The Secret Code of Monsters

Chapter 786: Basotai

"If it weren't for those nosy scoundrels from the Inquisition, I'm afraid there would be a better place to entertain you."

Through the crimson curtain.

The veil holds the silver moon in her arms.

Bright golden room.

Young maids served their master, the owner of the house, a square-faced man with a thick beard.

A burly man with long burgundy hair was leaning against the window, with a black hairless hound lying at his feet, holding a beer in his hand and remaining silent.

He didn't want a maid to serve him, but wanted to participate in the conversation more as a listener.

"Mr. Bertrand."

The bearded man smiled, his narrow triangular eyes showing shrewdness: "If you ever come to the East, I will definitely let you see the differences between races..."

As the host, the hook-nosed Yoram Ben Bertrand raised his glass and smiled a man's natural smile: "Well, I'll start looking forward to it from now on."

The two businessmen drank happily, accompanied by the giggles of the maids.

"This batch of goods was intercepted from the 'Company', Mr. Basotai, I have many friends," Bertrand flicked his thick fingers with gemstone rings one by one, jumping on the blonde maid's head like playing piano keys, "I will keep my word."

"Of course you are a man of honor, Mr. Bertrand. We are friends, and friends will never cheat on friends - but, as you know, many things are beyond my control."

Basotai grinned, and the faint fangs under his thick lips clearly stated:

A carnivore.

"This is a big deal. If anything goes wrong, I don't know how I'll explain it."

"How could I let you, my friend, make a mistake?"

"That's natural."

Basotai played with it carelessly, and suddenly said, "I heard that the 'raw materials' of this thing come from the magic of the Unholy Cult?"

Cliff Heyman lowered his head and stared at the slightly "small" beer glass in his hand, silently glancing at the Oriental man who had the same beard as himself.

Obscene religion.

Their name for the "black urn".

"Ah, I don't know about that, Mr. Basotai. I'm just a businessman and I will never get involved in the troubles of ritualists." Bertrand waved his hands quickly, with a sincere look on his face that said, "If I knew, I would definitely tell you."

Actually.

They both knew who each other was.

Basotai drank to hide the fierceness in his eyes. When he raised his head again, he smiled again: "You abide by the rules, and of course we abide by the rules too - we hope to do this business with you for a long time, how can we make things difficult for you?"

Bertrand smiled and took a sip with him.

"I heard that there are still some cultists in your country..."

Basotai raised his eyebrows. "It's not worth mentioning, sir. They can't afford good ones, so they complain that this thing harms people. They are ignorant and don't understand our hard work at all..."

Basotai lowered his eyes and pinched the corner of the cup.

"The king changed his mind at our suggestion, Monsieur Bertrand. As for that group of people..."

"It won't take much effort to wipe out the rebellion."

Bertrand pointed at him with his finger, half jokingly and half teaching: "You are too weak and slow in dealing with those untouchables. Look at my factory, my business - Mr. Bassotai, do you remember the fire I talked about?"

Basotai nodded slightly.

"'Iron Lily' - so what? She claimed to be righteous, but she burned to death those she wanted to save... She thought this was a relief, was she really?"

“I received triple compensation for that.”

“Excellent.”

“I wish every worker could be like her.”

Yoram ben Bertrand gently pushed the maid aside with his foot and struggled to move his fat body from the velvet cushions.

He stared at Basotai, his raised brow ridge casting a shadow across his eye sockets.

“The more important things to come…”

"Mr. Bassotai."

"Don't let this little thing delay greater cooperation with the Empire... You understand what I mean, don't you?"

Basotai's throat rolled and his dark eyes lit up.

The cigar on the square holder has burned out.

It's time to order a new one.

"I don't like you dividing people into 'diehards' and 'liberals', Mr. Basotai. In my opinion, there are only the 'new' who pursue freedom and the 'old' who are conservative and backward. The fact that you can sit here now proves that you are much smarter than they think..."

Basoté smiled and said, "I don't understand the meaning of 'new' well enough, Mr. Bertrand."

"You have a long time to understand. Do your job well and don't let the imperial soldiers come to negotiate with you in person - by then, some agreements will be difficult to enforce... Oh, and our Mr. Heiman."

Yoram ben Bertrand suddenly mentioned the man at the window.

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"This gentleman will accompany you across the sea."

Basotai looked over inquiringly.

Cliff Heyman nodded: "For the Empire, Mr. Basotai. I will protect your safety and find a strange beast in your country..."

"I think you can tell me its characteristics."

Basotai said.

"A black and white bear," Cliff Hyman mused. "I wish I had a cub that had just left its mother..."

Basotai understood.

"I understand, Mr. Heyman. Please come back with me. I will send someone to find them for you. If they exist, they will be delivered to you."

Cliff Hyman was about to thank him when the hound at his feet suddenly pricked up its ears.

It lay flat on the carpet, arched its back, and bared its teeth toward the window.

Cliff Heyman frowned and gestured to the two men.

then.

Stand up slowly.

He made almost no sound as he came to the window, leaned against the wall, and slowly clenched his fists.

It smashed through the brick wall in one go!

Loud bang!

Along with the splashing of bricks, a shadow floated away as soft as thin paper - like a nimble and slender wild cat, it landed on another roof and then quickly flew away.

"Mr. Heyman!"

Bertrand cried out.

As the guards barged in, the meaning of this statement became clearer.

Their conversation must not be leaked.

"It won't be alive."

Cliff Heyman pulled a pair of special gloves from his pocket and put them on.

He whistled to tell the hound to wait where it was, then opened the window and climbed out.

The moon is shallow and the fog is thick.

Two figures were chasing each other on the uneven walls and eaves.

As the "secret" was swallowed and inhaled by him like a torrent, the horrifying scene was gradually dyeing the midnight, which was no different from any other day, red.

Cliff Heyman's legs became long and thin, but the muscles above and below the joints bulged in a way that was not what a human should have.

He squatted and crawled like a frog...

Fly towards the eavesdropper!