The Secret Code of Monsters.

Chapter 561: Enid's Thoughts
A horseshoe.

A suit of armor tinged with history.

A handful of bloody impact.

A hard-earned promotion ceremony.

An apprentice who stood out.

A ritualist.

Boiling water that melted silver and iron poured down on her head, and the cold water droplets threaded through her hair and slid across the girl's trembling flesh.

She wasn't in the ox-leg bathtub, covered in delicate, fragrant, colored foam, with one maid humming a lullaby while another carried a dressing box, waiting to paint the feathers of the preening bird.

The barefoot brown-skinned girl tiptoed through the woodpile that was emitting smoky black smoke, passing by wooden bowls filled with chickpeas and corpses whose internal organs had been crushed out of their mouths by wheels.

Her footprints left no trace on the marble floor, no trace in the mud and blood.

They say, 'Save me! I'm dying!'

She leaves no trace.

They said, 'Turn around! Look at the misery you have created!'

She leaves no trace.

The silver molten iron wrapped around the paper-thin skin and flesh, and vaguely, one seemed to see the soldiers who had worn it and marched toward the battlefield, or fled from the battlefield in history.

It is the mad product of the kiss of courage and fear, with the stink in hiking boots, the rotten smell under the skirt, the fear on the edge of a robbery knife, and the madness in the shaking of a rope.

She lets people call her whatever they want.

Fear, or the lack of fear.

She will become the weapon itself.

No matter who you serve.

Every path she walks on will be the final chapter of conflict.

The silver-eyed girl hugged herself and stood quietly in the smoke-filled ceremony.

She was soaked.

Flesh and soul.

She looked through the moss-covered black hair and quietly stared at the man waiting for the ceremony, trying to wrap the honey-colored amber with flowing hot silver.

She wanted conquest and war, and longed to vent her rage in a roar.

She froze like that and ran headfirst into the enemy's sight.

then.

Surrender willingly.

It was her anchor and her calm, a feeling as constant and lasting as a shroud that does not spare a mummy after being humiliated.

They both have glass eyes.

One is a horse and the other is a whip.

What a match made in heaven!

Halida smiled timidly, crossing her two slender big toes, and played the role of "you lean on me, I lean on you" as if inferiority and fear were rubbing her heart.

then.

Waiting for Roland to spread his wings and cover her with a warm blanket.

She carefully hunched her shoulders, took the opportunity to move half a step closer to the man's arms, and immediately stared at the gray-haired girl who was flipping through a book nearby.

She saw that her attention was completely on the paper.

then.

The butterflies on the Silver Lake flapped their wings happily.

"Welcome to the world of the Ritualist, Halida."

She listened to him.

but.

should be…

Welcome to your world.

Mr. Collins.

so…

It's even better.

…………

……

Title: Superman (One Ring/Iron Knight Road)

Type: Hands of Dispute/Shadow Net/God of Fury and Killing

[Description]: In the scars and cracks, I listened to the endless disputes. Just as the name suggests.

When the students who pushed open the door of the "Iron Cavalry" entered the first ring, they could no longer be called "mortals" in all aspects.

The ritualist's physical fitness will be greatly improved, gaining extraordinary self-healing ability and endurance.

At the same time, their innate fighting talent will be lifted high by the mysterious waves like pearls. Perhaps without long training, they will be able to easily win the battle, and before death arrives, they will show the desperate talent born in their flesh and blood and soul countless times.

——Since they opened their eyes, they knew how to use everything around them to kill their enemies.

of course.

These warlike wretches, the miserable ones who are constantly fighting against their own split, mixed souls... Only they know how weak and pathetic the hearts of the madmen in the eyes of the enemy are...

Unfortunately.

There's nothing they can do about it.

……

…………

"so."

"Mason Lyle is still dead."

Enid Office——

The presiding judge, with an expression that looked like "What did I say?", held his chin in his hand and tapped the floor with his toes from time to time.

She had already warned Roland in advance.

Obviously.

Her 'brother' still didn't know Cinder Kratov well enough - this was not a good thing.

Two reasons.

First of all, this "former Saint Candidate" is not very normal in the head (although the ritualists are not very normal in the head), but she is particularly special:

On the path of "saints", the result of being too qualified means that they are cultivating a born bad seed who is not "mentally ill" but one who has long understood and identified the "truth" in his mind.

Not having a deep understanding can be dangerous.

Secondly, the lack of 'depth' also meant that Roland's relationship with her did not make much progress.

For her part, Enid would love to see something happen between Roland and Chandel.

Not to mention Shandel Kratov's own qualifications and future, the "Gary Kratov" behind her is a blind and irresistible force...

It was useless to her, but very useful to Roland.

Moreover, compared to letting a man in his prime be kidnapped by her "romantic subordinates" to go to the red-light district and find some dirty buckets that drip all day long and are not sure whether they are cleaned or not, Cinder Kratov is obviously more "clean" -

Forgive Enid Jutia for thinking and doing this.

Or maybe she doesn't need anyone's evaluation.

When asked about certain precious treasures, ritualists on the Path of the Holy Flame usually give similar answers.

as far as I can tell.

The only person who came into Enid Jutia's field of vision was Cinder Kratov.

(Of course, there were some non-ceremony candidates, but she didn't think those girls were worthy of her treasures—and their parents probably thought the same thing.)
As for Lillian Rose Vansittart…

She had heard an interesting story recently.

Maybe.

This is a good multiple choice.

But her background was too low and dirty, and even though she had a relatively good surname, Enid thought that she needed to observe her for a while longer in some aspects.

And then there is…

Now Roland was talking to her about this.

Halida.

A 'monster' who doesn't even have a surname, even more unacceptable than Lillian.

Where did she come from?
A monster in a circus should die in a circus.

Damn "fate".

If you can choose someone from velvet, you shouldn't just stare at the stuff in the mud.

"What are you going to do?" Enid stared at Roland with an inexplicable tone.

"Obviously, Halida is a buried genius." Roland had no idea what his gun-swallowing judge with varied skills was thinking, so he praised her generously: "She is more mysteriously favored than me. Enid, a natural ritualist like you shouldn't just be one person's maid."

What he said next really surprised Enid.

"In fact..."

"I want Halida to join the Inquisition."

Roland said softly.

(End of this chapter)