The Secret Code of Monsters.

Chapter 369: Second Fight
Peter Heller was an old gentleman.

He has short black hair, a thin beard, and his hair blends into his temples.

He looked very capable, and his tough face was definitely popular nowadays - plus he was dressed relatively cleanly among the executives (compared to Crow, who was spotless), and his gestures gave him a convincing temperament...

He is what Roland imagined a true executive to be.

Smart but not rigid, strong but not bulky, humorous but not frivolous.

Second only to Fernandez.

Oh, Fernandez is the best of course.

Because he is his friend, friend and captain.

"How's Devinson? I've been really busy lately." Peter Heller had his own office, and like Fernandez, he led a small team: but Roland only met one person.

Young people who are like children.

York.

"He's recovering well. He'll be discharged from the hospital soon." Roland sat on the sofa.

Opposite him is the crow.

across a table.

"It's not easy for you to survive that disaster. Collins, you, Devinson, and Kratov represent the future of the Inquisition - always prioritize protecting yourself." He said the same thing as Enid, although for different purposes.

The man has a pair of light blue eyes.

The light blue, like the thin sky, does not become turbid with age.

It looks crystal clear.

"While you were being hypocritical and polite, I'm afraid the cultists have taken advantage of a few more people." Crow picked his nails and said sinisterly, "Give up on this step, both of you. This is a step that none of you are very good at."

Peter looked at Roland, his eyes revealing a familiar helplessness.

Since he has a good relationship with Fernandez, he must have had a lot of dealings with the Crows.

The courtroom was not large.

"I'm the Assassin," Peter introduced himself. "Fourth ring: Assassin."

Roland had heard of this road.

From The Seventh Crown God: Hand of Dispute, Shadow Net.

The "Iron Cavalry" that started the war, the "Assassin" that manipulated the shadows.

Masculine and feminine, they have one less than the Holy Cross.

"I heard that most of these roads come from the Military Intelligence Bureau?" Roland asked.

"Yes, or the army." Peter smiled with two deep wrinkles on his face. After York poured tea for the two of them, he ordered him to take out a hand-rolled cigarette from the wooden box and light it up: "The Tribunal only provides up to the fourth ring..."

"But for people like us, it's enough, isn't it?"

Maybe someone's dream is to become a millionaire.

But that's not reality, it's fantasy.

The real reality is: find a good husband or a good wife and you can earn dozens of pounds a year, or if you are more arrogant, hundreds of pounds.

Can afford to hire a cleaning maid, or buy a few more workers.

Have your own house, even if it is a little out of the way.

Give birth to a pair of healthy children, and the wife will not die during the delivery.

Don't have any accidents while working, such as breaking a leg or losing an arm.

Can live to old age.

This is the real wish.

"Putting aside unrealistic fantasies, most ritualists aim for the third or fourth ring." Heller took a puff of his cigarette and told the 'truth' or real 'ideal' of most ritualists: "Not so low, not so high - not too dangerous, just enough to gain some knowledge."

"Once we leave the front lines, there will be plenty of people willing to pay for knowledge or curiosity - we can live a solid and prosperous life."

Because if we go any higher, the danger we face will be more than just a little bit.

“…The higher you go, the more scars you’ll see.”

No one wants to become crazy.

"I am the fourth ring: assassin."

This road is very aggressive, yes, it can definitely be described as 'aggressive'.

A first-level "linguist" can identify lies to a certain extent, and can also mislead some fools with underdeveloped brains through words - if the user is smart enough, this is enough to cause a certain degree of chaos.

The second ring of "tailoring" will make the ritualist stronger: especially the hands, which become more sensitive, far beyond the sensitivity of ordinary people.

They can also temporarily sew living things together.

At the third level, “Hand Shadow Master”, the ritualist can use light to project shadows and manipulate the entities condensed from the shadows.

The fourth ring.

This is the circle that Peter Heller is in: the assassin.

If he wishes, he can greatly reduce the traces he leaves behind, while at the same time significantly improving his sensory acuity and observation and analysis abilities.

