The Secret Code of Monsters.

Chapter 522 Silver Butterfly in the Dense Forest

Chapter 522: Silver Butterfly in the Forest
midnight.

Roland and Shandel chatted with each other for about half an hour before the stupid thief dug a not-so-deep pit - it was indeed impossible to reach the rich man's cemetery.

Not to mention the gravekeepers there, it can't even open the locked tombs.

'We follow.'

Roland bent down, and he and Shandel fell behind it not far away - the shadow was holding a newly dug baby corpse, stumbling all the way in the fog, passing through the cemetery and coming to the fence at the edge.

A hole that was cut open by an iron clamp at some unknown time.

This is for tomb robbers to enter and exit, and it should be the traces left by a group of people a long time ago.

Found by a stupid thief.

Roland and Shandel followed it, crawled out of the cemetery through the broken fence, and headed towards the dense forest in the suburbs.

The night fog is thicker.

The humid water vapor and the dust in the air stuck to the exposed skin, gradually forming a thick, sticky layer.

The crooked dead branches that died in the winter looked like shadowy ghosts. Apart from the rustling sound of bushes pushing against trouser legs, the cries of a few crows could be heard from time to time in the deep forest.

No one would say this is hell, but if you say this is the dark road leading to hell, I'm afraid many people would agree - there are many such woods outside London, but no robber would try to hide here after stealing and killing people.

They are also afraid of ghosts.

Roland walked in front with his back bent, and Shandel followed his man behind.

Sometimes I looked at his neck, sometimes at his buttocks, sometimes at his forearms, wrists and his clean, slender fingers.

And the black hair tied with gray satin, hanging down her back with a very abstinent look.

She was like a vicious cat quietly following her owner, lured by the hair that was like a cat toy, chasing it all the way until her paws were completely worn out.

Shandel pressed the tip of his tongue with his index finger and laughed silently.

The things flowing in her body and filling her soul always made her dislike many people and things, and she always wanted to break them so that they could never be repaired or go back - but if she fell in love with something, her blood and soul would urge her on as well, and even more violently.

They hoped that she would destroy herself as quickly as she had destroyed others.

She couldn't explain what the feeling was like, and couldn't tell her like a teacher whether it was better to use a needle or crazier to use a stick.

But she knew it clearly.

This is a feeling that the Father of All Things cannot give you.

Her kindhearted, self-sacrificing mother couldn’t give it to her, nor could her foolish father who buried his head in the pond to learn how to fish, nor could her grandfather, the saintly child who tried to steal her underpants and then repented and committed suicide…

The little animals in the East District can't give it either.

This feeling…

Shandel reached out and scratched Roland's back.

'Only you can give it to me.'

The gray-haired girl walks in the shadows, and follows the man with the sun in his eyes.

suddenly.

The footsteps ahead stopped.

Roland pulled Shandel and hid behind a tree.

The staggering thief held the corpse in his arms, pushed aside the messy bushes, and crawled through some fallen dead trees.

——In front of us is a house with only half of it left.

Perhaps it was a simple wooden house built by a hunter as a temporary place to stay. The house was made entirely of wooden boards and iron pins, and Roland could imagine how it looked intact - such a house could not be used for living.

"The temporary resting place of the hunters."

Shandel came to the same conclusion as Roland.

"I'll keep an eye on it." Roland slowly pulled out his gun. "Go find Fernandez, Shandel. I'll keep an eye on it until you guys get here... Shandel?"

The sporadic crow's cry heralded the long silence of midnight.

Maybe a few, a dozen breaths.

Roland turned back with an indifferent expression.

Someone's teeth gleamed in the moonlight.

Half of her face was hidden in the shadows, and her blue eyes, shedding rancid tears in the darkness, gave her a gaze that could silence the wind and the crows.

In the dead silence, a pair of hands stretched out from the darkness.

She held the man's face.

"My doom, my disaster, my shame..."

She kissed him gently.

"My happiness."

For a moment, Shandel saw a fire solidified into a cone in Roland's ever-boiling, blazing eyes.

This fire could kill her, or the grass behind her, the dead trees, the graveyard, split half of London, and make all good and evil fall into endless wailing - this is it...

Dear.

This is it.

This is the kind of you I want.

A woman who meets her master trembles in fear, trembles in the night dew, granite or electrified metal cannot give her happiness, but some people can do it with just a look.

