The Secret Code of Monsters.

Chapter 178 Ch.177 The Cart Inn

"Rose."

"Ok?"

"Why do some people like to be beaten?"

The cafe still looked half-dead, with dim lights and lazy waiters.

It was a weekday afternoon and not many people were here. Roland and Rose lay on the table like two cats with poor appetites, each with their own troubles.

——All that’s missing are two dangling tails.

The short-haired girl half-closed her green eyes, rested her chin on her forearm, and her gaze moved back and forth between Roland's nose, eyes, and lips.

"Beating?"

She twisted her waist, changed her posture, and simply lay on her arms.

"Have you read any books you shouldn't have?"

"…Yeah, I'm still teething, so I shouldn't look around." Roland squinted his eyes like her and shook his head, trying to put her green eyes into his increasingly narrow field of vision.

"You know what I'm talking about." Miss Snitch rolled her eyes at him. "I don't know if anyone likes to be beaten. But if the person who has this hobby is your friend, and she's a woman - then I have to suggest that you stay away from her."

Roland folded his arms and leaned forward: "...Rose."

"Ok?"

"There's a beetle on your shoulder."

The girl raised her eyes and glanced left and right.

"You may be more serious than that guy who likes to be beaten, Roland."

Rose is worried about the gang and Mr. Diamond, whose whereabouts have become increasingly strange recently.

——They were supposed to make a living by stealing. Recently, as the number of people in the gang increased, their "territory" was also getting bigger and bigger.

The work is becoming more and more complicated.

This is not a good thing.

To be honest, Rose knew that she was not a smart person, but her years of experience in the business had made her particularly sensitive to danger:
As more and more people knew the name of the "Elephant Gang", they got closer and closer to blood and death.

Rats are supposed to live stealthily.

Once in the sun, it's easy to become a corpse under the broom.

The Elephant Gang is now like running into a busy street when the sun is at its hottest.

"I found what you wanted."

Rose said.

She picked up a French fry from the basket and held it between her lips: "Old Williams."

A good whipper.

"His ancestors have worked for your church for two generations...Pretty face, why don't you ask yourself? It's much more convenient than me asking."

Roland rolled his eyes.

"Why would I need to ask you if I could ask myself?"

"Aha...you're going to do something illegal, right?" Rose got a little excited when she heard that.

Roland did not comment: "Tell me more about it."

Williams Sr.

No offspring.

The body was buried in Shelley's Carriage Inn.

Over fifty years of experience in whip wielding.

His grandfather and father both worked for the church, but his generation lost the grace of God.

I worked as an executioner for a period of time, and later worked as a carpenter for a short period of time. According to my neighbors, every morning and evening, I could see him swinging his useless whip in the open space behind the house in the alley.

'A useless person who can't earn a single penny'.

Everyone says so.

After being kicked out of his job as a carpenter for stealing, Old Williams lost his job completely. He had to rely on his neighbors for help for a while, and later, he sold his belongings and managed to survive for a while.

In the end, he was simply sent to the poorhouse.

Rose sent people to visit several large poorhouses around London and learned about old Williams' "great deeds".

It is absolutely correct to say that this old guy is a useless person who can do nothing.

—Because even in the workhouse he was good for nothing.

Every day he complains of back pain, leg pain, or arm pain. A man with all four limbs intact does less work than the girls.

All day long he either lay lazily and groaned, or secretly whipped his old whip. Later, when his whip was taken away by the director, he completely stopped doing anything.

He died in an attack: allegedly on a young girl.

She was stoned to death outside in the middle of the night by her lover.

Who knows.

"I have selected fifteen targets for you, Roland." Rose counted on her fingers and gave him a brief account of them one by one.

These fifteen deceased were among the best whippersnappers in London.

But none of them have used the whip for as long as old Williams, and none of them learned to use the whip at a younger age.

Starting to learn at the age of five and starting to learn at the age of fifteen are two completely different things.

"The only one after old Williams is only about twenty years old." Rose raised her thumb and index finger and shot at Roland: "Now everyone uses this, pretty face. Who would let their children learn whipping from a young age? Throwing them into a blacksmith shop is more promising than learning this stuff..."

"I can guarantee that as time goes by, it will be harder to find such people."

Rose was right.

Fifty or sixty years of experience in using a whip is enough.

Roland nodded: "Let's talk about Shelley."

"James Shelley, a big businessman. It is said that he is related to the Gold Tooth Gang..." Rose leaned forward again, and her hot breath blew on Roland's nose: "Don't mess with those rich people."

The Gold Teeth Gang is in trouble.

Roland was her friend again.

She didn't want her pretty face to be entangled by that group of questionable people and be in a state of anxiety all day long.

Roland lowered his head in thought.

whip.

Old Williams' fifty or sixty years of experience is far more than the second choice by several times.

And there is only one "Flogger".

He couldn't find a cultist, give him the grand ceremony, let him use it for ten more years, and then kill him to take his hand bones.

There was no way to find a cultist who had performed the "Flogger", and the hand bones used by that cultist happened to be more years old than old Williams had used the whip.

He didn't even know whether the hand bones of a ritualist who had used the "Flogger" could be used again in a ritual.

Old Williams is his best choice at the moment.

Roland thought.

but…

The inn is not a good place.

This is a place that is slightly higher than the poorhouse, but in some ways no different from the poorhouse.

It can be said that it is a type of "hotel" chosen by homeless people and the lowest class of people who have no job or cannot support themselves with a job.

One farthing, with a seat and shelter from the wind and rain, but no sleeping;
Two farthings, with a rope, the person who pays the fee puts his feet on the ground and lowers his upper body slightly - the rope passes through his armpits and hangs, and the person rests while hanging like this;

And for four or five farthings (a penny) you could get a 'little wooden box'.

Like the simplest coffin, it is made of thin wooden boards nailed together and stacked in rows, similar to a beehive.

You can lie in it and rest comfortably for a whole night.

(Note: One Farn = a quarter of a penny)

In this densely populated and stinking place, it is impossible to dig secretly without being discovered.

"It was originally a small cemetery, with no important people there. Later, it was purchased by James Shelley, who fenced off the cemetery and turned the other empty land into a coach house. I heard that many people were interested in that place - this is London."

Rose sighed.

She had lived in that kind of place.

Frankly speaking, if you stay there long enough, you can see all kinds of scenery there that you will never see in your lifetime.

Closely connected wooden boxes, continuous snoring, wailing, and coughing.

There are also the cries of men or women.

There, people do all kinds of things.

Sleeping and resting is just the most common one.

"Oh, and there's another thing you wanted me to know."

Another matter is much more difficult than that of old Williams.

"That man's cemetery is really extraordinary."

(End of this chapter)