When the Saint comes, she does not collect food.

The dark clouds in the sky grew darker, like thick ink splattered across parchment, spreading slowly along the grain.

Lightning, carrying thunder, raced through the gaps in the clouds, casting booming sounds to the ground.

Hoen's head was racing too.

At first, his speed was slow, but it increased as he got closer to his headless body.

Later, the head didn't bother pretending; it took off directly, flying more than a person's height, heading straight for the headless body.

Was he about to be resurrected?

Was the world's will instinctively fixing this bug?

But resurrection could wait, couldn't it? Just a moment, what's the rush? It wouldn't take long, even if it was done secretly.

How would he explain it now that he was being resurrected like this?

A bowl-sized scar on his neck—not the kind of internal injury you can't see.

It would scare people to death in the real world, and this is a world with real demons and monsters.

So, in such a world, what would happen to the general public if they encountered a dead person suddenly resurrecting?

A devil returning from the fire pits!

Pitchforks! Gallows! Stakes!

Having barely lived a second life, Hoen didn't want to be stabbed to death by pitchforks.

He glanced at the villagers. Luckily, he was quite far from them.

Most people's attention was either on the ground or on Jeanne and Barnett.

So far, no one had noticed the abnormality here.

Good, good.

Withdrawing his gaze from the unresponsive villagers, Hoen breathed a sigh of relief and looked ahead.

Then, the smile on his face froze.

In the grass, a slender black figure was slowly rising.

Don't come over here!

Yes, as his head rushed towards his body, his headless body was rushing towards him in a two-way rendezvous.

Without anything to rely on, the headless corpse stood up abruptly without any external force.

Its legs were together, arms open, like a large cross, wanting to embrace Hoen's head.

Hoen's vision went black.

Unless you're blind like Han Zong, anyone can see it.

No, no, there's still a chance, there must be a chance.

Arrive before anyone notices, as long as he can reach that place, resurrect and quickly hide in the grass, he can definitely...

"By Messira, look at the Gallar family."

"Holy Father, what's going on!"

Screwed.

Hoen closed his eyes in despair.

Amidst the screams, everyone's attention shifted once again, from the knight and the farm girl to the headless corpse floating in mid-air and the flying head.

No one could believe their eyes.

Resurrection from the dead—what power and miracle was this!

Time seemed to reverse, from the black mud, bright red blood separated, condensed, floated, and flew.

This blood of Hoen radiated a crystal-like luster, swirling around his upright body.

The head hovered over the severed neck, a serene peace on his face after the despair, and with a 'pop,' Hoen's head landed on the severed neck.

The successful tingling sensation took over Hoen's nerves, and the mercury-like thick suspended blood squeezed into the gap between his neck and body.

On the severed neck, dense, tentacle-like buds emerged.

They intertwined and stitched together, wriggling in the gaps of the severed neck, and hot white steam spewed from between the buds, like a white scarf around Hoen's neck.

When the white steam dissipated, a circular, thorny, dark red scar appeared on Hoen's neck.

Inside the neck, countless smaller buds continued their work, repairing Hoen's bones, blood vessels, flesh... until—

"Thump thump!"

Hoen heard his first heartbeat.

Even though he was unwilling, he still felt a surge of new joy; it was life making a vibrant call.

This feeling was like waking up after drinking too much at a New Year's party, unable to move, having diarrhea in your pants, cleaning yourself up, changing into new underwear, and lying back in bed as the New Year's bell rings.

The rough touch of linen shirt touched his skin, and the sound of rain fell on his ears, exuding the freshness of rainwater.

Hoen understood that he had resurrected.

Hoen forcibly suppressed the joy of resurrection, as he still had to face more severe tests in reality.

How to explain his resurrection?

This is an ignorant and superstitious medieval world.

Even with the holy and orthodox Church of Messira, there are still cults and sorcerers!

Say that he was actually a magician and was just joking?

That sounds like the excuse of a wizard or heretic who accidentally cast a spell.

Then turn around and run?

What a joke. He's hungry. Could he outrun the knight, whose breathing technique emphasizes endurance?

What should he do?

Countless thoughts flashed through Hoen's mind, and he rejected them one by one.

Thinking blindly like this is not the solution.

He opened his eyes a crack, deciding to see what the situation was first.

At this moment, the villagers, who had been huddled together, all gathered around.

They stood on tiptoes, widened their eyes, and stretched their thin heads forward.

These villagers had disheveled hair, pale faces, sunken cheeks, but wore inappropriate blushes, their muscles twitched from time to time, and the corners of their eyes trembled slightly.

Some were even in tears.

Standing in the front, the rain washed the fat High Priest Old Cosette's Mediterranean forehead until it shone. He stammered the same incomprehensible words repeatedly.

It was more like he was saying it to himself than to everyone else.

As for the knight Barnett and Jeanne, they had long stopped their original fight.

Knight Barnett's foot left Jeanne's chest.

His face was pale, and he stared at Hoen with suspicion and uncertainty, standing frozen as if he was frozen, ignoring Jeanne beside him.

As for Jeanne, she had already gotten up from the mud, but she didn't have the strength to stand, so she could only sit there blankly.

The small hill was silent, and no one spoke.

All the burning gazes were fixed on Hoen, even giving him a feeling of being burned.

This reaction doesn't seem right.

Not to mention that most people's gazes were more like fanaticism and hesitation than fear and anger.

Five years ago, the villagers didn't have this kind of look, this kind of expression, when they burned that drunk beggar who was passing by as a wizard.

What's going on? Why do they keep looking at his neck? Is there light on his neck or something?

Hoen didn't dare to touch it.

But the rough touch of the linen clothes and the friction between his neck reminded him that there was a raised scar on his neck.

Wait, a scar on his neck?

Hoen almost couldn't help but slap his head, how could he forget this.

In this world, there is also a church called the Church of Messira.

But unlike Earth, they simultaneously venerate three gods:

The Creator, Holy Father Bain, the Reincarnate, Holy Tree Asc, and the Savior, Holy Lord Messira.

Among them, the highest in status is Holy Father Bain, but the most revered is Messira, she is the only one who has descended and left deeds.

Although he hasn't read the Church of Messira's classic "Gospel," Hoen still knows some of Messira's deeds and legends.

One very famous story is Messira's resurrection.

In this story, the prophet Holy Lord Messira was captured by the nobles of the El Empire, and the brutal governor ordered her limbs to be chained with red-hot iron chains and her head to be cut off.

But just after Messira's head was cut off, her headless body suddenly stood up, picked up her head from the ground, and put it back on her neck.

Then the female prophet waved two red-hot iron chains, killing all the way from the execution ground to the south gate, and from the south gate to the north gate, killing until blood flowed like a river, killing all nine million sinners before escaping.

Therefore, in Messira's portraits, the holy lord always has dark chain-like patterns on her wrists and ankles, representing red-hot chains, and there is always a light red thorn pattern on her neck, representing resurrection after beheading.

Isn't this a coincidence? Isn't this a coincidence? I was also reborn after being beheaded, and I also have a dark red ring pattern on my neck.

No wonder they have such fanatical and hesitant eyes.

From the perspective of the villagers and the knight, such a resurrection is too symbolic, so they dare not distinguish whether it is the means of a devil or the descent of a miracle.

Hmm... a miracle? A miracle!

A flash of lightning illuminated Hoen's face, and although Hoen tried his best to suppress it, his breathing was still rapid and heavy.

He seemed to have thought of a way to save himself.

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