She even thought of boiling her own bones clean, breaking them, and grinding them by hand into a fine, white and soft seasoning as salt, and sprinkling them into the hungry mouths of Rose or Enid.

then.

When Roland calls upon the Benefactor together with them, he can feel his true self with his tenderest skin...

She would boil with his white blood, rush into the beginning of the catastrophe, and melt into a savage, ignorant soul.

She would not be born, and would rot and stink inch by inch in this soft swaddling clothes of disaster, listening to the owner of this body complaining and wailing, and listening to her begging ten thousand gods to save her flesh and blood.

Just like the monarch who built the guillotine with his own hands sang before his death:
'My people love me.'

Xiandel looked at Roland quietly, and in his arms, let him wipe the blood from his lips with his fingers.

'Your Chandel loves you too.'

She whispered a prayer.

No believer of the All-Father would pray at night. But does the All-Father know that there are also two suns that burn forever at night?

The young girl and the man embraced each other, quietly embracing each other as the crow song sounded again.

Because the souls of the two madmen understood each other, and had touched and shown each other their own rotten parts - for such a pair of harmonious and terrifying souls, their ending would be either to destroy themselves or others.

Monsters can't live in peace.

"I should have brought a whip, shouldn't I?"

Noticing that the girl in his arms had finally calmed down and stopped trembling, Roland lifted her chin in the moonlight.

Those ocean-blue eyes were filled with satisfaction.

She is full.

"You always carry it with you." Shandel gently pushed the man away, touched his bitten mouth, and chuckled: "But you are so stingy to use it... Roland."

She put her finger on the muzzle of Roland's gun. "You don't need it, do you? You don't need it, and you don't need Fernandez de Vinson—it's better to have a smart lover than a stupid thief... You see, I didn't ask along the way."

"Let me stay with you."

Shandel brushed the grass debris off the man's shoulders and said with a smile, "My Roland, my leader."

she says.

"Why do you always want to get rid of me? Am I not as good as that thief who has nothing?"

Roland raised his eyebrows: "I won't let you say that about the kind person who helped me with my homework."

Shandel's eyes sparkled, "So it's too good, so it's too bad, right?"

She rolled her eyes, her delicate face like a resurrected doll, making people feel cold: "You know me, so... you are worried that I will kill her, right?"

Shandel looked at the old house in the forest that was half collapsed.

"I did. I was going to do it when you walked in and called out her name—bang!" She made a gun gesture, like a sparrow that had just learned to fly, with her hands behind her back, and took imitative steps beside Roland. "How miserable should you be? How miserable should I be?"

"One bullet. Roland, don't you want to experience a real, soul-shaking—"

Bang.

She was strangled by the neck and pressed roughly against the tree trunk.

The golden flames flowed in those approaching eyes, becoming increasingly viscous.

Time seems to stand still.

"We know each other well, Shandel. I can say that few people know you better than I do, and few people know me better than you do."

The girl was lifted upwards.

Upward and upward again.

She couldn't break free.

It was flesh and blood that had been bathed twice in the Sword of Judgment, and a body flowing with the blood of an ancient alien species.

These powers could allow the owner of this body to easily punch through walls and tear apart steel. Of course, they could also crush her neck, allowing their fingers to crush the skin, muscles, and blood vessels, and remove the cartilage in her throat mixed with the slippery blood.

easy.

"You can kill anyone. Your parents, Grandpa, my uncle, Rose. If you want, you can also try to kill our queen."

Roland stared quietly at her flushed face, her increasingly bright smile, and her limbs that began to tremble uncontrollably.

"But Shandel."

Roland slowly moved closer and pressed his forehead against hers.

"But Shandel, the Winged One."

Roland said softly.

"We talked about this before. When you're still a member, you'd better listen to me."

"I mean…"

"most."

The cold breath on the girl's face was like a stream of air that fueled the madness, shaking it along and bringing a torrential downpour to the dry forest on the outskirts of London.

then.

The man with calm eyes loosened his hand.

The one who fell staggered a few steps, fell into the grass, covered his neck and raised his head.

A smile that almost tore the corners of his mouth apart.

"If you keep treating me like this, I will always listen to you... Roland."

She activated the "Secret", and the bruises on her neck melted away rapidly like ice and snow under the scorching sun.

"My disaster and my joy..."

The girl mumbled, savored the memory, and begged him to, must, must keep this side for her.

Begging him to keep it for himself forever.

Don't lose it.

"This quirk is too scary."

You know what the scariest thing is.