The Secret Code of Monsters.

Chapter 519 Cemetery
One particularly interesting point is that ghosts rarely appear in cemeteries.

Perhaps it was the work of the Lord of the White Crown of the Wasteland, or perhaps it was the believers of the Ring of Eternal Silence who protected the land.

Most gravekeepers go their entire lives without ever encountering a ghost.

The biggest danger is tomb robbers, but other than that, there are the children who are naughty during the day - you can't imagine how many ways an energetic little lunatic can find to desecrate the dead.

Especially in a cemetery for the poor.

The children were ill-mannered, and "watering" the graves was considered a minor offense. The gravekeeper said he often found some children stealing candles and flowers from the tombstones and selling them, and some used small stone chisels to modify the words on the tombstones - they couldn't read.

Just a picture for fun.

So much so that he and his father had to keep a record book and check the tombstones once a week to make sure no one's name had been transformed into a little smiley face or a shallow fork.

"If there are ghosts, take them away."

The young man grumbled in annoyance, but immediately apologized and prayed softly.

Shandel found it funny.

Because as a gravekeeper, faith should no longer be the father of all things.

He should pray to the Lord of the White Crown of the Wasteland.

"The power of the Holy Cross is not allowed to enter the realm of the Ring of Eternal Silence, and these gravekeepers are not allowed to carry holy water. If the previous case had not had such a huge impact, the Ring of Eternal Silence would never have allowed the Inquisition to intervene."

As we go deeper, the tombs along the road become more and more dense.

Just as they had to squeeze into the same rented house and use chalk to mark out their respective resting areas when they were alive, they were also not allowed to relax after death - the good news was that no one argued about it anymore.

“You guys have a partnership with the funeral club?”

The gravekeeper leading the way was amused: "Sir, the whole of London has cooperation with that club."

Roland walked with his cane, taking one deep step and one shallow step.

"I heard there are quite a few."

"Ah, yes." As the sky darkened, the man came to a platform, picked one of the oil lamps, lit it, and led them further inside. "The cheaper ones are a few shillings, and the more expensive ones are several pounds."

"What's the difference?"

"It's whether you enjoy your own house or living in the mud with everyone else."

Seeing that Roland was about the same age as him, the gravekeeper spoke more casually: "The cheapest ones, or those who didn't pay at all, can only be buried here or in worse places. Sir, you definitely don't want to know how they are treated on a daily basis..."

The gravekeeper said.

"But with a little bit of effort, just a little bit... you can get a wider one."

The young gravekeeper told Roland seriously that if he paid the highest price, he could still choose "where to go".

"What goes where?"

"Where do we go after we die?"

He said.

"Heaven, or the land of the dead."

He said that his father had saved enough money and finally settled down, waiting for a painless death and returning to the arms of the gods - and the reason he chose the Kingdom of the Dead was because his mother's belief was the Lord of the White Crown of the Wasteland.

The husband hopes to be reunited with his wife after death.

The son's idea was not so 'touching' - he didn't ask for much, he just wanted to go to heaven.

"You say, can I?"

"Then you have to save more money."

"Yes, sir. It's hard to find a woman in our business. We gamble and drink, and we only have to support ourselves."

As the daylight faded, the night mist descended.

It was already hazy before midnight - if there wasn't someone familiar with the road holding a lantern, it would be hard to say how long it would take them to find the right direction: when the surrounding environment became so dark that you couldn't see your fingers when you stretched out your arm, it would undoubtedly become a paradise for criminals.

This is also the reason why the tomb robber was able to succeed time and time again.

The gravekeeper led them to the hut where they stayed and served the three of them pea soup, which was as turbid as the gray puddles on both sides of East Avenue. "If you want to walk freely at night, you can't do it without a guide."

There was a hint of greed in the young gravekeeper's words, but he and his father were useless to Fernandez - if the other party was a first-level ring...even an apprentice, they would not be able to deal with him.

Maybe you will even have to sacrifice your life.

"The excavated cemeteries are Areas 1, 3, and 4. That means Areas 2 and 5, which are closest to the depths, have not been touched by him." Fernandez took the bowl of steaming pea soup and sniffed it...

Just hold it.

"If you'd noticed—" He looked away.

Shandel held his chin in his hand and continued, "That's right. This is a mortal... an apprentice at most."

she says.

The graves that were dug were too scattered and messy, and the number of times and intervals between them were too long, which almost told the police that I was a stupid thief with little strength and experience.

"And the order," Roland added softly, "He seems to be digging the graves from far to near... This is so stupid. Does he think no one cares about this?"

Fernandez shook his head.

"You can't use your clever little brain to guess the bottom line of a stupid person, Roland."

He clapped his hands, pulled out his gun, placed the bullet box he was carrying on the table, and showed his teeth to the blue-faced gravekeeper: "You can go now."

"S-Sir?"

"We can take responsibility for our own lives, but not yours. Get out of here, kid, and don't set foot in this area until the sun rises again."

After the young gravekeeper stumbled into the fog carrying the oil lamp, Roland pulled out his dagger, gun, and holy water and checked them one by one.

"'Child'." He lowered his head and sighed, "You have never called me and Shandel that."

Fernandez glanced at him and said, "Are you looking for a beating?"

Roland couldn't help but lament: "You dragged two young people into the fingerless fog, to catch thieves in a cemetery full of bones and cold wind, but they didn't even get a 'child'..."

Shandel raised his hand and said obediently, "Captain Devinson never called me that."

Fernandez: ...

Roland: "Maybe we don't deserve it."

Shandel: "Aren't we liked by the captain?"

Fernandez silently separated the two types of bullets, loaded them into the magazines one by one, put the two daggers into the soft sheaths on the boots and chest respectively, and prepared holy water.

"Sometimes, I feel like you two are the captains."

"We're just kids."

Fernandez picked up a bullet and threw it at Roland.

"Get your weapons ready and be alert! You two talented rookies. If you get hurt by the apprentices, don't say it was me who brought you here."

He stood up, took an oil lamp from the house and lit it, without looking back: "I'm in District 2. Remember, once the war starts, we only need corpses... That baby is not as important as you."

As midnight approached, the cemetery began to resemble a black, rotten swamp filled with thick fog.

The next second after Fernandez stepped into the fog, his figure became difficult to distinguish with the naked eye. All that could be seen was a bean-sized fire swaying farther and farther away, and getting smaller and smaller.

The wind outside the house whistled like a whistle, ignoring the rugged corners of the important places and howling through the damp and soft maze.

Roland put the last bullet into the magazine.

"He's pretty gentle, isn't he?"

"All Holy Flames are like this, Roland. They will change faster than you think... much faster."

"Yeah, it's not like some roads that are bad from beginning to end."
-
You and Chandel will definitely get along.

"fart."

(End of this chapter)