The Secret Code of Monsters.

Chapter 644 Ch.643 Golden Eyed Cat God
"The Silver Spindle was built in a miserable month. The great sun was setting, and the man, as miserable as the month, could not sleep for a long time."

"We must be more skilled than prostitutes, otherwise we will be as derelict in our duty as birds that cannot fly. We must have the innocence of sixteen, the maturity of twenty, the composure of thirty, the indifference of forty, the understanding of fifty, and the early acceptance of the call of death—"

The woman holding the candle tray is the only person in the house who can hold a light source.

Like other believers, she wore a long, thick robe and dragged herself along the wooden boards that were sometimes raised or missing.

Like a long snake with its trunk on fire.

then.

Pause behind someone.

"Why?"

She asked.

The hoarse voice made people feel uncomfortable, like a sharp knife cutting rusty iron.

"Why?"

she asked repeatedly.

"We worship the God of the Spindle, and will use that merciless power to create our own world with our own hands - a new world without pain and humiliation..."

She raised the candle tray slightly upward.

The flickering firelight illuminated every face under the hood: determination, fanaticism, suspicion, and fear.

The owner of the candlelight laughed silently.

Foolish people always act like this.

And when the unstoppable force sweeps in and destroys all the obstacles they fear, these people will become more fanatical than any devout person - what the lady said was right.

They are destined to succeed.

Although she could no longer remember the lady's appearance, name, month, or words she said...

But she knew that there must have been such a lady - maybe she died, sacrificed in the confrontation with the police; maybe she lost her courage and was executed by someone early...

Fuzzy memory.

That doesn't matter anymore.

"tell me."

"How can we make them afraid, terrified, so that they dare not even mention our name with their lips? Tell me, should we use a hammer or poisoned wine? A dagger or a rope..."

"When we ask for life, should we laugh or cry?"

She suddenly bent down and stared quietly at the profile of the silent woman in front of her.

"tell me."

she says.

"…Ma'am, I don't know…"

The 'believer' being stared at had a square face with straight lines and spoke with a strong nasal tone and a northern accent.

"Country girl," the woman holding the candle slowly turned her head with the help of the flame, her eyes swept over each woman at the round table one by one, "I heard a piece of news."

She slid her fingers across the back of the chair, one finger after another.

She came to the back of another chair and leaned over again:

"Someone betrayed us."

She leaned over the woman's ear, almost biting off her earlobe through her hood: "Who is it, Alan?"

The woman named Ellen shuddered.

"…I, I don't know, Master Carlo."

"Yeah, even though someone told me that a group of police officers were in your house for an hour - you can still say 'I don't know', right?"

Alan was horrified.

She raised her head slightly, and her eyes hidden in the hood looked helplessly at the people in black robes at the round table.

Those who used to have intimate conversations with her now remained silent.

The terrifying silence made Ellen's senses extremely sensitive - she had never been more terrified than she was now, especially when that hand went around her neck, strangled her, and began to tighten little by little.

She was isolated from the round table and fell into a trap filled with giant pythons.

They wrapped around her, trying to squeeze her until she became one with the chair.

“I didn’t say anything!!”

"Master Carlo! They beat me! But I didn't do anything—"

She began to scream and struggle.

He slapped the arm that was free of any gap with both hands, and slammed the table hard.

Her legs kicked wildly like a drowning child, as if this could force her body to get out of the strong armband - she felt the thing on her neck getting heavier and heavier, and bubbles like frog eggs came out of her lungs.

The hood fell, and the firelight illuminated her wounded face. The followers of the Silver Spindle remained silent.

Some of them were excited, some were afraid, and some had all kinds of unknown thoughts in their hearts - but they all remained silent to respect the unchangeable judgment from the divine agent.

"The blood of our compatriots is a shame."

"But the spindle never shows mercy to the betrayers..."

half an hour.

Carlo slowly untied his arms.

What was left behind was a body that no longer struggled, a chair that continued to drip, and a floor that had endured a bloodless death in detail.

Just like a death row prisoner waiting for hanging or shooting, this "bloodless trial" simply compresses the fear of the sinner before death, and displays it vividly and unequivocally within thirty seconds.

"Let us not engage in meaningless debates, let us not ask who will recognize our contributions - my sisters, my compatriots, my closest church members."

Carlo walked around the limp body; the sound of his leather boots and the floor extinguished the fire in the room, inviting the audience back into the white winter when everything was withering.

"What do we rely on?"

She asked.

Tonight, questions represent terror.

"Blade and poison."

A woman answered in a low voice.

"What do we rely on?"

Carlo was not satisfied and went through the questions again.

"Blade and poison."

This time, more people responded.

she asked for the third time.

In addition to getting a louder response, a discordant noise appeared in the ensemble -

"We rely on swords and poison!" the believers whispered in unison.

"Of course it depends on men."

A discordant murmur arose.

For a moment, almost all the believers felt the freezing coldness of their hearts: they were worried that it was their own "compatriots" who spoke such outrageous words, and they were afraid that there would be one more corpse tonight - and perhaps even more people would be implicated...

For example, themselves.

everyone.

The good news is that they don't have to worry: before the crisp sound that pierced the trembling of this last night, Carlo was the first to discover the "unnatural" thing in the room - the curtains were slightly opened.

Half of the green eye was looking at them curiously.

——The visitor approached the windowsill silently, lifted the window upwards, climbed in, and listened to an interesting conversation.

This series of actions did not go unnoticed by anyone in the room.

"who are you?"

"Why does everyone start their conversation like this?" The curly-haired girl sat on the windowsill, her high leather boots tapping against the wall. "Who am I? You can call me Victoria."

Carlo saw her draw the curtains and found only one person, and couldn't help but sneer: "Where is your crown?"

"In my husband's hands," the curly-haired girl shrugged. "I wear it during the day, and he wears it at night. One crown satisfies two people. The ministers shouldn't have any objections... They don't have the habit of sneaking into other people's cabinets, right?"

Carlo narrowed his eyes and looked at the girl who was talking nonsense.

She touched the cold iron around her waist, listened quietly for a moment, and her heart gradually calmed down.

"pagan!"

She glanced at the uneasy women and immediately shouted, "We rely on blades and poison! Our gods protect our flesh and blood!"

The girl tilted her head: "Your gods?"

"We believe in the God of Spindle! As long as we are faithful to Him, we will always be prosperous! We will never fall into the web of a male spider—"

The green-eyed girl was extremely angry: "Nonsense! There is only the golden-eyed cat god in the world!"

These words caught the woman, who was used to lying, off guard.

she…

what did she say?
What cat god?
What eyes?

Carlo frowned: "There is no such god... Girl, you are blaspheming the gods."

"Yes, I just made it up," the girl said jokingly, "It happens to be the same as yours."

(End of this chapter)