Chapter 25

Next came the whipping. As the whip struck James' body, vivid red welts bloomed across his skin. It was made even more striking by the rain. Blood streamed from beneath his white shirt, pooling on the ground. The rain poured harder and harder. Floating nearby, Naomi watched each whip strike, every strike leaving behind a line of blood. Her heart began to waver. She paced in agitation, circling back and forth in midair. The priest, sensing something shifting, hurriedly ordered a large candle to be brought forward. He inserted several thick chunks of frankincense into the burner and lit them. However, the rain extinguished them almost instantly. Frantic, he changed them out and shielded the new ones with an umbrella, carefully lighting them again. This time, the moment the flames caught, the smoke billowed out, thick and swirling. It drifted toward the floating Naomi, slipping into her nostrils. To her, it had no color and no scent, but it made her feel drowsy. And then came the