The Secret Code of Monsters.

Chapter 348: Hero
Not sure.

This doesn't matter when choosing a scarf.

But now is a matter of life and death.

Although no one present really knew what dangers there would be after avoiding the ghosts that tore their flesh and blood and following them to the riverside - but rather than trusting Roland Collins, the "beauty", they were more willing to trust the sun that was scorching and shining from beginning to end.

Goldfinch Evans.

Derek Evans.

Perhaps after today, this name will spread in the circle.

"Sir, we have to leave here, do you understand?" Someone said impatiently: "Leaving here is not just about appearance. Besides, how can we trust a blind man? Can you see your face in the mirror?"

Someone chuckled.

"...Jin Mei...Mr. Executive, you should..." The ladies couldn't help themselves: "Wouldn't it be better if we let Evans lead us? We won't talk nonsense about this, right?"

Everyone nodded.

Obviously, this is a different soft rod than Derek Evans.

Everyone knew what he was going to do—he was still too young and too unfashionable, Roland Collins.

He wanted to perform in public, and then after being rescued, he would become famous to some extent - although it was Evans who saved the people, as long as "Roland Collins" was involved, this name would always be attached to Evans, like shit on a dog's butt.

"Time for the taking, kid."

The bad-tempered ones were merciless: "This is not the bedroom of your 'old friend' or 'friend's mother', where is this? There are monsters all around! 'Golden Rosa', sir, or whatever you call it, you can't let us all die here - just for your face, your reputation?"

Roland lowered his head as he listened to each sentence, and his fingers hanging on his trouser line flicked lightly.

It's time for another person to come on stage.

"I don't think so." Randolph straightened his collar, picked up his cane and walked to Roland. "I trust my friend, and his judgment has never been wrong. Since he has a better suggestion, why can't we ask him to speak?"

"We didn't have—"

"It's worth the time, sir. The time you've wasted in the debate is enough to make you go back and forth in the bedroom four or five times, isn't it?"

Bronte subconsciously touched Beatrice's arm with her finger.

"How about it."

Beatrice: ?

The man who was insulted in return was furious. He didn't have the patience of an old man. "Okay, let's hear what your friend has to say."

So, the focus was once again focused on the shy and timid young man's face.

This time it is sharper, forcing the man to hang himself.

He turned pale with fright.

"...I, I actually, actually..." His mouth was dry and he wished his lips would crack from being burned: "Actually, I don't have any particularly good suggestions... it's just that."

just.

He paused: "It's just that I think..."

I think.

"I think something is wrong."

Sort of.

These key words are like a sledgehammer hitting a porcelain face, which will shatter into pieces in just one or two hits.

"Very good, you 'think', very good." The man who was arguing with Randolph was like a doctor who heard a cough, his face flushed, and he almost jumped up: "You, think, think. You just 'think', a guess, and let us wait in such a dangerous place..."

"You're not really going to do that?"

He opened his arms, looked around, and sneered with his upper lip: "Then who will agree?"

Randolph tapped his cane. "I agree."

"Oh, there are so many people."

Bronte led Beatrice closer to Roland.

There were four of us when we came, and there are still only four of us now.

Randolph's dignity seemed to be hit by this predicament of having no one to support him. He narrowed his narrow eyes and picked out a few familiar names from the people around him.

He called them one by one. "Bohan, Cork, Hughes."

These three people are close to the Taylor family and have had business dealings with them and get along well with them.

The three of them glanced at Evans, who was smiling but silent, and looked at the scrutinizing eyes around them, sighing silently in their hearts: They were not optimistic about the Golden Rose either, but as for what to do...

Now that he was called out by name, of course he sided with Randolph.

——Anyway, no matter who solves this problem, they can survive. But if they offend Taylor, their business will be in trouble.

Adults don't live in today.

Randolph looked at the three men leading their families over, and the corners of his mouth curled up slightly: This also made more people impatient - they wanted to leave as soon as possible, rather than watch two grown boys quarreling over dignity in such a dangerous place.

Every moment.

"Let's start, Evans." They ignored those who went to Randolph, turned around one by one, and urged Evans with their eyes or words, asking him to teach them how to get rid of the nightmare.

"It's very simple," Goldfinch raised his chin, glanced at the dejected 'Golden Rose', and smiled more gently.

He was slowly learning how to get along with these people and gaining their approval - he thought that perhaps after this time, the goldfinch of the Evans family would really be able to fly high.

"We have to give them what they want. Once the obsession of these ghosts disappears, everyone, we will be free."

"Very good, then Evans, how can we help you?"

He began to explain in detail.

These protesters wanted three things:
Suffrage, holidays, getting women and children out of the mines.

As long as they are satisfied, the obsession will disappear.

At that time, according to what he had learned, the "field" that had lost its support would inevitably no longer be stable.

They could chat, take small steps, smoke cigarettes, and leave as if they were on a picnic.

"I will be the one to open the bill, gentlemen. I need an assistant, a real person to announce the passage of the 'bill' - this person must have enough experience, at least to be able to..." He lowered his voice: "... at least to deceive the ghosts."

"But I want to tell you: this is very dangerous. Because those who are with me have to face the ghosts and communicate with them - I emphasize again, everyone, this is very dangerous."

It was the same man who had argued with Randolph before. He glanced at the stiff zombies around him and smiled: "I think these are all civilians, right?"

"Of course." Evans nodded.

"That's all right." He tapped his cane like Randolph, then turned and hugged his wife.

Then, he waved his arms fiercely in public: "Let me do it!"

Everyone looked at the hero excitedly and applauded enthusiastically but as gently as possible.

The man's invisible gaze penetrated the invisible applause.

It fell on Randolph's gloomy face.

He stepped on his face several times.

"Evans and I will take you away from this place - we don't have to 'consider', and we won't 'fail to hold'."

If there weren't ghosts all around, they would almost whistle and shout a few times.

A heroic act!

Since falling into this nightmare, they have had many heroes step up!

This is the real savior, sent by the benefactor, and it is the hope in despair!

"We may never forget you, Evans and..."

"Barent." The man looked proud, with the corners of his mouth curved downwards. "Barent."

"Yes, we will never forget the contributions made by Mr. Evans and Mr. Barent. Of course, no matter men or women, we are all in the same boat and have worked together to overcome this terrible nightmare. When I leave here, I will definitely write an article praising you all!"

“Please give me this power.”

Everyone laughed.

"Just call it: a true hero!"

Perhaps the man who was the editor took the lead in touching his chest and bowing to Evans and Barent in the highest respect.

(End of this chapter)