The Secret Code of Monsters

Chapter 783 Ch.782 Assassination

The gunman, wrapped in a blanket, found a chair and leaned against the railing.

It knelt on it, resting the barrel of its gun on the edge of the bulging, faded iron frame: using it as a fulcrum to move the muzzle, following the unhurried carriage, locking onto that sickening smiling face—

The people in the pot-shaped carriage were completely unaware of this and were waving enthusiastically to the people around them, frowning at the flower petals that cleverly avoided the parasol and fell on her shoulders.

'God save the Queen!'

The cheers were deafening.

The gunman cursed.

One eye is open, the other is closed. The large balcony is filled with the things it had prepared in advance: hangers, chairs and blankets, which are used to block the view in the same horizontal direction.

As for the cheering people on the balcony opposite...

They don't notice it.

The whole street's attention was focused on the gilded carriage downstairs.

On the woman bathing in flowers.

"I don't recommend you do that."

The cold voice pierced through the enthusiastic cheers, leaving a hole in this mirage-like carnival.

then.

A cold wind rushed in instantly.

"Ms. Yolanda, I don't recommend you do this."

The annoying sound rang out again.

Yolanda turned her head silently.

Behind the 'cloth wall' she had hung up earlier, the man leaning against the railing was leaning back, with half of his face visible from behind the blanket blown by the breeze - the golden amber was like the most dazzling dragon egg, breathing in and out, staring at her quietly.

Waiting for the miracle to hatch.

he…

When did you come.

At some point, when no one noticed, he silently jumped onto the balcony.

or.

He simply walked in through the main door, tiptoeing like a cat, making each step as light as a hair.

Yolanda's slanted almond-shaped eyes lost their murderous sharpness - for a moment, a hint of naivety emerged from them that should have made people smile in a doting manner.

Just a moment.

She gritted her teeth and refocused on her goal: the damn target on the street, in the carriage.

Or any imaginable splashing sound.

Yolanda hung her head in shock.

The cold iron in my hand actually melted as I kept pressing it, like a gem solidified in the clouds, and it sprinkled down a soft and sweet rainbow for the world.

The gun and the bullet in it...

Melted.

The cold water flowed through her fingers, wet her palms, and flowed freely along her wrists, dripping onto her knees, the chair, and the blue stone tiles of the balcony.

Realizing that she had missed this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, the woman was like a mad female leopard!

She no longer had to pretend to be humble and submissive. The slanted ends of her eyes were like a sharp sword with wings, slicing along the lines of sunlight towards the face with an indecent smile!

"die!"

She growled and pounced forward!

The next moment he was punched in the stomach, strangled by the throat, and thrown into the room.

There was a loud bang.

She knocked over the round table and candlesticks, and her forearms, back of the neck and waist were numb from the impact.

She rolled over, got up, and pounced on him again.

The dagger in the palm of his hand pierced into a soft spot.

In the quilt.

"I'm trying to save you, Miss Yolanda. She wouldn't be without a Ritualist guarding her - if you weren't blind, you would have seen the bailiffs and detectives around."

Yolanda gasped.

Even with the help of weight, she still couldn't stab the dagger into the annoying golden eye.

She held him like that, thrusting downward with both hands.

The person below just nonchalantly blocked it with one hand.

The other one even took the time to pull out his pocket watch, opened it and checked the time.

"You all deserve to die..."

Yolanda's face was hideous, and her ink-black eyes became like a mirror, reflecting Roland Collins' face.

"I don't think I have offended you, Miss Yolanda."

"All foreigners deserve to die."

"I like this name."

Bang!

The misplaced laxity caused her to stab the dagger firmly into the bed. She was thrown to the ground by a huge force, and then she was lifted up by her hair and slammed against the wall.

Yolanda felt like the whole world was shaking.

Actually.

She also understood what was happening.

Almost all the bones in her body were broken.

She was disappointed in her failure.

But do not despair of impending death.

"Kill me. Just like the others you brutalized... Kill me quickly."

Yolanda raised her arms with difficulty and wiped the blood flowing from the corners of her mouth or nostrils.

She hung her head and slumped in the corner, like a rose crushed in rose juice.

“I’m not like those people.”

Roland said softly.

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Yolanda sneered, "You don't kill women?"

Roland shook his head: "I don't smoke a pipe."

Yolanda: ...

What is he saying…?

What…pipe?

Is he...crazy?

Knock knock.

There was a knock on the door.

But to a thief, knocking on the door is not a sign of inquiry or courtesy.

A few breaths.

The door lock was pried open.

Two footsteps of varying weights crossed the long hall and entered the bedroom.

Yolanda tilted her head with difficulty.

It's Rose with curly hair, and the maid Halida with long hair.

“Tsk.”

Rose first glanced at Yolanda in the corner, then looked at Roland who was sitting on the bed.

"I shouldn't have made a bet with you."

She nodded at Halida and asked her to check Yolanda's injuries.

"You didn't kill her."

"Didn't you hear she's still scolding me?"

"Maybe his stomach has turned into a pulp. Who knows?" Rose nimbly stepped over the debris on the ground and sat next to Roland. She looked curious and asked, "How did you know that?"

In fact, it wasn’t Roland who noticed it.

It's Shandel.

When they first met, Shandel sensed that something was wrong.

Miss Library is obviously very knowledgeable.

She discovered that the woman who called herself 'Yolanda' was wearing quite extraordinary clothes - from what she knew, only the 'nobles' of the East were qualified to wear such woven clothes.

Although it is unclear what the specific levels and styles are (or whether there is a distinction between levels and styles), it is enough to observe one point.

The woman who called herself 'Yolanda' was not very comfortable with this style of clothing.

She looked very uncomfortable.

It was like suddenly putting Halida in a whalebone skirt.

What’s more interesting is her statement.

Come here to buy goods, buy and sell ointments. Ocean storms, pirates, sold into the golden lamp of Noti -

Considering what the Empire is doing there recently...

Let me put it this way.

If she used the 'balm' as cargo, and was willing to become the 'key' to open the gates of the empire - she and her father would not have died at the hands of pirates.

Not to mention being sold to the Noti Golden Lamp.

She should be a guest at Buckingham Palace.

In fact, it is hard to say whether she has a father or not.

"You are not Yolanda. At least, you are not the owner of that dress."

Roland stretched himself and interrupted the scolding:

"I don't necessarily want to stop you from assassinating her - at least think of a thoughtful way, Miss Mask. If she could really be killed with a single bullet, someone would have done it long ago."

'Yolanda's' black pupils flickered.

These people...

They have no respect for their monarch.

"Cultists."

She uttered a heavy word.

"It's over. We've been discovered. It's all your fault Rose."

"Shut up."