The Secret Code of Monsters.

Chapter 918 Ch.917 Prototype Arm-mounted Detector

The 'White Extract Steam Type II (Knob-Type Horizontal Rudder) Front-Drive Engine' (this name is quite long) is only a small part of the 'White Coal' derivatives - in addition to replacing horses (although most nobles despise it), when Roland visited Enid (and the cave where Enid and her food parted ways) yesterday, he also saw an arm-mounted machine box on her desk.

box.

It is about two-thirds the size of a 10-cigar box. Like the 'car computer' in front of it, the pipes and iron core are exposed, giving off a sense of urgency as if it has not yet been completed.

In fact, it is indeed a semi-finished product.

'White coal can produce a wonderful reaction with "mystery". Roland, some clever ritualists think that if we can make use of this substance - I mean, in terms of mystery... maybe we can make a machine that can "detect mystery".'

That is the unfinished product on the desk.

According to Enid, the core part has been completed, but it has not yet reached the qualified line in terms of efficiency, accuracy, damage rate and sustainability. With a few more flashes of inspiration, perhaps from now on, the executors of the Tribunal will be able to use this machine to detect the concentration of "mystery"...

That's right.

The "Guild of Craftsmen" of the Holy Cross coined a new word.

concentration.

By judging the speed of the reaction with the white coal, the concentration of mystery around the holder can be judged - this obviously cannot distinguish those ritualists who "deliberately hide" themselves:
As long as they don't deploy their powers around the machine, this thing can't tell the difference between ritualists and ordinary people.

But in some cases, it can play a crucial role.

For example, in response to cult cases that have occurred or are currently occurring, a large-scale field detection can be performed.

It targets those apprentices who cannot stretch or gather their own strength, most mortals who 'think they are lucky', and those who possess invisible skills or magical objects.

simply say.

It was not very effective in the confrontation between ritualists, but it was incredibly sensitive against mortals or apprentices, or perhaps a few alien species and ghosts.

——By the way. During the entire battle, he and Enid only talked about these few "business matters".

The rest of the conversation...

It wasn't something like 'Please pull out my penis!' It was 'Can you call me sister?' - this kind of crazy words made Roland think of the weird words like the scream of Cinderella.

For some reason, Enid Julia was very keen to hear Roland call her "sister", but when everything died down to calm after the trembling, she clung to her lover's heart like a baby bird, quietly listening to his strong and hot heartbeat.

Sunny fun.

Or a mix of fun and mischief.

Roland was a little clumsy in this regard, perhaps like all cats who have not really experienced and enjoyed a few springs - when they act only on the most primitive instincts in their bodies, their intelligence is no different from that of a savage.

Besides.

There is another interesting thing.

Randolph said that two people made the greatest contributions to the research on white coal.

Charles Babbage.

and his student, Droz Fonseca.

--Anyway, according to him, the name 'Babbage' has become quite famous in polite circles recently.

Most people believed that this strange scholar had messed up the fine traditions they had always upheld and the virtues and wisdom that had been passed down in their blood, saying that his "excessive" indulgence in his "weird ideas" was no less than taking hot feces out of his crotch and throwing it everywhere.

Another small group agreed on the surface, but secretly asked around about Babbage's residence, work, whereabouts, and all information about his students.

Anyone with a little insight can see what "white coal" means.

“It means the future.”

Randolph rolled up his sleeves, grabbed the leather rope like riding a horse, stepped on the frame and turned over. He patted the big machine in front of him.

"How was it? I should have left a picture."

"It's much uglier than riding a horse."

"Wisdom, Roland, wisdom." Randolph pointed his finger at his forehead and said, "This is handfuls of golden coins. I remember you said that you were close friends with that Droz Fonseca?"

Roland sternly corrected: "There is no 'intimacy'."

"You can have one," the shameless businessman shrugged, and hinted to Roland with narrowed eyes: "A rising star. Do you know the importance of information? If I could get the news in advance a month before this thing came out, I might be able to earn half a "Golden Smoke"."

He made an obscene gesture towards Roland, his eyebrows dancing with joy, and his words became somewhat obscene:
"…You don't understand, those scholars, whether men or women, always look 'serious' - in appearance or in conversation, but don't be misled by this appearance… Wait until the lights are turned off…"

The footsteps came closer and closer.

Roland shut up early.

"...When the lights are turned off, she'll force you to pull her tortured string that's been suffocated all summer...If you take a few deep sniffs of her watery eyes in the moonlight streaming through the cracks in the curtains...I guarantee you'll see Angel Falls in West London..."

"I don't mean to interrupt the conversation between two gentlemen, but Randolph, lunch is ready."

Half of Theresa's body was hidden by the laurel wreath that looked like broken gold foil, revealing only a half-smile on her face. As she was standing right behind Randolph, Mr. Taylor, who was concentrating on the obscene description, failed to immediately notice the old maid who had watched him grow up.

While he was talking to Roland about a special type of hole-covering cloth that had no function other than pleasure, Theresa pursed her lips and stared at her "little Taylor".

Then, the situation became awkward.

"…Everyone has been young, Theresa." The slightly embarrassed businessman coughed and tried to avoid the topic.

"Of course. But everyone deserves to eat, too, Randolph."

Theresa said with a wry smile, glanced at Roland, and silently turned back to the mansion - she certainly wouldn't be angry about "gentlemen's little hobbies".

Whether the topic was noble or base, it was not the servant's place to comment.

just.

The old maid who had raised him "from childhood" certainly knew what kind of person the master's son was - an alien.

Apart from making money, making a lot of money, and making a lot of money to spend on his sister... he is not very interested in the dirty things in the circle.

Not to mention some particularly bastards who bought little girls with all their teeth pulled out from the Notty Golden Lamp (you can imagine what they would be used for), even the most upscale "salons" on Red Street or the West End, Randolph rarely got involved if it wasn't for business.

He himself has no great interest in 'women'.

Until Bronte.

That humble, self-proclaimed "noble" Bronte appears.

Randolph Taylor was 'young again'.

So, who else could it be that I am talking to Roland Collins about Neiku today?

Bronte…Bronte…

Why is it always Bronte?

Couldn't he find someone of noble descent or affluent family?
Theresa was in a very bad mood when she returned to the old house. Her frosty footprints left all the way, causing the servants around her to lower their eyes and retreat.

"Even the master didn't play like this..."

Bronte.

(End of this chapter)