The Secret Code of Monsters.

Chapter 375 Ch.374 Someone You Shouldn’t Be Familiar With
Bang.

A body lay in the bloody mud.

With the laughter, the elusive 'Frost Ghost' disappeared again.

"She...she, she's dead..."

The white blade pierced through the top of the skull.

An unfired gun lay on the floor.

The only two living people left in the room lit candles and held them, like ignorant people lighting torches for the first time, looking out into the unknown dark wilderness: at the banquet of blood and bones, among the maggots and rotten flesh, fear was singing.

A feeling of despair grew silently between the two of them.

Breathe.

silence.

Candlelight flickers.

"I can't die..."

said a woman.

She killed so many people, and she finally used everything she had to gain the power of immortality...

She must not die here.

suddenly.

A flash of white appeared in the round mirror.

The woman subconsciously waved the candle, picked up the candlestick with her other hand, and threw it towards the round mirror not far away!

Click.

The mirror was broken.

The shadow also broke and dissipated along with the crack.

“Close your eyes…close your eyes…! I know…I know…I figured it out…!”

She was gasping for breath like a hyena that had failed in its hunt, hunched over, with her eyes closed, and wading barefoot in the bloody mud.

She wants the gun.

"That thing...that thing may...only...through the mirror and the eyes..."

She muttered to herself that the answer to the mystery gave her some strength and allowed her to see hope of life again.

She ate people.

She has long been extraordinary.

She was not afraid of the monster.

she…

She has a gun...

The woman who closed her eyes and bent forward did not feel the warm metal handle of the gun.

It's a frosted blade.

At this moment, the woman curled up in the corner covered her mouth, watching the 'blood lake' reflected on the floor in the candlelight change color little by little - the thing slowly stood up from the reflection and handed the blade in its hand to the woman with her eyes closed and hand out.

She slowly raised her head and glanced at her.

Waved.

A fresh head fell to the ground.

Scarlet blood gushed out from the fracture like a fountain, and like squeezing a full bladder of urine, the red liquid flowed straight to the ceiling, exploding into an irregular artistic flower on the peeling and yellowed skin.

thump.

The headless corpse staggered and fell onto another corpse.

"No…you can't hurt me…you can't!"

"I...I believe...I believe in the Father of All! I am a devout believer...You can't touch me--!!"

The cultists waved candles that had long been extinguished.

A futile effort.

The spirit just tilted its head, and the next moment - before the knock on the door sounded, she shattered into countless tiny particles and disappeared in front of the trembling woman.

knock knock.

There's someone outside the door.

knock knock.

Knock very lightly.

police?

still…

Neighbors who heard the noise?
Who is... outside the door?

The woman was trembling, and she no longer had the courage to pour boiling water down her throat.

She had sisters, church members, and her accomplice who was full of evil intentions, but now, when facing an impossible monster, the things she relied on could not bring her any help.

Maybe she just dipped her toes in the water...

But he thought he had conquered the ocean.

She started sobbing.

Whoever was at the door, she was screwed.

Completely concluded...

No, that's not right.

'I still have a chance...'

The monster seemed to have disappeared.

The woman held onto the wall, her legs like two flags in the wind. She stood and stood, and finally, she simply lay on the ground, crawled into the blood, to the body, opened the headless flesh, and dug out the single-shot pistol inside.

With it.

She can still live.

Click.

The long, thick bullet was loaded into the chamber.

If it was a policeman... as soon as he broke into the house, I would shoot him to death. If it was two people, I would find an opportunity to kill one first, and then smash the other to death with a candlestick...

She planned in her mind, rehearsing how she would escape, flee to Miss Madeline, inform her, inform...

Maybe she could just run away?

She was fantasizing, but heard a 'crunch' sound.

The door was wrenched open.

A dim ball swayed, creaked, and was lifted up.

Someone was stepping on the creaking boards.

They are leather shoes.

He entered the house.

Across the hall.

Stepping into the sticky flesh.

The woman hid the gun behind her back and looked up: the man holding the lantern was a man.

He wore a top hat and a black cloak over a thick windbreaker.

He has eyes the same color as the lights...

"Good night, Ms. Fiennes."

He said.

…………

……

thump.

Rebecca Fiennes' gun hit the floor.

Roland Collins.

A face she could never forget.

"Goodnight."

Holding the lamp, he tiptoed through the meat paste, stepped over corpses and bones, found a relatively clean chair next to the wooden bed, wiped it with the quilt on the bed, and sat down.

