The Secret Code of Monsters.

Chapter 724 Ch.723 Florian Westwick (Canada)
Roland was quite surprised.

I remember the last time I saw a mortal dare to disrespect the ritualist...

still…
-
It seems to be me.

"These drunks don't care."

Roland glanced at the man who clenched his fists, thinking.

As the green-robed men approached, the mumblings circled around them as they crossed the empty 'ring' in the center.

"You are not welcome here..."

"You'll never have fun here..."

"ungrateful…"

The gray-haired man in the lead had a smile on his face.

He looked very gentle. Whether it was the two dull eyebrows, the narrow brown eyes or the vertical beam that divided the left and right sides, all the parts of his face seemed to be constantly sending a message to the people around him:
I am as gentle as nature.

But he couldn't fool the locals, or those who knew them...

Nature is not gentle either.

Jerez almost crushed his fist.

He slowly stood up, faced the four men in green robes, and smoothed back his messy hair.

“You should have ears.”

The gray-haired man just smiled faintly, tilted his chin at an unnoticeable angle, and whispered to the person behind him:

"As I see it, as I say it. A mortal, an executor, a barbarian without manners... a mistake among creatures permitted by the goddess."

You can hear a pin drop in the pub.

Fernandez and Blade sat comfortably on the chairs, one holding a cigarette, the other holding two glasses of beer that were not yet finished, with a row of tequila in front of them. Roland thought about it and decided that the most powerful one would appear last, so, would it be his turn?
"Roland Collins, the Inquisition's Executor."

He tapped the table and stood up, pressing his cane.

"Oh, of course, I saw it from a distance," the gray-haired man bowed slightly, "The Great Whirlpool, the Nature Walker of Cornwall, the Fang Priest, Florian Westwick."

Bang!
A beam of white fire exploded in Roland's eyes.

But no wrench reminder required.

As long as he can remember, it will be difficult for him to forget this name:
Paroyemed.

And the family that founded it:
Westwick.

The most famous, or the only famous, person with this surname is the one who walks in the sleeping world——

Sean Westwick.

Giant bear noble.

The waiter of the goddess Eve...

Existence beyond the immortals.

"May the Benefactor and Eve bless our future, Nature Walker, and the answer of grace." Roland bowed slightly and took the lead in expressing his goodwill.

Although he knew that the visitor had ill intentions.

Therefore, he put the benefactor before Eve, it would be a waste not to do so.

as predicted.

The other party was not as friendly as the nature walker he met in Porti.

"I actually met a Burner who is willing to study, Goddess."

He was gentle and elegant, with the tone of his voice, the tilted or straight jaw, the look in his eyes, the movements of his upper limbs - he looked like a true aristocrat when facing him, and his arrogance was as evident as the mother's presence of a plump woman in a skinny nightgown.

Roland has seen too much.

He is more standard than Mince-Chloe and a little more indulgent than Benevento.

"I heard that your 'brothers and sisters' are here, Jerez. That's great, that's great. It reminds me of the children in the workhouse - the touching stories of them calling each other brothers are always passed on by the shoe shiner and bartender..."

“Maybe that’s what’s really touching.”

Jerez's expression was grim: "Get out, Florian."

"Your former 'brother' didn't call me that," Florian Westwick chuckled, "He called me 'Mr. Westwick'. The priest of the Holy Cross really knows how to be polite and knows when to bend his waist, which is not worth mentioning..."

"Oh, I almost forgot."

The gray-haired man looked surprised: "It was because of bending over that he died tragically from the horse's love."

Bang!
Jerez took a sudden step forward, not only knocking the table over, but also causing the glass containing the fish bone on the table to shatter on the floor (see, this is the meaning of collecting money in advance.)
"Your breath smells worse than all the booze and sweat in here, Florian."

"Very interesting. Maybe when one of your bastards is willing to pay to take you to some more exclusive salons, you'll realize that the worst odors in the world are not sweat and alcohol - they are Jerez, poverty and ignorance."

Instead of retreating, he moved forward, facing the anger.

Stare quietly into those eyes burning with anger.

"I don't think you'll have much chance in your life. If you can read, maybe you can see him in a book - sorry, can you read?"

He sneered:
"Let those widows teach you."

Just as Herrera was about to swing his fist, the silver-handled cane pierced his breath and drew a half circle in front of the two men in an undignified manner.

Then, it returned to its owner's hands.

Florian rolled his eyes and finally focused on the troublemaker.

A…

An unbelievably young incinerator.

"and who are you?"

He had just paid no attention to Roland's self-introduction.

Of course, I won’t remember the other person’s name.

"Is it becoming popular in the Inquisition to look for beautiful holy children?"

Roland looked disappointed. "Westwick, a distinguished surname, no matter the waking or sleeping world - I find it hard to imagine that the descendants of the giant bear nobles can't even remember other people's names... It's quite respectable, isn't it?"

After this sentence, a shocking scene appeared.

Florian Westwick actually nodded slightly in apology and asked again.

"Your name, young man."

"I just said it once."

"It's probably not very decent to intervene in other people's conversations. If you have read books, you should know - advise your 'brother'," Florian pointed at Heresies with a smile, "to learn how to write from the widow... Of course, maybe he can find a blind woman to be his wife... Do you think he can do it?"

"Can't you find a wife?" Roland blinked. "Don't others have one?"

For an instant.

The explosive laughter ignited the entire tavern.

'Hahahahahahahahahahaha!'

'I like this guy!'

'Hey! I've got a nice woman! How about four shillings, old lion?'

Florian was stunned.

He had never seen anything like this... like this...

Listening to the laughter in his ears, the ritualist, who was also quite young, frowned - it was as if he was extending his palm with a blade hidden in it to the enemy at a court banquet, and the enemy did not shake it, nor did he intend to find an excuse to avoid it...

Instead, she performed a humiliating dance for him on the spot.

"Your name, Burner."

"You promise to remember this time?"

Florian looked indifferent and raised his hand to signal him to speak.

As a gentleman, not being able to remember the other person's name is enough - he won't make the same mistake a second time.

Roland looked at him suspiciously for a moment, hesitated for a few seconds, sighed and relaxed: "Okay, okay, you have to remember it this time. My name is Luo...Mulumulululululululululu——"

Florian: ...

Shandel: Phew.

The people present couldn't be happier.

A cigarette was held between the blades, and one hand whipped Fernandez's arm back and forth like a swung dog's tail.

"I knew it! I should have been on your team a long time ago! Devinson! I've missed out on so much fun!"

(End of this chapter)