Only God
Chapter 335 - 292: One Must Be Saved by His Hand

Chapter 335: Chapter 292: One Must Be Saved by His Hand

Marlow had suffered many times for murder, yet he had never been able to face his own sins.

There was wind from all directions, blowing over the stacked wheat stubble in the fields, threading through the tiny gaps with bursts of chill.

Startled by the sudden wind, Marlow patted the wheat stubble, then stood up alertly to look around before letting out a heavy sigh.

"Damn it... it’s just a gust of wind..."

He muttered to himself in a low voice, trying to reassure himself.

His eyes were tired; this twenty-year-old had fled the city-states that morning, running all day until night fell and he could no longer see the road ahead. That’s when he arrived at the nearby fields to rest.

Marlow closed his eyes, urging himself to fall asleep quickly, but the cold wind made it impossible for him to find comfort in any position.

The young man raised his hands—hands that had killed. He had burst out from the shadows with a sudden lunge, his hands swung, the hammer fell, and the person was dead. After that, he’d taken the money from the body—sixteen silver coins, along with a few scattered copper coins.

Marlow suddenly remembered that he hadn’t even seen the person’s face clearly before he had delivered the killing blow.

Was it karma that the money gained from murder couldn’t save his own mother in the end? She had died without leaving any last words. Her cloudy eyes had looked at him, tears streaming down.

After his mother’s death, Marlow had lived a dazed and confused life, until one day when he was haunted by a ghost.

Suddenly, the flickering of elusive flames interrupted Marlow’s reverie.

Like a startled bird, he braced himself up quickly to look toward the source of the light.

"It’s just the farmers’ wife from here..."

Marlow barely made out the approaching figure, and immediately tensed up.

The farmers’ wife was walking over from afar, likely to inspect the wheat fields.

Marlow quickly burrowed into the wheat stubble pile. He didn’t have time to consider anything else, trembling with fear.

Squeak, squeak...

The sound, akin to that of a large rat, weaved through the nighttime wheat field.

Peering through the gaps in the wheat stubble, Marlow saw the farmers’ wife getting closer, his heart lifting, hairs standing on end.

However, the farmers’ wife didn’t approach the stubble pile. Holding a torch, she stepped into the field, and the light gradually receded.

Marlow exhaled heavily, pondering his next move, when suddenly, he noticed a small detail.

That farmers’ wife... she seemed to make no sound with her steps...

Marlow’s every hair trembled in fear.

No, maybe, maybe it’s just that she isn’t wearing shoes...

Reassuring himself, Marlow carefully pushed aside some wheat stubble, planning to spy on the farmers’ wife who had stepped into the field.

He slowly stuck his head out...

In the field, there was no sign of the farmers’ wife!

Marlow froze.

Then, something touched him from behind.

Flames... came from behind him.

Marlow’s heart jumped. He didn’t look back, but he could feel that ominous gaze.

With a scream, he bolted, frantically running off into the distance.

Marlow had no idea where he was fleeing to or whether he could shake off the ghost. He just ran blindly, desperately escaping.

The murderer was in a state of utter disarray.

He crashed through the dark night, as clouds already weighed down, the air heavy with the scent of impending rain, further narrowing his already hazy vision.

A downpour began, thunder flashing among the clouds. Marlow ran through the storm, his face drenched with rain.

The ground underfoot was muddy and treacherous. He ran wildly, his strength rapidly depleting, his feet struggling to grip the ground.

When he reached a trench, the slick earth betrayed him. He slipped, fell with a smack, tumbled into the ditch, and found he couldn’t stand due to the pain in his legs.

Marlow let out a pained howl as fear swept through his heart.

He sensed the approach of the ghost.

At this moment, Marlow, feeling utterly despondent, looked up at the sky.

The torrential rain poured as the murderer lay defeated in the gutter; suddenly, he could no longer feel fear or pain, and before his eyes, there was nothing but the sky amid the downpour.

That sky was so dark, the stars had all receded, leaving only the rain all around him. Before now, it seemed he had never been drenched by the rain like this, never gazed up at the sky in such a way.

Murder... Ghost... Fleeing... Marlow suddenly turned back, realizing that everything he had ever done was so meaningless, except for the sky right in front of him and the heavy rain truly falling on him, nothing else mattered.

The heavy rain, unexpectedly cleansing the filthy body of a murderer like me.

The flickering light of the fire, Marlow knew the ghost was coming, and he calmly waited for death.

Solamus looked down upon the murderer from her high vantage point.

Under the light of the fire, a flicker of astonishment crossed Marlow’s eyes.

The ghost in his eyes was not terrifying at all, not the slightest bit chilling; she just looked at him with a sad pity, as if scrutinizing his soul.

"Who are you?"

Marlow asked with a trembling voice.

The woman was clearly standing in the rain, yet she wasn’t wet at all.

Solamus didn’t answer him, she just gazed at him.

Marlow fell silent, feeling like a prisoner awaiting his sentence.

For a long, long time, the rain continued to fall.

"You killed someone."

The woman’s voice echoed in his ears, and Marlow’s lips trembled lightly, then he heard...

"And God is willing to forgive your sins."

Marlow stiffened, lying in the gutter, disbelievingly looking at the woman.

Have I ever performed such good deeds?

Which deity would be willing to just forgive my sins...

Solamus looked at the man,

"As long as you go back, face your heart, face your crimes."

Marlow was chilled to the bone, and he shivered.

"Why should I... go back..."

His voice quivered with the question.

The woman uttered a sentence calmly, her serene face as if conveying a timeless universal truth,

"Because,

from His hand comes salvation,

because,

the Law of God has long triumphed over your own thoughts."

When morning came, the pale light of dawn broke across the sky, and Marlow, who had lain in the gutter all night, groggily got to his feet.

After the heavy rain, he saw the vast sky was left with nothing but tranquil serenity.

Marlow rubbed his head, unsure whether what happened last night was real or just an illusion.

He slowly walked out of the farmland, his lips trembling from the cold, he hunched over, recalling those two sentences.

That day.

A twenty-year-old murderer returned to the city-states and surrendered himself before the judge, confessing his crime of that day.

And the miraculous encounter in the great rain, along with Marlow’s surrender and testimony, spread throughout the city-states, not a soul there that wasn’t astonished.