Possessing super-fast speed, it can launch a surprise attack in an instant.

It blends perfectly into the night.

This is very consistent with the name of the fourth ring: Assassin. An assassin who kills without leaving any trace.

Born murderer.

"But I still chose the Inquisition." Old Peter smiled and held a cigarette between his lips. "Miss Judia opened the way for me to trade, and I am grateful to her. At the same time, she also helped my family..."

although.

The result is still regrettable.

"Miss Jutia."

The crow repeated, in a strange tone: "Then you too may be called a young man, Peter, and that is as flattering a title as your friend the Devinsons."

Peter raised his eyebrows: "Don't speak ill of Miss Judia in front of me, Crow. Really, I know why you do that, but it has nothing to do with Miss Judia - why don't you talk to the previous presiding judge?"

Crow said in a deep voice: "Let's go... to hell to talk?"

Hele nodded sincerely: "You have nowhere else to go."

"We. Have. The. Same. Destination, Peter." Crow said slowly.

His long windbreaker wrapped around him, just like his name as he stood on the sofa.

He suddenly turned his gaze to York, who was eavesdropping with his ears perked up.

"You too."

"Don't scare my apprentice." Peter shook the hand holding the cigarette. "Collins and I will lead the team and gather people to find those shady rats. The rest is up to you. Is that ok?"

The crow bargained, speaking words Roland couldn't understand: "Every soul that successfully crosses the stairs is not cheap."

Peter frowned: "The Inquisition will pay for it."

"You'd better tell Enid Jutia about this promise." Crow raised his hand and looked at Roland: "Oh, by the way, what role can you play in this? This...handsome gentleman."

Roland blinked and looked a little innocent: "Lady Enid asked me to keep an eye on you."

York & Peter: Grunt.

crow:……

"The Inquisition is very clear about this. They are grouping the same people together... right, Peter?"

Peter Heller rubbed his sore face and said, "…Collins is right. Someone has to take charge of the overall situation."

"Him?" Crow smiled wryly: "You, really?"

Roland shook his head. "Lady Enid only asked me to keep an eye on you. She said that you always like to take advantage and steal materials from the Inquisition and bring them home... No, no, it wasn't me who said that. It was Lady Enid."

York & Peter: Grunt.

For the first time, the master and disciple had some fun in the courtroom.

It’s so interesting that this young man dared to speak to the crow like this.

However, the man in black robe on the sofa kept his mouth tightly shut.

He watched Roland quietly, his five blackened fingers tapping on the armrest one by one, making sounds and leaving deep scratches on the leather.

Da da da…

"You are not afraid of being insulted, are you, Collins?"

"I am used to it."

"But you won't allow people to insult your family?"

"My uncle, to be exact."

"Your uncle is a loser. I curse him to be found by the cultists tomorrow—"

Before he could finish his words, the table was kicked up.

A loud bang!
The candlesticks, teacups and smoking utensils on the table were scattered all over the floor. Amid the boy York's screams, the rolling table top smashed onto the man in a black robe on the sofa!
He raised his forearm, and just as he was about to use his scimitar to split the table…

A dagger came from the other side and pierced through the table.

It was just close to his eyeballs and embedded in the sofa cushion next to his face.

呲——

The dagger twisted.

The desktop broke with a sound.

The sharp scimitar behind him was revealed - the scimitar was upright and pointed directly at Roland's chin, trying to split his head in two from the chin.

The dagger was pointed horizontally at the crow's neck, and he could cut off his head with a single pull of his hand.

"Happy New Year, Mr. Crow." Roland flicked the blade with the fingers of his other hand - his hand was right next to the blade, and at the cost of a few fingers, it was not difficult to deflect the deadly blade.

"Not yet." The crow moved his head: "The table is not mine, let me pay for it."

Peter rubbed his chin and smiled, "I was just about to change to a better brand. Consider this my gift..."

"Happy New Year, my two executive officers."

York breathed a sigh of relief.

He was terrified.

Are both of these gentlemen crazy?

Just bought this table yesterday!!

(End of this chapter)