The Secret Code of Monsters.

Chapter 520 Ch.519 Serious Crime
"Digging a grave."

"One of the felonies."

The same fate applies to theft, blasphemy, felling trees, writing threatening letters, rape, and damaging bridges.

The highest level of punishment.

Especially the poor, the incompetent, and those whose parents and families are incompetent.

You will be hung on a wooden frame and suspended, dangling in every square.

of course.

Some people believe that some serious crimes are outdated and that the severity of punishment should be slightly modified to reflect the changing times - maybe.

But gravedigging is different.

No matter what era, no matter which party is in power, no one dares to speak for the gravediggers.

Because these people not only go for burial objects, they also steal the corpses and sell them to large and small, legal or illegal medical schools, for those "butchers" who have not completely changed their mindset from barbers to practice or use them as "teaching tools."

Some even more 'secret' shops would sell 'medicines' mixed with parts of corpses - this wasn't cheating, but it was clearly illegal.

It is hard to say whether it is helpful for health.

The benefactor is above.

Are the citizens of London living so well and so healthy that there is a shortage of corpses?
The rich can afford to send people to guard the graves, or bury their relatives in the best cemeteries, while the poor can usually only use wire to make a barbed "barrier" next to the grave, or boil the body thoroughly into bones before burying it.

This undoubtedly reflects the current hatred towards tomb robbers.

No need to think too much.

Anyone caught would be hanged, with no room for mercy - unless they were the children of a noble or a wealthy merchant...

But if these people's children robbed tombs for the sake of excitement, I'm afraid the victims would be happy.

That's why Fernandez asked Cinder and Roland to prepare their weapons.

You can be merciful to thieves, but not to tomb robbers.

He himself knew what would happen if he was caught.

"Recently, a couple was sentenced to fifteen years in prison."

Holding an unlit oil lamp, Shandel and Roland hid behind a rare tomb with a large tombstone, chatting casually - from here, they could see or hear the sounds of the entire fifth district.

Of course, there are rumors coming from all directions now.

"Who?"

"It's all in the newspapers. Two men... I forgot their last names." Shandel lowered his voice: "I heard that they were going to be hanged, but the incident was reported to the church, and in the end someone spoke up for them... I guess they won't be sentenced to fifteen years in prison."

After the excitement is over, maybe in two or three years I will come out and live somewhere else with a different identity.

"I have no intention of blaspheming the gods, Shandel." Roland paid attention to the white waves blowing around in front of him and said softly, "I just don't understand, if you like something, does it mean you no longer like it just because it's big?"

Shandel blinked: "I like it more."

Roland: "I mean boys. If the priests like boys enough, why would it become 'blasphemy' just because they grow up to be men——"

Shandel: "I was talking about boys, too."

Roland: ...

Shandel covered his mouth and laughed, his shoulders shrugging.

She patted Roland's arm lightly, her blue eyes flickering, "It's really not nice for you to say such things in front of a former Saint Candidate."

But it is true.

Miss Library couldn't understand why.

"My grandfather loves you to death." She leaned on Roland's shoulder and breathed into his ear: "Look, you have also fallen into Kratov's hands."

"You don't discuss anything with anyone?"

"Yeah... Roland. But if you're angry, you can hit me."

"Let's make an appointment for another time."

Shandel laughed foolishly, lowered his head and approached the blood vessels in Roland's neck. Every breath he exhaled trembled his skin like a spider weaving a web on a tombstone: "...something happened between you and that dirty and smelly thief, right?"

Roland said nothing.

"I know, Roland, I know everything..." Shandel narrowed her eyes: "I don't care what happened between you... But if you are like my grandfather, Roland..." She stroked his neck.

"I will kill you."

Roland tilted his head slightly: "Are you talking about becoming a high-level ritualist?"

Xiandel couldn't help it and pinched his arm.

"You are getting worse and worse now. You were not like this when I first met you... in the ward, remember?"

Roland thought thoughtfully: "Maybe there was a bad guy who taught me bad things."

"If you dare to blame me, you'll be blind for the whole night."
-
You are too sensitive.

"I know you too well, you blind man."

"Anyway... Roland. Love women, love nothing else."

Roland didn't know why Shandel suddenly brought this up.

Maybe because he's been visiting the Randolphs so often lately?
Actually.

The way same-sex relationships are handled today is relatively ambiguous, unlike fifty or a hundred years ago when there was almost no room for survival - it's different now.

There were very few violent executions, most of them were due to "insufficient evidence" or imprisonment for "lack of piety" - as long as the gentlemen were smart enough not to be caught "king against king", there would always be room and reason for rebuttal.

(Mr. Mince Croy is a good example. Although he was caught, he died first, so no one could punish him.)
Women are a little different in this regard.

To a large extent, people have adopted a 'blind eye' attitude towards the relationship between women:

They knew what their 'friendship' was about, and they knew they knew.

They knew they knew they knew - but as long as neither they nor they mentioned it, no one would know.

For example, a letter expressing gratitude for friendship.

A quill or a necklace as a symbol of friendship.

Like a friendship kiss.

Like a hug to foster affection... or other graceful exercises to strengthen the muscles in your hands and forearms.

Or other unique designs... that make people look like a violin bow...

In short, I will be more tolerant.

Perhaps influenced by Miss Nina, he had no good or bad opinions about these people.

He just didn't expect that Shandel would be so disgusted.

"It's a disease, Roland." Shandel did not hide his nausea expression. "I would rather find a sheep in your bedroom than Randolph Taylor in his bathrobe."

"If it were a sheep in a Randolph Taylor robe..."

"Or Randolph Taylor in his woolly bleating clothes..."
-
You really shouldn't say that to someone with such an imaginative mind.

"These people are the real blasphemers. The disease that comes from their bloodline is a terrible poison that will be passed on to the next generation. They can never be cured and deserve to go to hell—"

Roland gently pinched his wrist, suddenly interrupting Shandel's voice.

The waves in my sight are quietly surging.

After a few breaths.

Shandel also heard the rustling sound.

The sound of dry grass being crushed by the soles of shoes.

creak...

creak...

Soon they heard the sound of earth being turned over and stones hitting each other.

The thief was not careful enough.

"Follow him." Roland wrote on the palm of Shandel's hand.

do not forget.

Two babies were not found alive.

(End of this chapter)