Put the lantern casually on the table.

"Good night." He crossed his legs: "We shouldn't meet here, right?"

Rebecca Fiennes opened her mouth, but her throat was constricted and no sound came out.

It was an extremely strange emotion, and only she knew why.

"Your father was an executive officer after all. No matter what happened in his life, he fought against evil until the very end." Roland tapped his knees and stared at the woman whose face kept changing. She was even more beautiful and gorgeous than when she was in Bristol.

A little more dangerous.

She may have developed a distinctive set of fangs and an insatiable stomach.

"It's a pity that you joined a cult."

regret?

At this moment, Rebecca Fiennes could not bear to hear any regrets.

Perhaps it was an acquaintance, or perhaps she knew Roland's "weakness". She became hysterical as if a string had broken, screaming and roaring: "Who is this all because of?!"

"It's all because of whom?!"

She was finally able to stand up straight.

The nails seemed to become sharp and short, thick hairs grew on the backs of the hands.

"If it wasn't you! If, if it wasn't that bitch beside you! Collins, ha! Honest executive, if it wasn't for you, I would have gotten more than just a coin, right?!"

"If I had enough money, I wouldn't be tempted to become a sword for these monsters!"

"It's all your fault! You lied to me! You cheated on me!"

"I shouldn't have that little money!"

"I lost my father!"

She didn't dare to get closer, but began to verbally insult the man in front of her and the scheming gray-haired girl.

"But you lied to me..."

If it weren't for them, she would have lived a comfortable and prosperous life, found a man to live with, and maybe even had a child - it was all because of that vicious woman that she became what she is today.

thump.

The tip of her leather shoe hit the floor with a dull thud, interrupting her madness.

"Ms. Fiennes."

Roland stroked his two deerskin gloves and said slowly: "If I remember correctly, you should have taken thirty pounds of compensation - for your father's death, I think the Inquisition has already compensated you, right?"

His voice was very soft, but it sounded like thunder in Fiennes' ears.

"At Bristol station, on platform two, someone stopped you and gave you a bag of sovereigns."

“I remember that number very clearly.”

Roland leaned forward, holding his chin, half of his face shrouded in shadow: "Thirty pounds, right?"

His certainty silenced Rebecca.

"I admit that Shandel does have some strange little quirks. But Mr. Ram Fiennes sacrificed himself for Bristol to some extent - then, his daughter should be compensated."

"It seems that he successfully intercepted you and gave you the compensation, right?"

Still silent.

Rebecca grabbed her thin nightgown.

At this moment, she seemed to have been verbally peeled off by the man sitting opposite her.

A real skin.

"That person at the station...was he...sent by you?"

She couldn't saliva and her speech was stuttering.

It was as if an executioner had cut off her tongue.

Roland twitched his lips, and the boiling gold in his eyes gradually cooled down:
"…You know, Miss Fiennes, a life in the workhouse is worth five pence, and if you're pretty enough, or strong enough, you might get three shillings—I mean, if the trustees don't accept gifts."

"Thirty pounds... ma'am."

Roland rubbed the gloves slowly and carefully, the rustling sound was no less than the laughter of the Frost Ghost just now.

They are also life-threatening.

Rebecca's drooped eyeballs suddenly rolled twice, and when she looked up again, she suddenly wailed loudly.

She's good at it.

It is so sad and tragic that it makes people feel uncomfortable just listening to it.

At this moment, she knew how to survive...

Maybe this is the last chance.

"I'm sorry... I'm sorry sir...! I lied to you..." She wiped the tears and blood together, strands of hair stuck to her face, her shoulders hunched, looking pitiful: "I'm just, I'm just too scared, afraid that you think I'm the same as them..."

She lifted her nightgown, revealing a large area of ​​skin.

"I...I was actually...abducted..."

Crying, she moved along the wall to the clothes-hanging pole and took the scarf from a branch.

The red scarf was wrapped around her neck twice.

"Look . . . look!"

"I just got here... I was just tied up by these black-hearted, cunning, and cold-hearted women. Look! There's my scarf here. I just took off my clothes - look at my wrists, are there any wounds?!"

"Mr. Collins! You are a kind man. You must not make a wrong judgment. I did nothing..."

"I should have lived a good life, but now I have to work in a factory!"

"But, but these bitches, robbers, and scumbags stopped me in the alley and kidnapped me..."

Roland watched her performance quietly.

Look at her crying and tucking in her 'scarf'.

It was a bloody piece of intestine with corn kernels inside.

(End of this chapter)