My Substitute CEO Bride

Chapter 615
Someone had appeared at the entrance. They were dressed in black and were wearing a smiling mask. A chill permeated the
entire hall.
Sensing the coldness, the priests stopped their activities.
“Why stop? Continue chanting!” The bishop casually picked up another string of prayer beads.
He had long foreseen a calamity coming to Purple Church, caus Lindt. This was also why he spared him of his punishment.
Mortimer was the only martial priest in the church and the guardian of Purple Church. He slowly stood up. He was the last line of
defense. If even he could not withstand the threat, then the 30-plus priests would stand no chance of surviving.
The other priests continued chanting anxiously.
“Who are you?” Mortimer asked, voice low.
The masked person chuckled ominously. “Don’t you recognize me?”
They then threw a blood-red dagger.
Mortimer dodged the dagger, but the masked person was already in front of him. A fist struck Mortimer squarely in the chest. He
flew backward, crashing into the statue with a muffled impact before falling in front of the bishop.
The bishop remained unflinching as he continued to chant cryptic and incomprehensible scriptures.
Mortimer spat out a mouthful of blood before grabbing the bishop’s hand. He struggled to speak but managed to say, “Bishop,
leave quickly...”
The bishop smiled bitterly. Leave? Was that even possible?
About five minutes later, the masked person exited the church. Behind him, the church was already engulfed in fierce flames.
Nash looked at the road signs, feeling a headache form. The mountainous terrain was complex with several forks in the road.
ahead. Some bastard had torn off the road signs. It seemed like he had taken the wrong path and had to turn back.
Sighing, Nash turned around and vanished into the night.

After three minutes, he returned to the main road and saw panicking tourists running out of the scenic area. Nash grabbed one of
them and asked, “Which direction is Purple Church?”
“We were heading to Purple Church, but something happened there,” the breathless man replied.
Nash’s eyes narrowed. “What happened?”
The man pointed in a direction and said, “Look, it’s on fire...”
Nash followed the man’s finger and saw half of the sky dyed red.
“Sir, you’d better not go. I heard there’s a masked killer about,” the man turned back to him and continued. However, Nash had
disappeared.
The man looked around and shivered before scrambling his way out.
Nash took advantage of the darkness and moved at the fastest speed he could manage along the road. Pedestrians on the road
could not see Nash’s figure clearly, only feeling a gust of wind passing by.
Three minutes later, Nash arrived outside Purple Church. He rushed in despite the large flames, using his true energy to isolate
them. There were more than 30 priests lying lifeless at the feet of the statue.
One priest, who appeared slightly stronger than the rest, was lying in the arms of the statue. His eyes were wide open in death.
The bishop sitting under the statue was on fire. His head was hung low as blood flowed continuously from his chest.
A beam, accompanied by tiles, fell down, engulfing the bishop.
After confirming there were no survivors, Nash reluctantly left the church. About ten minutes later, fire trucks and patrol cars
arrived
The person in charge of the scenic area, along with numerous staff, rushed to put out the fire.
A middle-aged inspector approached him and asked, “Did you report the incident?”
Nash shook his head. “No.”
The inspector noticed Nash’s calm demeanor and frowned. “You’re not a tourist, are you?”