The Secret Code of Monsters

Chapter 728: Step by Step

When night falls, those who are noble or humble stop their activities outside the room.

So the night is fairer than the day.

Because no matter whether it is a specially tailored shirt or khaki trousers, there is not much variety in the posture and praises of welcoming the light of heaven - even if the person who is recorded in history or his descendants, when destroying another lady or gentleman who is recorded in history, they all do their best and sweat profusely like port workers.

Their expressions are equally hideous and ugly, and they will not be any more dignified than the lowly ones when they ascend to heaven.

So the night is fairer than the day.

If you're good at lying to yourself, you can also call your wife, who has wide feet, hairy legs and a belly fatter than a pot, 'Victoria' - the oil lamp won't tell.

Of course, I can’t say for sure about your son and daughter.

However, as long as you speak softly and try your best to please her, your wife might even hold your face in her hands and say, "My dear, most noble Albert" - then, you can hold your head high and pull those little bastards out of bed and pull them out of their sleep the next morning, and tell them:

'Now, you have royal blood.'

So the night is fairer than the day.

Some private things flourish at night. It is the release of the animal side of human beings, the most primitive instinct, the most violent and the most wonderful part of society.

For example, the gentlemen crawling in front of Roland.

And the girl shivering in the sack.

Kidnapping.

It's very common here.

"Who told you to come out at night, child?"

Shandel wore Roland's cloak and a thick long dress with a high collar to hide the scar on her neck.

They were heading for the port.

“…I want daddy.”

"I want one too, dear," the girl pointed at the kidnappers lying all over the place, the blood and internal organs all over the floor, and the only black-haired man standing, "but I found a new one..."

The girl was terrified.

She almost thought that she had just escaped from kidnapping and fell into the hands of a group of lunatics.

"My...my father has money..."

"Of course, that's why they chose you, isn't it?"

Shandel smoothed down her messy blond hair and helped her out of the sack.

Lead him to Roland.

He half-knelt down, touching her hair and wiping the tear marks from her face more gently than Shandel had.

"It's safe. You are safe. No one can hurt you."

Roland's voice was gentle.

"No one can hurt you except yourself..."

The girl's expression was a little strange.

"…Sir?"

"Don't worry, no one can hurt you. No one can hurt you except yourself... You are safe..."

"Sir... please, please take me back... take me to--"

"Of course. But I'm just telling you that you're safe. No one can hurt you except yourself..."

The girl was a little confused.

She lowered her head and looked at her hands, palms facing up.

Slowly…

Slowly.

Reaching towards his neck.

Then, hold on tight.

Just a few breaths.

Her face was purple and flaky like a swollen, protruding hemorrhoid.

She couldn't breathe.

After the wrinkles and peeling of the skin, a strange face that looked almost eighty years old was revealed.

The moon is like smoke.

Shadows follow.

With a slight "clang" sound, the specially made flint strips collided, exploding into a cluster of daylight!

It melted the shadow minions that were spreading on the wall and behind Shandel and Roland, and also temporarily blinded the girl's eyes!

"I think it should be sharp and pointed like a knife blade."

The words were like a breeze, turning the pair of deerskin-covered fingers into a sharp knife heading for the brain: it followed the ugly woman's eyeballs all the way inward, bending, scratching, and instantly crushing the other's brain.

The girl's body fell forward.

She collapsed on Roland, her chin resting on his shoulder, some grey and red liquid flowing out of her eye sockets, nostrils and mouth.

"I said you shouldn't wear new clothes."

Roland pushed her away, pulled out his finger, and wiped it on the corpse's skirt.

Shandel stood with his hands behind his back, watching intently.

She was extremely obsessed with Roland's appearance.

More obsessed than anyone else.

They are all shaking violently.

"I love you, Roland."

"Don't say sweet words when I'm covered in brains."

Roland looked at the corpse with great disgust.

"'Assassin', wanderer."

He said.

"Who else could it be?"

Shandel examined her clothes and those of the 'kidnappers', thoughtfully.

——It can’t be someone hired by the Great Whirlpool.

The sect always took matters into their own hands, especially in the case of Darwin: as a blasphemer who betrayed the sect, they should have sent their followers to massacre him in public with the most brutal means...

I would never hire an assassin from the shadows to kill him.

Besides.

There is still a difference between 'regular troops' and 'mercenaries' - although in the face of Roland's strange ability, there is no difference in their fate.

But the regular army is obviously more difficult to deal with.

Like Peter Heller.

He would not rashly approach and assassinate someone before finding out the target's information.

Even Shandel thought that she and Roland were not the targets.

"It seems to be just a coincidence. The cat encountered a lion while playing with its prey."

Shandel raised his foot and stepped on the girl's body.

Use a little more force.

He crushed half of her face.

"These people are probably here to protect Darwin, and it's clear who hired them."

Roland nodded.

"Hayman, or, Chloe?"

"We can't escape from that group of people," Xiandel stepped over the bodies lying in disorder, hugged Roland's arm, frowned slightly, and switched to the other side, "It seems that the vacation of the two captains is over. We have to notify them as soon as possible and be prepared..."

Since that day in the tavern, Blade fell in love with this lovely smoky gathering and often went there to gamble.

Fernandez went with Jerez and was invited to "see" the "style" of the port - as for how to see it, how to inhale it, and how to ascend to heaven, Roland didn't want to think about it.

The salty girls guarding the sea usually have straight legs, darker skin, wilder or more straightforward personalities (and more unique flavors)——

Maybe Fernandez would like this?

But speaking of straight...

"What are you thinking about, Roland?"

Xiandel asked suddenly, facing the bright moon, looking straight over with eyes as calm as a lake.

"Think about a date at the beach for a while."

The girl tiptoed and brought her chin closer.

"Yeah?"

She asked softly, and then with her hands.

"Of course." Roland said calmly.

But the two answers are not quite the same.

In the red and salty alley, someone painted the walls with blood and flesh as a celebration ceremony.

Shandel smiled with vicious fangs.

She was finally happy.

Because Roland became more and more like what she imagined...

"Did I pollute you, or did you pollute me?" The girl acted in a childish and delicate voice, and the blood, flesh and bones around her made her even more beautiful.

Roland didn't want to answer, he just wanted to kiss her.