The Secret Code of Monsters.

Chapter 388: Blindness and Exorcism

Fork County is an extremely remote and underdeveloped county.

The people here cannot be said to be simple, but ignorant.

But sometimes ignorance and simplicity are alike: at least with great men—men of these characters, who have a certain amount of gold in them, and whose lives are worth perhaps a hundred pounds.

But it only sells for ten shillings.

So, no one dislikes such traits.

That's wonderful, ladies and gentlemen.

Who can refuse a good and cheap product? If you don’t buy it, you will be punished by the Father of All Creation.

Two days later.

Director Miguel invited the 'priest'.

He said it was a vicar of the All-Father, who had come from London, on foot, for religion or something—anyway, he was the real deal.

The pastor was a bit old, had a rumbling voice and didn't like to laugh.

The director introduced him to James Jones, and the three of them went out to the yard, called Roland out, and took him to the office together.

"The director is very kind to Yam."

Little Roland thought on the way.

He is a good husband.

They went to an empty office and asked Roland to sit on a chair while the old pastor looked at him carefully.

His eyes, nostrils, tongue and teeth, neck and wrists, fingernails and toenails.

He was splashed with wet water on his head, just like Yam said, not uncomfortable - then soft leaves and branches swept over his ankles and soles, listening to the old man muttering something like "the evil spirits leave"...

Does this really work?
If the man in silver armor leaves, will I be able to see him?

My eyes should be better now.

He sat in a chair, clasping his hands and thinking.

But the situation changed in the next second and the next minute.

Little Roland heard the old priest yelling, spitting like rain: "Evil spirits! There are too many evil spirits! They are gathering! Gathering, preparing to harm people--"

The old pastor was extremely terrified, or at least from the sound of his voice, he was extremely terrified.

He almost fell, but Director Miguel saw the situation and ran over to support him.

This prevented the devout believer in the Father of All from breaking his devout and steadfast back.

"…Evil, evil, huge evil…How could such a vicious and terrifying evil be kept in an orphanage!"

His voice was no longer gentle, as if he had changed from a kind-hearted old fisherman to a vicious and hateful old fisherman - or maybe he had always been a fisherman, but Roland had changed from a human to a fish.

He heard the old priest and Yam arguing, a few sentences, a few words, and then Yam begged Miguel, asking him to beg him to save her child.

"That's not your child, Yam."

Director Miguel was calm.

"That's not your child. It's not worth going through so much trouble for."

The man hugged Yam, stroked her increasingly rough skin, and lamented: "Don't think of asking me to pay, Yam Jones. You know our relationship. I can't pay a lot of money to exorcise the evil spirits of this bastard who is 'not your own'."

Our relationship?
what relationship?
Aren't they husband and wife?

Little Roland was not too frightened at this moment, he just felt that what Director Miguel said was a little strange.

"...Of course, of course! You have already stopped the rumors for me and Roland, so how can I let you spend money?" Yam said hurriedly. When the old pastor went to another room to rest, he whispered, "I have some savings. I will use mine to exorcise the evil spirit for this child..."

"Where did you get the savings?" Miguel was curious.

This is the workhouse.

If you really have a lot of money, or some bank notes deposit, you shouldn't come here - at least, wouldn't it be better to spend a few more decent days outside?

"I…"

Yam moved his lips and his eyes stayed on Roland's confused little face for a long time.

I sighed in my heart. Maybe fate asked me to keep those things just to save you at this moment.

"…My husband, before my husband died, he hid something."

Yam humbly spoke.

"That's against the rules and it's not legal." Miguel immediately understood what this meant - according to the law, after Mr. Jones's death, his property will be inherited by his parents, brothers, and relatives.

The few real estates are considered by the heirs, who will give a small portion to his wife (if he is kind enough... and stupid enough).
But Mr. Jones died with nothing.

and so.

James Jones lied and concealed his wealth.

This is illegal.

"I know! I know this is illegal, but I beg you, please save him..."

Miguel was silent for a long time.

Seeing the woman begging pitifully, he relaxed a little.

"Go and get them out, and I'll get rid of them." He then asked, "Why don't you sell it?"

James Jones said that the property was not money, but two manuscripts of poetry from a hundred years ago - there was no market for this in Falkland County, and if sold to those who collected dirty goods, they would only be worth a few shillings.

Not many of them can read.

Except London.

Go to places where there are many great people, go to places where there is a lot of art.

That's the only way to sell it at a good price.

But the money in James Jones's hands was not enough for him and Roland to take a 'safe' carriage to London without worries, settle down successfully, and find a reputable buyer before starving to death, being robbed and killed.

There are too many difficulties in this sentence.

Moreover, she didn't know whether the two poetry collections were worth a lot of money.

If it was just a few pounds, then choosing to go to London would be like embarking on a journey of no return.

"You're smarter than I thought."

Miguel groaned. "I'll send two people to go with you, quickly. I don't know where you hid the manuscript, but get it out to me as soon as possible - and don't tell anyone, understand?"

James Jones nodded repeatedly.

"Yes sir, yes! I will never tell anyone..."

That night, Yam put on her cloak and went to the other side of the county. She hid the only wooden box left, which was wrapped and sealed with layers of oil paper, silk cloth and beeswax, under several trees in the suburbs.

She originally thought that if she saved enough money one day, she would take out the box and take Roland to London.

If the poetry collection can make money, they can live a better life: rent a bigger house, eat and dress better.

The poetry collection was worthless, just a piece of junk, but the money she had was enough to last until she found a job and took care of Roland - by then, Roland would have grown up and would be able to do some work and earn some money.

Their lives will definitely be better than they are now.

As long as we can hold on for a few years, until Roland grows up...

'But that's fine. '

Yam thought.

If this collection of poems could help Roland get rid of the evil spirit, she would have no more worries in the future - to be fair, her child was no worse than anyone else, and was even much smarter.

"Right there."

Two hours later, they arrived at the place where the box was buried.

It was a neglected cemetery.

Miguel's two men took out the shovels they had prepared long ago.

Under the moonlight, Yam Jones clasped his hands together and lowered his eyes to pray.

May you bless my Roland...

(End of this chapter)