The Secret Code of Monsters.

Chapter 560 Ch.559 Good Dog

'In three days, Mason Lyle will be taken away.'

'oh? ’

'Cultists?'

'Have you never seen men hanged or burned? Have you never heard the sweet sizzle of grease in the flames?'

"Roland? Friend? Haha..."

Halida will never forget that face with that hideous smile.

In countless dark moments.

The woman who frightened her did have something about her that should be feared.

She is a lunatic.

A natural born freak.

"When I was a kid, I had a horse, a not very obedient horse - my father said that if a strong horse is tamed, it can become the owner's best friend, allowing you to ride it as you please."

"Yes, Halida, look at my status, how could there be no excellent horse trainer to serve me?"

'Whip, whistle, fasting, company. With cold and tender...what is the difference between a horse and a man?'

she says.

'Of course I tamed that horse...'

'but…'

'The day it let me touch it, the day it opened its heart to me, I stabbed it in the belly with a sharpened iron awl.'

'It's almost crazy! It must be thinking: Why? Why? Why?!'

'oops…'

'Just like you.'

Shandel's voice echoed clearly in Halida's ears. The gentle but cold breath seemed to be blowing on her ears again and again, going into her head, and making her shiver uncontrollably.

'I will never have any friends, Halida.'

'What kind of friend is Roland Collins?'

'He is my Master, my Father, my Grace...'

she says.

'It is also my hell, my enemies, and my corpse.'

Shandel stared at the empty walls of the room, stroked Halida's finally smooth black hair, and let her lie on his legs, like a well-behaved dog accompanying her master to warm himself by the fire.

She told Halida.

He did not have to slaughter live sheep himself and wash his feet with their blood. He did not have to find a hundred slave girls and use their skin to sew beds and their bones to build chairs.

As long as there was Cinder Kratov in the room, there was no need for a silent, incompetent commode.

As long as he is willing, there are countless people willing to endure his so-called wrath and joy.

Whether it is joy in pain or pain in joy.

Like pouring Serin or something into your mouth.

If he said it made her clean, then she was clean; if he said it made her give birth, then she gave birth.

Believers should unconditionally satisfy and believe in everything God wants.

if only…

As long as he always is.

Shandel's soft hand, as gentle as the wind, touched the hound's trembling neck, moving like a knife on her arteries, on her channels that carried the crimson spiritual fluid filled with fear, cowardice and weakness.

This undoubtedly awakened the deepest fear and awe of death in the ancient blood of mankind.

she says.

The flapping white bird is a symbol of freedom.

But they also poop randomly.

And if a soul longing for the sea sees a dry and cracked land...

She wouldn't plant roses on it.

'It's like he chose you.'

Those originally beautiful eyes were now filled with blue blood.

They were swollen and inflated, almost bursting from their eye sockets.

'Is he always right?'

'still…'

'Disappointing?'

"If that's the case... he is no longer my God's grace..."

Halida did not understand the meaning of these words.

But she knew.

Shandel Kratov is a real lunatic.

She would harm Mr. Collins.

She would stand by and watch as some people took the leader away, and then wait for him to reveal the identity of the "cultist"...

Halida didn't know who would determine who was a "heretic", but she knew that once Mr. Collins was branded as a "heretic", he would be burned to death.

How could Halida allow anyone to harm her husband, the man who brought her light in the dark night?

then…

crunch.

The key turned the iron door.

A flickering flame illuminated the dim face.

Mason Lyle was sitting in the corner. He raised his head lazily and happened to meet those silver eyes.

The tight and powerful body was quietly shrouded in darkness.

In this dead silent cage, Mason Lyle suddenly saw hope...maybe it was for both of them.

Halida.

His child, his black-skinned slave, his dear, beloved, and forever missed little beauty...

Halida.

Mason Lyle couldn't believe it. He rubbed his eyes and his sore thighs and buttocks, and rolled and crawled!

"Halida?!"

He called again.

as usual.

The girl shrank her neck timidly and stammered in response.

"…Sir."

The hammer in Mason Lyle's heart fell to the ground, making a loud trumpet sound: blowing freedom.

"Come on! Oh, kid, I haven't seen you for a long time..." He rubbed his hands, his handsome but old face still had the fake smile of the past: "Come on! You are here to see me, right?"

He grasped Halida's wrist like a master and enthusiastically led her into his 'house'.

then.

As her eyelashes fluttered, she greedily glanced at the key hanging at her waist.

"Mr. First..."

"Oh, I'm so sorry about your brother. You know, I've always treated you as my own children. Isn't that right? I've been very kind to you, giving you food and drink, and even building many tents to keep you warm in the winter and out of the sun in the summer. Is there anyone better than me in the world?"

"I really don't know why these black crows are holding on to me and accusing me of murdering someone."

