Since the new member was accepted, the private funeral could not be held after all.
Three days later, Qin Zhongquan, in the boredom of the inertial cruise on the Terminal, once again met the priest who was praying at the dining table.
As a secular religion widely spread in the eight worlds of mankind, the Thorze religion naturally does not have those despicable and strict doctrines. The so-called prayer before meals is more about substance than ritual, and all you need is a sincere heart.
The priest put his hands together and muttered a few unclear scriptures, and the ceremony was over.
Qin Zhongquan sat down across from him. A humanoid, bipedal, self-propelled food delivery robot, lavishly dressed by the crew, immediately stepped forward, presented a bag of Saturnian gin and accompanying utensils, and then took off as if in a hurry to be reincarnated. Of course, its heavy footsteps didn't get far before the free mercenaries' deadly joke caught up with it. After a few rounds of crisp firecrackers, the floor was shaken by the thud of a heavy object.
"Father Lewis." He toyed with his empty stainless steel wine glass. "It seems your bet wasn't very successful."
"But it's far from the end." The priest used the vacuum pump beside the dining table to suck out the soup from the bowl, wiped it clean, and pushed it in front of Qin Zhongquan. "Returnee, now let's talk about your first doubt!"
"Snap!" The wine glass stuck to the dining table, making the expected metal collision sound.
"Before this, I was a little curious," Qin Zhongquan said seriously, "Is there no dietary rules in the teachings of Thorze?"
"Of course. That's our culture after all." The priest remained calm, grabbed the wine bag, and with a little force, pulled out the special rubber cork that had already been half pulled out, and squeezed half a cup for himself and the outsider.
The transparent liquor, like liquid gold, condensed into spherical beads at the mouth of the wine bag, and then quickly slid to the bottom due to the hydrophilic adsorption capacity of the container surface. However, even so, the surface tension of the gin still caused them to form an arched arc, like the ecological dome on a distant planet outside the porthole.
The priest casually let go of the wine bag, letting it float and spin slowly not far from him. Then he pinched the edge of the soup bowl and let the wine slightly wet his lips.
"A golden glow rises on the horizon, and the sky welcomes the coming of the Son of God in its own way."
"Well, does this have anything to do with your culture?" Qin Zhongquan asked.
The priest narrowed his gray eyes. "It's an excerpt from the sixteenth line of Book Two of The Posthumous Talk. The Ninth Saint's description of gin."
"What's the meaning?"
"I don't know," the priest replied. "Only the brewing process has been passed down intact. The scriptures also say that the twelve saints, each carrying endless wealth and knowledge, left the temple from different starting points and headed for different destinations. After the Great Chaos, we studied for decades, but no one knows where they went." He smacked his lips and continued, "Thoraze certainly has rules, but we only abstain from non-alcoholic beverages and anything else that numbs the mind—including holographic games, uncontrolled unions between men and women, or the rarest soul-enriching potions and mind-awakening pills you pirates crave."
"No wonder. No wonder others say you are all alcoholics." Qin Zhongquan almost spit out the wine in his mouth.
"After all, what we drink is not wine." The priest drank the rest of the bowl. "According to doctrine, it is holy water given by God."
Qin Zhongquan savored the sweetness at the end. "Well, I do agree with that," he said, gently setting down his glass. "I've had a lot of strong liquor, but I've never seen a flavor this soft and smooth throughout."
"Of course it is. It came from that case you stole from my vault, and it's the finest gin in all Saints' World—and I paid dearly for it!"
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