The Secret Code of Monsters.

Chapter 850 Ch.849 God’s Teachings
"…I really shouldn't have been sarcastic about Mr. Collins. He is a noble man and an absolutely tolerant and kind gentleman."

"I saw it on the ship. He talked to the sailors and never got angry at their rudeness, nor did he complain about the food or the turbulence... You know, Bruce and I met all kinds of people..."

"To be honest, Mr. Collins, you and Miss Yolanda are the kindest people I have ever met..."

The thick smoke made it impossible for him to open his eyes.

So he squinted and closed his eyes, and kept talking with his mouth.

"Privately, I also made a deck of cards with the captain, which was created by Mr. Collins. It's great, miss. This is a game that absolutely requires wisdom and logic. Every attack and defense is so clever..."

"Bruce also advised me to apologize to Mr. Collins as soon as possible... I am really... really ashamed... I was busy drinking and having fun..."

He kept choking and coughing, and the sticky phlegm and saliva that he couldn't spit out seemed to have turned into a solid and solidified in his throat.

His breathing gradually became difficult and his voice became smaller and smaller.

I was even unable to stop crying because of the smoke.

"…Oh my God! My lady! I'm almost choking to death!"

He struggled to get out, and seemed to hear someone at the top of the bookshelf shouting at the top of his voice: "We are moving!"

So, he arched his body like a whipped bull, endured the pain from his ankles, pressed the carpet with both hands, and tried to use the strength of the two ladies to lift up the bookshelf!

Click.

The wooden board, which had already become soft, finally broke into pieces as he kept shaking it, adding to the weight of the broken bricks.

His broken back broke through the thin boards of the bookshelf.

The bookshelf has become much lighter.

then.

He came into contact with something stronger than the wooden board.

It was a dagger that found the right angle and stabbed silently into the bookshelf - it cleverly stopped in front of the last thin board, and as long as the person under the bookshelf did not struggle, he would never be hurt.

on the contrary.

With his back arched upward, he had to endure the pain of the knife tip piercing his flesh before he could prop up the bookshelf. He moved from crawling to kneeling, and then to standing with his legs bent, slowly pulling out the dagger that had pierced his back.

More than just smoke.

The first mate's muddled mind could no longer tell whether his skin was hot or cold.

He was in a sea of ​​fire one moment, and in an icy cave the next.

Alive.

I have to survive.

His strong desire to survive made him grit his teeth and thrust his back hard against the tip of the knife.

After a painful wail.

The bookshelf, which had been shaken to pieces and had contained all the thick books, was finally lifted a little by him.

He just knelt on the ground, moved a step, and wailed.

He pulled his back out from under the blade little by little.

The man covered in blood finally found his way to survive - he crawled half of his body out, and as long as the girls outside pulled him up and carried him, he could completely get away from this hell of fire...

nobody.

There is no one in the room.

The exit of the room had already been burned down by flames, with the color of destruction gnawing everywhere.

His precious ermine leather belt also became a shriveled and charred corpse in the fire.

He had no time to recall, shout, or call for the two girls who had disappeared at some point. He stumbled and held onto the rubble, letting it cut his palms until they bled. He stumbled step by step, dragging his leg with a broken ankle, to the gap in the room:
It is also the place where the shells rolled down.

The moon can be seen here.

And the complete appearance of hell.

The black smoke grew thicker, and he felt that the wound on his back where the dagger had pierced it was no longer bleeding - it was scorched.

'live…'

In the chaos, the first mate just clenched his teeth, and a flash of inspiration broke into his bundled, trembling brain.

'Three layers...'

"I can... survive..."

He used his shoulder to hit the broken wall, pushed away the bricks, and squeezed himself out with difficulty, with his upper body outside and his lower body inside the wall.

The man hung there, waving his arms like rowing a boat, pushing the bricks again and again in an effort to fall.

After several unsuccessful attempts, it really makes people despair.

He was panting, even though he smashed his fists.

Finally, when the fire snake wrapped around his bad leg, the brick wall completely loosened.

He didn't have time to recite a short poem in praise of the gods in his heart, and the world was spinning around him in an instant.

Like a loach crawling out of a sand hole.

He fell to the ground.

The broken rib pierced the lung.

The sight turned from pitch black to deep blue, and then, a flash of white light passed by.

In the chaos, he vaguely saw a blurry shadow.

The…

His girl was in front of him, looking down at him.

The man tilted his head back, dazed by the fall, and, enduring the suffocating feeling brought on by his deflated alveoli, he opened his palms with difficulty.

In his eyes, the girl in the white dress with burn marks all over her body was like a god descending from the earth, emitting a glow called "hope" - she smiled at him implicitly, slightly brushed the folds of her skirt, and slowly squatted down.

“God said: To save the world, one must first have good intentions.”

She caressed his soul with her pure eyes and touched his bloody and bruised face with her clean palms.

she says:

"You have proven your courage, tenacity, and unyielding will to the gods. The most primitive instincts of all living things can only shine in disasters... Sir, before asking us for help, you have already saved yourself before us."

With his blood on his fingertips, Shandel drew a cross on the man's forehead.

She prayed softly amid the raging flames and the other party's coughs.

Blood foam oozes out from the corners of his mouth.

The man couldn't wait much longer.

He was almost suffocating, and he knew that the woman in front of him must have some magical abilities that could help him - he squeezed harder and harder, almost crushing the gray-haired girl's wrist.

The other person continued to soothe him softly, caressing his scalp, hair, and across his eyes, nose, and lips.

"I am a Sister of the Holy Cross and a practitioner of the Way of the Saint. I have the power to temporarily transfer pain and injury... First Mate, I can save you from danger, just like a ferry saves you from the tide."

She slowly pried open the man's hand and held it in her turn. The flames and the snowfall in the sky were reflected in her blue eyes.

"But you have to ask me. Only by asking a saint who walks for God can sinners be saved."

She smiled as she looked at the hopeful face in front of her, watching him go through hardships and pain, endure the heart-wrenching burning and stinging pain, and open his mouth with difficulty, only making a few meaningless sounds.

Shandel was not very satisfied.

"I didn't hear your request... sir."

The first mate was so anxious that he almost dug his heart out: if he could, he would be willing to give up all his wealth and organs in exchange for a short life - even if it was only one night before dawn, even if he could only breathe a few more breaths of the world's dust...

A dying person has everything to give, yet nothing to lose.

'He'...

His shoulders fell to the ground and he fell sideways in the mud. He pointed at his throat with his other hand, then pinched and beat it in anger.

“This is the teaching of Father God…”

The saint felt compassion and almost shed tears under the first mate's ferocious gaze.

“He teaches you to be careful about what you say and do; you should keep it in mind.”

She leaned over and whispered to the torn ear:

"for example…"

she says.

"Learn how to respect a person."

(End of this chapter)