The Secret Code of Monsters.

Chapter 521: Consecration of the Hoard and Private

Just as previously guessed.

This is indeed a stupid thief.

Even Shandel shouldn't use the word "thief" to describe it - at least a thief knows what he is doing.

This person obviously doesn't know.

It just threw up sand and mud aimlessly, again and again, digging with its bare hands at the soil full of sharp stones and ferns.

Soon, the girl with a keen sense of smell smelled blood.

It didn't notice anyone following it, that is.

"The gravekeeper is lazy."

It was impossible for the father and son to fail to notice such obvious noises - even if they just made a quick patrol in the second half of the night.

They weren't even in the cemetery.

"I thought he had told us about his hobbies a long time ago." Roland muttered into Shandel's ears like an ant, and his hot breath made the girl feel itchy, "...drinking and gambling."

"You should have some hobbies." Shandel rubbed Roland's chin with her soft gray hair, and there was an emotion in her eyes that shouldn't be there at this moment: "For example, gamble a few times, or collect some red wine, whiskey... Oh... By the way."

After saying this, the girl suddenly remembered.

Roland Collins, her whipper seemed never to have been to the red-light district—and never to have had any marks of promiscuity on her.

This is so unmanly.

What does he like?
Apart from cigars, his life seemed to be filled with only cases.

I stayed at home during my rest time, and went to the Fairy Ring at midnight to play cards and drink tea with her and Rose...

Shandel suddenly discovered that Roland didn't have any hobbies that men should have - just like even as an executive, she had the same preferences as other women.

Those beautiful blankets, the handbags with unique shapes and designs, the elegant long and short boots, and the long skirts with different textures and stitches from various designers.

Bonnet hat that can be freely assembled.

Pearls, colored gems, gold.

Shiny things.

and, private discussions about men, fashion, art, and other shit.

Shandel also eats mortal food, so there is no need for her to make herself "supernatural" in this regard - but what exactly is Roland's hobby?

The gray-haired girl stared quietly at the man's profile.

She plans to help him find some hobbies...

Because once a man has some free time, he might stare at his friends, rubbing his chin and thinking, "Is he better than a woman?"

Shandel obviously thought too much, but Roland didn't know - no one knew that someone would think about these things when performing a mission in the cemetery.

"I have no interest in wine...don't we already drink it like water?" Roland replied in a low voice.

The water supply in London was not very reliable, and families with a little money would use lower-proof wine instead of water.

"I mean collection, Roland." Shandel leaned over and leaned on his shoulder.

She didn't care at all whose body the stupid mad thief dug out.

Just like before she fell in love with Roland, she never thought that she could really become an executive officer...

just now…

It's just a matter of time.

"Collection?" Roland said, "You mean... Oh, there are quite a few in Randolph Taylor's cellar. I heard that every barrel is worth a lot of money - they are older than Fernandez."

"Don't mention that man." Shandel frowned, leaned forward and raised his eyes: "My grandfather has the authority to take a batch of top-quality long-aged wines from the church's wine cellar every month... I can ask for this authority."

Roland was stunned for a moment: "The church's wine cellar?"

If he remembered correctly, a ritual that Shandel had used before required highly consecrated red wine... called -

Blood of Heaven?

"Yes, the Blood of Heaven." She was glad that Roland still remembered the name. "Also called the Tears of Eden. This extremely yang power even exceeds that of holy water. Since recorded history, no heretic from the Cradle of Flesh and Blood has dared to run wild in the church."

"The holy wine stored there is enough to melt an eight-ring master who possesses the power of the feminine... maybe even higher, I don't know." Xiandel paused: "Because such a stupid thing has never happened before..."

This is also Roland's problem.

The Holy Cross may have a large collection of highly consecrated red wines, and is constantly adding new ones to the cellar every year - but how could this cheap, inferior wine, which is only used as 'high-quality holy water' and 'ritual material', become the 'high-quality privilege' of the bishop?
From Roland's limited knowledge, it seemed that the cheapest red wine only cost a dozen pennies.

The kind without labels.

Gary Kratov shouldn't be rare.

"Certainly not the cheapest, Roland."

Shandel liked to see a "stupid" expression on Roland's face. It always gave her a strong, indescribable throbbing: she wanted to bite him fiercely with her teeth, and then grind him carefully...

"Of course it's not the cheapest," the girl licked her lips, her eyes narrowed into a long arc, "Where do you think the money for the wine comes from?"

"It can't be a donation from devout believers." Roland said.

"That little bit of money is nothing," Shandel purred a few times like a cat and clung to Roland's arms. "Of course it comes from the 'Parliament of Truth' - the nobles and wealthy businessmen in the parliament, and through the parliament, they influence the House of Representatives and 'request' national funding -"

Holy Cross is the state religion.

What does it mean to consecrate wine?
It means the cheapest means to fight against the Cradle of Flesh and Blood and these cultists who want to destroy the world: at least it can be bought with money, and compared to those scarce materials, they are everywhere.

and so.

Give me the money quickly.

Every year, every month, a steady stream of gold pounds flows into the Holy Cross and into the Church.

They used the money to 'perform holy services', including wine of course.

"Although it's called 'sanctified wine', in reality, there won't be any cultists going crazy and attacking the church - it's already the private cellar of the bishops and high-ranking members of the council, Roland."

Shandel quipped, “Who would use a limited edition bottle of wine from a 25-year-old grand cru to exorcise evil spirits?”

Not only red wine.

In fact, many pastors with distinguished backgrounds or bishops in wealthy regions have been given preferential treatment to some extent.

Everything they eat, wear and use every day, even a bar of soap, is packaged in a beautiful colorful box and wrapped with specially decorated cashmere thread. The soap is wrapped in oil paper and comes with a handwritten card.

This is called 'shepherd's detail'.

Having spent a considerable amount of time in churches and monasteries, Sandel Kratov knew these people's lives too well. At the same time, her surname allowed her to enjoy these things from the moment she was born.

She was nowhere near as rich as Randolph Taylor.

Her wealth is invisible, intangible, but real - she can't buy an entire newspaper as easily as buying a pack of cigarettes, but if she wants to make a statement, all the newspapers in London will cooperate with her.

"I'll move some for you... Roland. As you move up, sooner or later you'll have to learn to get along with those well-dressed losers... If you don't make a few comments on the spot, those spineless people will 'praise' you behind your back."

"Move some."
-
Yeah, that's a terrible word.

"Sandy, I'm hungry."

Roland: ...

"I have no interest in wine, Chandel. I think there is no need for anesthesia—"

Shandel said affectionately: "You had no interest in fighting me before."
"They can all be cultivated. They can all be cultivated."
-
Too much crap wrench.

"Oh, you're not going to hit me, are you?"

Roland: ...

(End of this chapter)