BL | Vicious Cannon Fodder Turns Over Every Day [Quick Wear]

【My Father, My Lord】 107-108

Chapter 107 My Father, My Lord (1)
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"Enter at the narrow gate. For broad is the gate and broad is the way that leads to destruction, and many are those who go in there. But narrow is the gate and hard is the way that leads to eternal life, and few are there who find it. ."

----"Bible: New Testament Gospel of Matthew"

On an island more than 10,000 kilometers away from China, the winters dominated by the Mediterranean climate are cold and humid. Lead-gray clouds fell heavily in the sky, and heavy water vapor condensed in the air.

It's going to rain.

The patriarch of the Duval family, Grandfather Duvall, the legendary mafia godfather, fell asleep forever in such a breathless winter.

Men and women in black formal suits stood in front of the cemetery, with their downcast faces showing a kind of solemn sadness that was half true and half false. Sad orchestral music hovered over the cemetery, as if the God of Death was sobbing sadly.

Behind the silk handkerchiefs that people used to wipe their tears, the twisted expressions hidden slightly revealed a kind of hyena-like greed.

The shadow government that has ruled the island for more than half a century is about to undergo a bloody and thorough reshuffle after today. It is still unknown who the final winner will be.

The dangerous undercurrent flows silently through the black forest of steles, and a bet more attractive than death has just been put on the table.

A thin cough suddenly and subtly caught everyone's attention amid the ups and downs of wailing.

Its owner seemed to be trying his best to suppress this impolite sound, but unfortunately it backfired. Most of the mafia families had already cast their vague and spying glances at this place in various unnoticed gaps.

The cough came from a young Asian priest.

No one thought why the godfather's funeral would be presided over by a Chinese. This should have been a major event worthy of pulling the person in charge out of the warehouse and killing him, but this beautiful priest who looked like a minor successfully persuaded with his beauty. After catching this group of thugs in suits who were ready to make a move, the heirs even wanted to give the principal a whole box of gold as a reward.

It seems that the death of a legendary figure is not as important to this group of desperadoes with their heads in their belts as the little beauty readily available in front of them.

He looked really beautiful, so beautiful in the gray funeral.

Wearing an ascetic black robe, the silver cross around his neck still shone brightly under the dim sky.

It is enough to see how pious and diligent the owner is in wiping it.

He has black hair and light eyes, and his face is as delicate as a fallen angel under the throne of Jehovah God.

I wonder how beautiful and soft the body hidden under that black robe is, and whether there is a way to heaven hidden between the legs.

Beasts in the skin of civilized people always like this, praying and blaspheming at the same time.

Ruan Yao half-covered her mouth with a guilty conscience, her thick and slender eyelashes trembled, and she turned to stare at the tombstone with the godfather's name engraved on it intently.

It seems that this can filter out the strange, needle-pricking, wolf-like eyes around him.

They evaluated Ruan Yao as weak.