The Secret Code of Monsters.

Chapter 578 Ch.577 Golden Blood

Roland was not surprised to hear the word from Randolph.

Mystical organ.

Because he was looking for this thing, in order to complete his three-ring ritual - and he was very familiar with the Taylor family's ritualist: the tall, square-jawed man who was responsible for protecting Randolph.

So it was normal for Randolph to know about this.

"Yes, I need the mystical organ... No, I should say that any ritualist needs it."

Randolph stretched his neck left and right. "Like a gold pound to a businessman?"

"everyone."

Roland explained to him the true function of the "Mystical Organ" and how rare it was.

Randolph had heard about this from the ritualists at home before, but he was still surprised that this "disgusting" creation contained such enormous power: his ritualist told him that a secret organ could allow a person to command thunder, rebuke storms, make the night bright, and make the waves bow down.

This really exceeded his imagination of 'mystery'.

"Is this true, or exaggerated? We often use this method."

For example, the recent promotion of the "Fountain of Youth".

"I'm not exaggerating, Randolph. Mystical organs really do work like this."

Randolph shrugged. "It would be nice if you had it. It would open my eyes."

Roland did have it, but he couldn't show it to Randolph: not to mention his eyes, his blood could drive away evil spirits and make his body...

How does this 'open your eyes'?
"Show it to his sister... in his presence."
-
You think I'm too brave.

"If you really want to see it, I have an idea." Roland looked at the desk, pushed aside a pile of documents with his fingers, took out the silver-handled letter opener, gestured twice, and gently wiped his index finger when Randolph seemed to be hesitant to speak.

A shallow mark was left on the fingertips.

Randolph: ...

The embarrassed Mr. Alien coughed twice, leaving a gap between his fingertips and the blade, increased his strength, and pressed down again.

Then, the letter opener broke.

Randolph: ...

"This knife was given to my father by Theresa, Roland." Randolph said helplessly, "Theresa will nag me for half a year."

Roland: "...I thought you were worried about my fingers just now."

Randolph smiled: "Why should I worry about your finger? If you were stupid enough to cut off your finger, wouldn't you just get treated with Betty?"

The display ended with the death of a letter opener.

Later Randolph opened the door and asked the servant for a sharpened boning knife.

This was considered a "cut" on Roland's finger: a small cut.

A drop of golden blood emerged.

Compared to any storm or thunder, this is quite shocking.

This is golden blood.

Golden.

"Mystical organ, a powerful 'power' that every ritualist is pursuing."

"This matches your eyes quite well," Randolph stared at the golden blood bead and murmured, "What... does it do?"

"Same as holy water, Randolph."

"You mean-"

"Yes, it may be more powerful than holy water."

When Roland finished saying this, he suddenly realized that Randolph's eyes were looking at him a little strangely.

"Roland," Randolph turned his eyes away, handed him a new handkerchief, and said hesitantly: "You know that the Fountain of Youth is our common cause, right?"

Roland:?
"You see, we've been advertising everywhere that the Fountain of Youth has the power to expel filth. To some extent, it can even be considered a 'weakened version' of holy water..." Randolph rubbed his hands back and forth, his narrow eyes gleaming with brilliant golden light.

Anyone could tell what he was planning.

Damn businessmen.

“There’s no way I’m going to cut my fingers and spend hours every day milking a perfume bottle.”

"No, of course not! You can keep it in the bottle, and the workers will mix it all! I'll tell them that this is mixed with highly concentrated holy water from the church... What do you think? Wait, wait a minute. If there is your blood, our perfume will really have the effect of exorcising evil spirits..."

The businessman scratched his neck, flipped through the mess of papers, found a pen and scribbled on them. All were numbers.

"…I need to calculate. The price of holy water doesn't fluctuate much, but getting it requires more than just money and identity. Everyone has a certain quota every month - that is to say, we actually have a -"

The more he calculated, the more excited he became. His pale face turned red unnaturally, and his eyes were filled with chilling greed, like a hungry beast seeing blood.

then.

The tip of the pen drew a long blue line on the paper.

With a creaking pause, his 'excitement' came to an abrupt end like ink.

He visibly lost his energy, as if the high spirits he had just experienced were just an unrealistic dream.

The man threw down his pen, covered his face, and rubbed it vigorously several times.

He slumped in his chair and let out a long sigh.

"Forget it, Roland."

Roland had no idea what he was so excited about: "You should also go and see Mr. Snow."

Randolph rolled his eyes and said in a dull tone: "It would be a great thing, but guess what? We can't do this job."

Randolph certainly knew what the perfume dripping with Roland's blood meant and how valuable it was.

He was not blinded by greed.

He knew that once he did this, it would inevitably lead to a problem:
People who buy perfume are always lucky enough to "actually experience" the magic. And when these customers realize that the perfume of "Fountain of Youth" is more powerful than holy water...

Guess what Holy Cross will do.

This is suicide.

Randolph does not think that "the Inquisition supports the Fountain of Youth" means "the Inquisition is willing to go against the Church for the Fountain of Youth" - these are two different things.

Roland's blood is very precious, or to put it bluntly, it's worth a lot of money.

But Randolph couldn't use it to gain benefits for them. He even stared at Roland seriously and warned him.

A mortal, warning the ritualist.

"Don't tell anyone about your blood again, Roland."

In order to let Roland know that he was serious, he threw the cigar into the teacup. After a "hiss", he put his hands on the table, half stood up and leaned forward, and said in a cold voice: "Don't tell anyone."

"Do you know what your blood means?"

"This is equivalent to usurping the authority of the church to a certain extent - do you understand? The most frightening thing is the ghost, those erratic shadows that stare at you in the dark."

And once Roland's blood can have the same effect as holy water, even if it is weaker...

Randolph could not say for sure whether Holy Cross would cost him his life.

But he guaranteed that these London lords would make Roland's life a living hell.

There is a 'quota' for holy water.

Each believer must donate a certain amount of money to receive a small portion every month. If you are not eligible and are not willing to donate money every day for years, then please pray that the thing staring at you is not too vicious and that the monks of the church can arrive in time.

And not greedy.

Once the "Fountain of Youth" appears on the market...

"You shouldn't have told me! Roland Collins! You're a blind fool! You shouldn't have told me such a big secret—"

Randolph's thinking only stays on the mortal side.

This blood will of course have very serious effects, but it will create a tsunami on the mystical side even more than in the mortal world.

Roland glanced at the blue torches greased by tenderness and bent his neck hard: "I should keep it in my stomach and wait for the right time to tell my important friend, brother, and then listen to him talking about me all night long like Theresa."

Randolph: ...

"Fuck you, Roland, I'm serious."

He was furious when he saw Roland's stupid look of "I'm going to try to stick my ears to my shoulders".

Roland was competing with Beatrice just now.

He won.
-
You see, I don't move my shoulders, but my neck is soft and I can still keep my ears pressed firmly.
-
Does it look like a snake?

“Like a physicist.”

(End of this chapter)