman scratched his head and checked the address again.
Yes, this is the place. However, it is quite far from the main urban area, and there are many abandoned buildings. Perhaps the owners have moved away.
Just then, he felt a pair of withered tree-like hands rest on his shoulders; they were more like thin, dry claws than hands.
Startled, the postman turned around and saw a tall, thin old woman wearing a dark green cotton coat.
She looked really old, with a hunched back and a face full of crisscrossing wrinkles.
She was definitely over a hundred years old, the postman thought. Had the god of death overlooked her existence, or did she still have unpaid sins in the mortal world?
"Hello! Is this Sid Taylor's house?" The postman waved the envelope in his hand. "There's a letter for him here, but there's no mailbox in front of your house."
"Just give it to me." Her voice was very faint, as if it could be easily blown away by the wind, but it was still caught by the postman who was eager to complete his task.
"Okay, here you go. Please make sure you deliver it to Mr. Sid," the postman said solemnly.
Of course, he has said this countless times.
The old woman did not answer him. After taking the letter, the tightly closed door suddenly opened, but the postman did not see anyone inside.
Once the old woman's figure disappeared into the castle, the postman silently praised the god of death. He knew that there were always people with special abilities in the church, and the owner of this castle was probably one of them.
Humming a little tune, the postman continued on his way to his next destination.
The old woman walked shakily into the castle's study.
At the desk, a middle-aged man with a beard was writing something. When he saw the old woman come in, he looked up and asked, "What's wrong? If you have nothing to do, go out for a walk. Don't worry about me. There are too many things to deal with after His Holiness the Pope passed away."
"Father, the postman just delivered a letter to you at the door," the old woman said with difficulty, opening her mouth.
"A letter? Who would write to me anymore?"
Not many people know his address, but none of them need to contact him this way.
For over a hundred years, no one has sent him a letter since his death; after all, in the eyes of the world, he has long since gone to the abyss.
"The most beloved elder of the believers in death:"
Hello!
We are very anxious to hear that the church elders have formed a selection committee to choose a new pope from among the four Sons of God. We believe that we are the most suitable candidates to succeed to the papacy and we would like to participate in this selection. However, the time you have set is too rushed and we are afraid that we will not be able to arrive on the day of the selection. Therefore, we hope that you can postpone the day of the selection for a few days. We would be very grateful!
Two Holy Sons Forgotten by the Church of the Dead
"Absurd! How could my Church of the Dead have overlooked two holy sons?" Sid slammed the letter on the table, furious.
He rarely felt such strong emotions since becoming a ghost.
He felt this was a provocation from the enemy. What did it mean to think he was the most suitable candidate to succeed the Pope? Weren't their four sons worthy of succeeding the Pope?
Do they think just anyone can become their pope?
This is no small matter; it concerns the dignity of the entire Church of the Dead!
"I've heard that those four holy sons have been making a lot of noise these days... Could it be that one of them... is behind this?" The old woman said softly as she sat down on a soft chair.
"What is the purpose? What is the significance? Besides, the younger generation doesn't even know where I live." Elder Sid sat down. There are no more than five people in this world who know his address, whether they are the dead or not.
"Could it be that an elder has indeed discovered a new Holy Son? I heard that Dawn picked up a Holy Son along the way."
The elder slapped the table, "Then they can tell me directly, there's no need to make it so mysterious."
Should the time be delayed?
“It’s possible my address has been leaked. How could I postpone the selection for a letter from an unknown source? If it was Dawn or one of our adversaries, wouldn’t that make us a laughingstock?” Sid put the letter aside and decided to wait and see how things developed.
He wanted to see who was playing such a big joke, daring to mock even the Church of the Dead.
The next day, inside the Cathedral of Death in Gilga.
"Elder, we received a letter yesterday."
All the members of the elders' selection committee had arrived, and the archbishop was also sitting to the side, but he was holding a letter in his hand.
"Yes, one was sent to the cathedral, and the other to our lodgings. This is too much... Just who could possibly know exactly where we live?"
The second elder stroked his beard and said with some puzzlement.
"The letter writer claims to be about two forgotten holy sons. Do you have any leads?" Elder Sid asked with a gloomy face, but the stoic expression typical of zombie-like undead made him look no different from his usual self.
“The four Holy Sons are the most outstanding Death Chosen Ones selected by our sect over the years. You should know that to succeed the Pope, one must not only be at the level of a god descended from the divine level or about to break through to the level of a god descended from the divine level, but also be under the age of forty-five, and preferably have the support of a family within the sect. I really can’t think of anyone else.” The Second Elder shook his head.
“Even if someone meets the requirements, they are still not qualified unless they are a holy son whom we have nurtured for many years!” Sid sneered.
“This letter was sent from the city of Lampuga,” the archbishop mused.
"There aren't many outstanding people there," the Second Elder said.
"It's just an address. In any case, our time will not be delayed. Whether it's a prank from another sect or someone who is truly presumptuous and has wild ideas, let's put this matter aside and focus on preparing for the selection." The Grand Elder took out the drafted selection rules and had his servants distribute them to the other elders.
"What if the two people who sent the letter on the day of the selection actually come?" The archbishop had a feeling that no one would deliberately play such a prank.
“That’s even better. I want to see who has such a big mouth and is the most suitable candidate to be the Pope, hehe.” Sid sneered.
Even if two qualified individuals do appear, the God of Death will not allow these two suddenly appearing people to participate in the selection unless he personally intervenes.
The position of Pope is not a child's game.
...
"Hey! Where did this skeletal hand come from? Stop pulling my foot!"
The middle-aged man's angry voice rang out in the train carriage, passing through layers of private compartments and reaching Phil Gray's ears.
Then another woman screamed, "Damn it, it feels like a ghost is spying on me! Where's the train conductor?"
“When will this chaos end?” Phil Gray said helplessly.
The train they were on had just passed through a valley called the Valley of the Dead. It is said that a long, long time ago, hundreds of thousands of believers in the dead were bewitched and committed suicide together. As a result, they were rejected by the Abyss of the Dead, and the spirits they became could only wander in this valley.
Each time the train passed by, it would pick up some of the dead souls.
Before Eli could reply to the boss, he heard someone knocking on the wooden board outside their private room.
"You'll get used to it. It happens every time I pass by. As long as the sun rises as usual tomorrow, these spirits will naturally disappear. But friend, your voice sounds familiar. Have we met somewhere before?"
The voice was unpleasant and remained vivid in Phil Gray's memory. He quickly stood up and walked outside the private room, where he saw a tall young man standing in the corridor.
His eyes were sunken and dark, his skin was an unnatural bluish-gray, and he had short, curly brown hair. He looked somewhat thin and was wearing a black robe from the Church of the Dead.
"It's you! I didn't expect you to come to my door like this!"
Phil Gray stared at the young man.
"Oh? Do I know you? Your voice sounds familiar, but I can't quite place it."
“I will never forget you, but I really didn’t expect you to be so young. I thought the person who sold me Elder Dawn’s corpse would be a treacherous middle-aged man,” Phil Gray said slowly.
"Oh, I remember now. How is it treacherous and cunning? It was clearly a mutually agreeable transaction, and you even made a lot of money off me. If I hadn't been in dire need of money at the time, do you think you could have bought the corpse of an elder of the Dawn Cult with your meager funds?"
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