The Secret Code of Monsters.

Chapter 385: Snakes and Spiders
At the stroke of midnight, the sound was a door.

Unlock the heart of a binge drinker.

The tongue is a door when the unknown is skipped.

Open the hearts of those with evil thoughts.

Young girls with charming smiles play hide-and-seek with the sun all their lives, so their pale skin is pampered by lush hair and rotten teeth.

Her door naturally has a lock, and her lock naturally has many keys.

Just like what Roland saw now.

Just like what a terminally ill patient sees.

Everywhere is filled with things that are hard to believe but have to be believed. These scenes will destroy the sanity of a rational person, the logic of a logical person - or, add to the happiness of a dreamer.

There are doors everywhere.

Everywhere.

The shapes vary, twisted or straight and shriveled, slender or short and fat.

Made of flesh and blood, of metal or gemstone, of sound or words, of thoughts and memories.

Under this dark lake, he actually felt as dry, itchy and painful as in the desert, and in the eyes of the savages in the dense forest who did not communicate with words, he was regarded as a coincidence after the thunder and fire.

He was regarded as a bonfire by the crowd. They surrounded him, danced, sang and shouted around him.

If you beg: 'Please let me go.'

Well, there are millions of teeth hidden behind the door, and each of these teeth has millions of bloodthirsty owners.

If you shout: 'Let me dance! '

Then, you are the friend of thousands of doors, the master of madness that does not need to be resolved, of wounds and of coming and going.

He saw a door.

Behind the translucent door is the Black Sea with rolling white waves.

A huge ship, perhaps the biggest he had ever seen in his life.

The boat is breaking the waves.

Break through the waves made of beetles.

The gray-haired girl, with her hands clasped on her chest, floats in the tide of beetles, peaceful and silent.

Beetles crawled all over her, sucking her skin and blood.

Who is that?

The door twisted away from his view, and was squeezed away by another.

'Look at me!'

Another fan said.

Its belly was empty, filled with layers of white-faced women covered in powder and make-up. Roland watched her dressing in front of the mirror, and was slapped to the carpet by the man who broke in and stomped on her head.

She shed tears of blood, which formed two grooves on the pink road.

Her skirt was torn off and her wrists were tied.

she…

Suddenly he looked ferociously at the onlookers outside the door.

'Why didn't you save me?!'

Roland took a half step back.

Soon, this door was also squeezed out.

A plain gray brick door popped open.

'Wait for me, little Roland.'

'I'll keep you safe...'

The woman with her hair in a bun lowered her eyes and gently caressed the sleeping boy, leaning over and kissing him on the forehead again and again. Then, she quietly stood up, wrapped herself tightly in the blanket, and walked into the night.

'Look at me! Look at me again!'

The doors popped out one after another, causing Roland more and more pain.

He howled like a dying deer in a trap.

But that pain was mixed with a hint of wonder, like a big child who had been sleeping for many years walking into a bush of skirts and getting what he wanted after a hearty whimper. The instinctive exhalation blew away the petals floating on the table of his heart, revealing the original true color.

hiss…

A sobbing man, no, now it's a boy.

He had short legs and arms, and he curled up and raised his head: the huge python only barely showed its head in the shadows.

Between its scales, some multi-legged spiders were crawling around with a "clacking" sound.

'You suit me.'

The giant snake tore open its abdominal cavity, opening a narrow door leading to dust and indifference.

'Come in…'

Its long cry tickled Roland's ears and penetrated into his brain.

'Come in...'

'Prisoner of the mind.'

The voice manipulated the out-of-focus teenager, or even younger.

He wiped his nose and tears, got up from the ground, took off his loose shirt and pants, and his leather shoes that were much larger than before, and tiptoed into the snake's belly - just like when he was an explorer as a child, stroking the cold scales, and asking the spider in the cracks between the scales to lift one of its legs to show him the way.

Thus he advanced, into the white night.

Fall asleep.

The little boy didn't know the way.

He was familiar with this place, but he had never left the high walls - perhaps he had left when he was born, when he was born from the tree, and when he was chosen by Yam.

But since I could remember it, it's gone.

It's a dangerous world out there.

So, he was a little scared... and excited.

'For you, the pioneer.'

The sour sound of metal friction and the low hum in the jar are so close.

The boy was startled.

His messy black hair has its own ideas, just like a bird couple who are not getting along in life and have to fight in the nest. The hair is the masterpiece of the mother bird and the male bird.

Hopefully their kids enjoy tidying up their rooms.

The boy wiped his forehead and brushed away the fallen hair. His golden eyes turned around in the frame without focus and asked in a low voice:

"Who's there?"

crunch...

Metal looked up.

Little Roland thought silently: He probably raised his head.

'Your knight.'

He said.

Sure enough, my knight is protecting me.

Just like a story.

"Do you know the way back?"

A few breaths of silence.

Just as little Roland was becoming more and more anxious, he heard the muffled voice:

'For you, the pioneer.'

He said.

The cold and hard hand armor was stretched out in front of little Roland, waiting for him to test it like a mouse, sniffing with his hand, but he was not impatient, just stretched it down, waiting for him to be completely at ease and willing to put his hand in.

Then, he held it gently as if afraid of breaking it.

'For you, the pioneer.'

He stood up, so little Roland had to hold his hands high to hold him back.

"You'll take me home, won't you?"

'For you, the pioneer.'

"You should have said something else, like, 'I am your invincible knight! I will always be loyal to my master!'"

"How about it?"

After walking for a while, the boy's nature began to show.

"Do you have a sword? A beautiful, sharp sword, the kind that Yam said, a sword that no one can defeat when you wield it."

'For you, the pioneer.'

However, the tin can only say this.

The boy was a little disappointed.

"Have you got a warhorse?"

"How tall are you?"

"Can you break down the wall?"

"Is the armor heavy?"

Young Roland was very happy: "Look, I asked for a knight to protect me, and I got one. You, can you protect Yam with me?"

The Silver Knight was silent.

But his master was used to it, and he continued to talk happily, "Where are you from? You knew I needed you, so you came, right?"

'For you, the pioneer.'

He took the boy's hand and walked back to their home step by step.

A yard that looks nice, but smells worse the further you walk into it.

Castrated soil cannot produce wild beasts that dare to charge forward.

The people here are very docile.

Hunched over or leaning against the wall, everyone looked like winter flowers that had been exposed to the sun for several years, listless and depressed, yet helpless against the eternally blazing fireball above their heads.

They hated it as if it were the murderer of their father, but they dared not go wild when it was burning.

They just whispered in the dark night that they should not be exposed to the sun tomorrow, or that they should close their eyes for a while - by saying this, they were also telling themselves that they should not go against the bright and glorious fireball.

'That is its fate.'

Just like we have our own destiny.

The armor stopped.

'For you, the pioneer.'

They arrived.

Because little Roland heard an annoying voice.

"Hey, what are you carrying?" The woman, carrying the incongruous and inferior goods, twisted her steps and looked at the boy's raised hand - there was nothing on the other end of his hand.

Oh, maybe there is, but she can't see it.

right?

"knight."

Little Roland said.

"My knights, you can no longer bully Yam and me."

The two people's conversation was not quiet, and the woman showed a hint of malice:
"Oh, listen, listen, this blind fellow says he has a knight!"

The young boy sensed a hint of danger in the laughter.

(End of this chapter)