The Secret Code of Monsters.

Chapter 1108 (Ch.1107) Another Treasure

Looking at the man trembling with his head in his hands, Keshhai raised his hand.

A burst of white flames burned the green soil into scorched earth.

Including those roses.

"...We have no intention of being enemies with the court."

Trek was no longer as at ease as before; even with the most poisonous vesicles, it still had its natural enemies.

"Courtroom?"

Keshihai casually put the harmonica back into his coat pocket and stood up.

With each step he took, the viscous flames left burning, pale footprints on the scorched earth.

“If you had no intention of being enemies of the court, you wouldn’t have made things difficult for a woman.”

The wide-brimmed hat was tilted up a few degrees.

He revealed a blank face.

"The whirlpool is no different from before."

He took a deep breath.

"Even from two streets away, I can smell the stench of your plant-headed minds..."

Trek took another step back and said in a deep voice, "Lord Horn does not wish for conflict. Kashhai, we have come only to eradicate filth and evil..."

"When did you all start doing the work of the Holy Cross?" Keshhai said, patting his shirt pocket, then down to his waist and finally to his trouser pocket.

Trek stared at him coldly.

"I've never heard of you joining Silver Spinner..."

He couldn't help but subtly criticize Keshiketeng for focusing on a street woman and exercising his so-called 'justice' in a place that is not even just.

honestly.

Trek's knowledge of Kerschhai was limited to 'legends': he did join the vortex early on, but he hardly ever had any dealings with Kerschhai—ten years ago, he was still a low-level player and hadn't even dreamed of going to London.

He believes…

He was a member of the Sixth Ring Road and was leading two members of the Fifth Ring Road.

Even if they couldn't defeat Kashgar, they should at least be able to escape unscathed—this is London, after all. In time, someone will eventually step in to uphold 'true justice'…

Horn was standing behind him.

The true master of the Great Whirlpool.

"That's why I said you all have plant-like brains."

Keshhai saw the eagerness in Trek's eyes and found it really funny.

He had no idea what "holy flame" meant.

This flame, which is not 'glamorous' at all, and whose entire power after reaching the eighth ring is less than that of any sixth-ring path of a true god, why does it inspire such fear in so many people?

The answer is simple.

Their flames were terrifying enough.

During the ten years he was gone, little Enid remained just as lazy…

It seems that the younger generation of ritual practitioners has already forgotten what the "sacred flame" looks like.

"Lord Horn will deal with you!!"

A giant thorn vine, hidden for a long time, burst forth from the ground!

Trek didn't see anything wrong with repeating the same trick—even if the enemy was Kashhai, the most terrifying "Holy Flame" in the history of the Inquisition, a ritualist whose name was listed at the very top of the "Great Sins"...

As long as he gets a scratch...

Even just a layer of skin.

No flesh and blood could withstand the 'pain' that Ross inflicted.

The cannonball-like thorns smashed through the rubble and coiled around the inactive man like a man-eating python. Then, the withered tree soldiers on both sides slowly surrounded him.

Success…

On the lush green bramble vines.

The coral-colored hollyhocks gradually grew lush.

Everything happened in the blink of an eye.

"Let me see how the wails of 'great sin' differ from those of mortals..."

Trek commanded Ross to grow the longest and sharpest thorns, ensuring they pierced the enemy's body completely. Then…

The green knight beside him detonated his flower.

The dense explosions shook the earth, sending debris flying like a volcanic eruption, surging and unstoppable.

The flames first rose upwards, their grid-like expansion pausing for half a second before spreading to both sides. With a deafening roar, the distorted light nearly ignited half of London's night.

Like a curtain that has been set ablaze, the sky has turned red.

Trek squinted, and after several breaths, he slowly emerged from behind several tall soldiers.

His face suddenly turned ugly.

"Using fire to kill the messenger of fire... I love your ingenious ideas."

The impact didn't even knock the wide-brimmed hat off.

Keshhai brushed the charred plant debris off his body, still offering them no expression other than indifference—just like the explosion itself.

Trek clearly understood the most important ability of the Holy Flame Eight Rings "White Knight": endurance warfare.

—As the battle progresses, their strength will continue to increase.

His idea was sound: extreme, focused, and explosive power.

But it's like talking about the ocean with someone who can't swim.

"I think you should learn your lesson this time."

Keshhai looked at Roland.

"Never underestimate any high-ranking member... Before you can armor your soul, too many forces can harm you. Your mentor was irresponsible, she... she was too obedient to the dictates of fate—what is your assessment of this battle?"

He stood there, in front of the three high-ranking members, and brazenly gave Roland a unique lesson.

"Is this considered 'repayment'?"

Roland struggled to his feet, pressing his knees as he stood up.

Shaky.

He suffered some minor injuries in the explosion, but what pained him even more was the sight of those roses.

The Curse of the Rose.

“Not yet,” Kashhai glanced indifferently at Trek, who stood rooted to the spot. “I hope you don’t have too many questions. Just like I won’t ask you why you fear the rose—you need more battles, more dangerous ones, more frequent ones, and ones on more different paths…”

He knew all too well the near-death experiences Roland had faced after arriving in London.

But Keshtai believes.

not enough.

Some battles cannot be won by simply saying "a madman who is not afraid of death"—if he had a choice, there would be many ordinary people in London who are not afraid of death.

What impact can these people have on him?
"More, more enemies, more dangerous situations, more terrible curses... Either step on the blood of your enemies, or let them step on your head."

Keshhai walked slowly past the standing tree giant.

"I don't know what interesting passages your Enid heard in the symphony of fate... Roland Collins, whatever your purpose, how much does your basket of greed want to hold—power is always the constant law of survival... I think you, with your background, should know this better than anyone else."

Enid.

Roland Collins.

As those two names echoed across the scorched earth filled with the pungent smell, Trek's pupils dilated for a moment.

He was smart and immediately realized that, knowing the secret, he could not possibly be let off by Keshtai.

"Do it!!"

He yelled, ripped open his tattered priest's robe, revealing a strange, twisted face on his chest...

Human face.

Roland recognized this face.

Florian Westwick.

"As long as we can stall until Lord Horn—"

"The same thing a mouse whose vertebrae have been bitten off by a cat tells its family."

Faced with the ever-approaching tree giant, the man in the wide-brimmed hat searched every pocket of his trench coat, and finally managed to snatch a fairly sharp dagger from Roland's 'corpse'.

He weighed it in his palm.

“Another treasure.” Roland pursed his lips.

Kashhai glared at him and scolded, "This is far from 'Spider's Kiss,' Collins. I don't want to see little Enid's lover become a profit-driven businessman..."

“This dagger was given to me by Enid—when I set out on my journey,” Roland replied slowly.

The man paused.

But the plant soldiers behind him didn't give him time to call a halt.

"...Watch closely. How a real Executor who has wielded the dual 'Swords of Judgment' fights... Who taught you your sissy fighting style?"

Keshhai flicked the dagger with his index finger.

Suddenly.

A burst of white flames surged onto the blade.

(End of this chapter)