The Secret Code of Monsters.

Chapter 533 Ch.532 Some Past Part

blood.

A letter opener stabbed into the neck.

Short saw.

Some tissue fluid.

A lump of internal organs that is too slippery to hold.

A calf with an uneven cut.

Mason Lyle covered in blood.

A crystal bottle containing a fairy.

The only sounds in the tent were heavy, rapid breathing and the shrill, terrifying laughter coming from the bottle.

Damn...

She deserves to die!
That's my circus!
mine!

No one can take away what belongs to me!

A pound! A shilling! Not a penny!

Mason Lyle heard the woman's name, held his head high, and ordered himself to get out of the circus before tomorrow...

then.

He didn't remember anything.

Or, remember every detail very clearly.

I remember the fear on the woman's face, her pleas for mercy, and her struggle.

"This is what happens..." He wiped the blood off his face and muttered, "No one can take what's mine..."

The genie in the bottle licked his lips.

"I..." Mason Lyle looked down at his bloody palm.

Every gap between his nails was filled with pulp. It was as if he had pried out her teeth with pliers and torn her gums with his nails.

He seems...

What did he do?
The Benefactor is above...

Mason Lyle covered his face and sobbed in the blood and mud.

Fear cut through his heart, waking the furious man like a knife.

What did he do?
he…

kill people.

Killed a woman who might have an unusual background.

She had no servants with her.

That's why he's still sitting here instead of in a cell.

what do I do…

Mason Lyle turned his head suddenly and looked at the narrow bottle on the table.

The monster inside seemed to be waiting for him.

'…I can't die.'

He took a few deep breaths and forced himself to calm down - Mason Lyle, you've encountered storms before, and you've survived every time.

Your destiny is destined to be extraordinary.

"I can't die." He rubbed his face and stepped on the soft and slippery internal organs. "I can't die."

He said.

'Tell me how to survive... I know you can.'

Goblin: 'Another deal, huh?'

'One more, one more! Any more will do! Tell me now! I must not die! I must not let the police catch me!'

The goblin was a little embarrassed: "Look. She came to you, maybe she had already told her friends or relatives... Even if there were no servants, she disappeared from your circus and could never be concealed - well, if she didn't tell anyone... Mason Lyle, do you think you can hide?"

Mason Lyle shook his head slowly.

It's just a matter of time.

If the woman is a widow, the police can also find him through the bank transaction records.

He thought he was a tough guy, but even a tough guy couldn't stand the tricks of those black people...

He cannot die.

'Think of a way!'

Mason Lyle growled. His handsome face now looked extremely mean and ferocious: "Think of a way! You said it! We can trade! I'll give it all to you! I'll give it to you..."

The goblin grinned, revealing a mouthful of sharp teeth.

"Okay, human."

it says.

'I can do you a favor... Um... Have you heard of the Ritualist?'

Mason Lyle was at a loss.

The goblin replies: 'Witch.'

He finally nodded.

"You're not talking about the kind of gypsy witch who wears a colorful patchwork robe, a peacock feather on her head, and a face full of paint...right?" Mason Lyle probed: "I heard that some big shots seem to be able to cast "spells"..."

'This is real? '

The goblin smiled and said, "Of course, Mason Lyle. It does exist... yes, witchcraft does exist."

The man couldn't believe it.

But...what does this have to do with me?
"If you master this power, someone will be able to forgive your 'manslaughter'..." The goblin approached the bottle wall, and the curved bottle body twisted its already terrifying face even more weirdly: "Want to take a gamble?"

it says.

'The power you gain after transcending the ordinary is enough for you to find a person or organization to protect you. Mason Lyle, do you want to take a chance?'

The goblin pointed at himself.

'You see. Although I am greedy, hateful, and have no conscience. But I never lie, and I never break my promises - you make a wish, I fulfill it, and take the transaction...'

'Is it right?'

Malice slowly spread in its eyes.

Mason Lyle exhaled an animal breath, raised the bottle to his eyes, and said uncertainly: "How can you guarantee that I can learn magic?"

'I can guarantee it with my own soul.' It said: 'As long as you complete a "ritual" as I say, you will have the opportunity to touch the "code"... Of course, you must ensure that you stay within the scope of the ritual - this tent.'

Mason Lyle stared at the bottle. 'Soul, eh?'

"Of course." The fairy nodded with satisfaction: "That's of no use to you. I guarantee that after the ritual is completed, there will definitely be a chance in the ritual... Oh, maybe it won't work once, you can try a few more times."

it says.

'You seem to have many "children."

The goblin urged.

'Want to take a chance? Before they realize someone's missing and come knocking on your door... maybe you can leave London and become a fugitive.'

'Or, transcendence. Isn't this what you're waiting for?'

'Don't you think this path is easier to succeed than 'circus owner'? '

He can't be a fugitive.

Because this means that everything he has worked for all these years will be wiped out.

Mason Lyle didn't have a choice.

But he had an inexplicable confidence in his heart.

He believed that he would be able to successfully survive this crisis just like he had avoided the rats that year.

He cannot give his wealth to others...

Absolutely not.

So do goblins.

That's all his!
his!

'Tell me what I should do.'

The goblin raised his sharp nails and tapped his head: "The ritual requires a crazy soul... In addition to other materials, this is an important part... Of course, none of them are as important as me."

"Because that is a ritual that only fairies can use."

Crazy...

soul?

Mason Lyle has been praying for years and is no stranger to the word "soul."

but…

It would be difficult for him to say that he believed in the existence of the "soul".

Something that cannot be seen or touched.

It was far inferior to gold pounds - at least gold pounds could buy souls, but souls could not be bought the other way around.

"Yes, yes, it's hard to make you mortals understand what the soul is." The goblin blinked: "But it's easier to do business."

Mason Lyle frowned: 'Tell me, monster. I don't have much time...'

'Make one.'

it answered.

'Make one yourself. The ritual requires this kind of "influence."

The goblin told Mason Lyle that creatures like humans are naturally capable of creating crazy souls.

It’s just that some people don’t realize they have such ability.

'You are born with it...everyone has it.'

The goblin's voice echoed in his ears like an evil whisper.

Make a...

Crazy soul.

crazy?

When Halida squatted in front of the pipe to wash her face, Mr. Sulley, who had just wiped his butt, just came out from behind the tent.

The Baudelli sisters were bringing out a round target to test their darts.

It was cold in the early morning.

Mr. Mason Lyle got up unusually early and came out of the tent at the same time as them.

This is not common.

"Good day, sir!"

"Good day, father!"

"Come here, sir! I'll spread a blanket for you!"

The circus members were greeting each other in twos and threes.

Mason Lyle gave the children a tolerant and gentle smile.

then.

Walk straight towards Halida.

(End of this chapter)