The Secret Code of Monsters.

Chapter 898 Ch.897 Lost Things

An empty gooseneck bottle.

A fairy tree.

A soul that can only control its parasitic relatives for a few brief moments.

A huge, almost tearing disappointment...

Or despair.

The Prince pinched the transparent bottle of unknown texture and found a tiny hole on the cork. The remaining, shiny mycelium meant only one thing:

The evil cult used their lives to squeeze out this bottle of poison that killed millions of people...

No more.

He couldn't figure out whether it was an accident or premeditated - for him, without this bottle of poison, there would be no possibility of completing the current transaction.

He couldn't 'twist the fate of millions' again.

The fairy tree would not give him unrivaled power again: he would need three, five, ten years to wake up, fall asleep, fall asleep, and wake up again, slowly and bit by bit devouring his son's soul in the repeated ups and downs...

How many uncontrollable things will happen in this decade?

The 'little prince' stood under the tree holding the gooseneck bottle, silently hysterical.

The immortal tree spoke for the first time since his remembrance.

There was more 'human' emotion in the words.

“It’s a pity though.”

it says.

“But I enjoyed the show.”

fury.

fear.

Confusion about the future.

Decades of career as a king have made it difficult for him to adapt to this life that is as dangerous as a cliff. He was supposed to be the embodiment of power and strength. After tonight, he will take control of this body of only eight years old and embark on his true path to eternity.

Just a show.

The little prince let go of the precious bottle in despair, letting it fall into the mud.

He sat down among the clumps of sprawling emerald bushes.

It was as if someone had turned off the light in his eyes.

"...I want to make a deal with you," he muttered: "Let me cross this period of weakness...I will pay something else. Anything else, except 'twisting the fate of millions of people'...in exchange for something else."

Changqing was silent.

"You once said that you are 'all-knowing and all-powerful' in this land... Then change it to something I can do, right now, right now, at a price I can afford..."

The fascinating tree of wishes was like a gorgeous and sticky swamp, leading him to make one request and one question after another.

If only he could regain his strength.

He can give everything...

As long as he has it.

"The throne? I can give it to you..."

There was a hint of laughter in Changqing's answer: "You can't trade what you don't own."

The voice paused.

"It's simple, and can be done... Of course there are mortals."

it says.

"Roland Collins."

A familiar name.

"Roland Collins can pay enough."

The little prince sat up suddenly, his eyes shining: "You want his flesh and blood..."

Changqing remained silent.

“…That’s the soul.”

Silent.

"No matter what." The little prince gritted his teeth and stood up.

When he sat back on the supreme chair, he had so much to offer - as one of the most powerful countries in the world (although the foreigners had taken advantage of it 'accidentally'), as the monarch of one of the most powerful countries...

He had so much to give him.

——As a small group of people with the most noble status in the world, no matter which direction they are in, they will learn the same truth since they are born.

That is.

The creatures below them, called 'humans', are not actually 'humans'.

This is just a lie on the surface.

They are covered in human skin, but they are not real human beings.

It can be a wrench, a pliers, something that makes a covered wagon move, something that processes vegetables and food, something that provides a wonderful experience…

No matter which one.

These gentlemen and ladies of the highest order were taught the same thing: Don't be deceived by those below you.

They lied that they were "human beings" and demanded "dignity", "reason", "law", "human rights" - no. No.

Don't be fooled.

They are lying.

Look at the mud under their fingernails.

"I'll find a way."

The little prince silently bent down and picked up the long bottle.

Leaving the Emerald Forest.

After half an hour.

A furtive shadow came in under the mottled moonlight.

"My God tree, how can I make my breasts bigger?"

Changqing: ...

…………

……

When the little prince woke up, he only vaguely remembered what he had talked about with Lord Changqing last night - he didn't remember the details, he just thought that he had already made up his mind to pay some unbearable price to stop the evil cult monster who was "elusive" in his father's words.

He remembered a name.

Roland Collins.

And this gentleman from a distant empire did not seem to be reluctant to lend a helping hand to a young new king. To be honest, if Roland had to pay with a hand, an arm, or even more flesh and blood or other more cruel prices, the little prince would not be willing to do so.

He did not consider the life of a foreigner more important than the future of the country.

just.

Why should the other party help him?

He is the king of a country, but he also knows that everything must be done reasonably.

Roland Collins was not one of his people.

"But I'm still willing to help you."

To the little prince's surprise, Roland agreed without hesitation.

"To be precise, it's not about you, young sir. We've only just met. To me, you're no different from the chirping newspaper boy in London's East End - I care more about Yolanda's 'wish', the ending of a story, than you."

Yolanda.

For Yolanda's sake, Roland Collins was willing to have a few words with this alien named 'Evergreen'.

At least that's what the little prince thought.

He felt that Yolanda had some 'obvious' relationship with Roland Collins - he ignored the 'story' in the second half of the sentence and did not take the word seriously.

——Yolanda didn't want Roland to do that 'for her sake' though.

"So, you care more about Roland's life or death than the country and hatred?" Xiandel sat in front of the bed and gently changed Feng Yehua's towel - the sick girl had a high fever in recent days and woke up less and less often.

"No, nothing can compare to it."

Yolanda said.

"But that doesn't mean I want my friends to pay a heavy price."

Shandel feels that girls nowadays are more inclined towards the 'tea party' style than the 'Yolanda' in London.

"When you can say 'the life of a whole country is not as important as that of one person' - then you may be qualified to join the tea party, Miss Yolanda."

Yolanda glanced at Shandel.

"I would never say anything like that."

How can the people of a country be inferior to one person?

She didn't want Roland to lose his arms and legs because of the so-called "evil cult". Besides the fact that he saved her life several times and she was friends with them, Yolanda believed that relying on the lives of hundreds of millions of people in exchange for a moment of peace and tolerance...

It is really shameful.

These are not things that a monarch should say or do.

But if one day.

The life of Roland Collins is really on the line with the lives of all the people...

She didn't dare to say what she would choose at that time.

This assumption is unfair to anyone.

The other end of the scale is too heavy.

"So you can't be one of us, Yolanda."

Shandel slowly wiped the sweat from the girl's temples and gathered the thin blanket.

"You're so normal."

she says.

"You are a normal, ordinary, hypocritical, kind person."

There was a look of contempt like seaweed in those deep blue eyes.

"You are insignificant in this story."

(End of this chapter)