"Kid, do you know that... Morris? Is that his name? Can you say something for me? Considering that I have taken care of you in the past... I have never--"

"Sir!" Halida suddenly raised her voice, interrupting Mason Lyle's muttering.

She stared, and her heart began to pound as she looked at him.

"Mr. Collins's... identity..." Her knuckles turned white, and a few thin tendons in her neck were faintly tense: "Can't... can't tell... others..."

Mason Lyle was stunned at first, then he rolled his eyes quickly.

What...can’t tell anyone?
Does that man have another identity?

"Ah, yes, that's right. Of course I know. I've known for a long time that Collins... has an 'identity'. I know, I know it very well." He coughed a few times and circled around Halida: "I always have good intentions and don't want to make these things clear. In my eyes, you are all children..."

He spoke slower and slower, and his steps became lighter and lighter...

until.

He tore the thin rope around his waist and snatched the key!

This frightened Halida, and she shouted in panic to stop him: "You can't! Lai...! Laier... Woof!"

She started barking again.

Mason Lyle was delighted.

Yeah, that's right.

He had figured it out these days.

Except for the meals once every two days, there was no one guarding the place. As long as you had the key, you could sneak in, get out, and walk out at night when there were few people around and when there were no strangers around.

Get on a carriage, hum a song, and leave the city happily.

As long as you have the key...

what!
This stupid woman really delivered it!!

Mason Lyle's smile kept twisting inward in Halida's eyes, and soon it turned into a piece of minced meat that flowed inward.

"Damn it... Why do you think I asked you to do this?! Bitch! You hooked up with a big shot, didn't you?! You think I don't know your little tricks?! Why didn't I see it earlier... You are my child... How can you just... "

The sound became increasingly harsh.

The breathing became more and more rapid.

Halida stepped back in horror.

Keep retreating.

He knocked over the oil lamp and ink bottle on the table and tried to hide himself in the corner.

back.

What she does best.

She felt like she had turned into a monster that couldn't see the world clearly or hear any sounds, and everything around her gradually became hazy and psychedelic.

'Our fears are singing sweetly...'

Who is speaking?

'Accept me...'

'Kill me...'

Who, who is talking?!
She looked at the man approaching little by little, listened to his roar, the dirty words he uttered as if to vent, the palm of his hand reaching for her collar, and the flesh and blood that was oozing red juice...

She knew what he wanted to do.

But she could do nothing.

The voice in my head became clearer and clearer, like a whisper in my ear, melting my skull.

'The storm is coming, the rain is pouring...'

Someone is singing.

'Kiss me...'

'Fear me!'

She was strangled by the throat and pushed against the wall, close enough to smell the sickening stench of decay emanating from Mason Lyle's mouth.

She suffocated.

She is dying...

but.

Halida couldn't care less.

The storm roaring in her head was embracing her soul, kissing her cheek, pulling her wrist, leading her to dance in the air, pointing to the path with dense pine branches, and whispering like the wind:

'Face it, fear it, love it.'

'Let it destroy you, or you destroy it.'

'Ha, Li, Da.'

Halida...?
She felt like she was back in those dark but free days.

Chewing beetles, shouting instead of speaking, and traveling through the dense woods and shadows.

Those were days of joy, fear, pain and freedom...

Barefoot, with tooth and claw.

The world lay lazily before her in its most primitive form, within her reach...

'How do you like it?'

The cheetah dissolved into the darkness slowly raised its head.

like.

It's awesome.

Amid the horrified gaze, the woman slowly raised her head.

She grew claws and fangs.

A series of low growls that were not human came from the hoarse throat.

There was molten silver flowing in her eyes, as if teaching people to look into the empty and cold silver moon, and the yarn of a piece of clothing that had been woven but not yet untied would drip from the thread ends and fall through the eyeballs.

'Use it or not... my blade shall always bleed.'

Ten fingers spread out and grasped Mason Lyle's face tightly.

Even if he pushed with his hands, hit with his fists, and kicked with his feet.

The sharp edge born for hunting will grind the skin into minced meat inch by inch, tear the muscles and hook the bones along the way.

Shandel stood quietly in the shadows.

listen.

Watch.

The incessant sounds of gnawing and biting made the straight lips curl up like a crescent moon supported by the stars.

This flesh-colored decoration, which is usually pinned on the leather, is beautiful and makes people like it. At this moment, it truly expresses the owner's mood.

Extremely satisfied.

A wonderful, unforgettable scent surrounds the roaring beast in the cage, and the rations that have been fed for many days and chewed into flocs, but are still wailing and begging for mercy.

Impact: Fear

Impact: Anger

"Influence: Sacrifice"

"Influence: Fanaticism"

"Influence: Bloody Vengeance"

Shandel tapped his toes, humming a song, and disappeared into the darkness again.

"Good dog...good dog..."

"The master has a good dog..."

(End of this chapter)