The Secret Code of Monsters.

Chapter 923: Benign Impersonation

Pastors have suffered setbacks many times.

They are used to it.

Except for the priests of the Holy Cross and the believers of the "Great Whirlpool" and "Tree Mother" factions - the former must maintain the "creationism" and the "mercy and majesty" of their own gods. The latter are just "struggling to death".

Same with Griff Hyman who disappeared.

A drug that was "capable of relieving pain" and "slightly addictive" was accidentally created by a ritualist from the "Tree Mother" faction, and was used by the "Black Urn" followers to hatch this horribly addictive poison - if they did not have a stake in the laudanum business, it would be because the Father of All Things had two ** under his body.

The case of the Notty's Golden Lamp had brought discredit upon the naturalists in London, and now the other head of the double-headed profit was about to be chopped off, and no one would sit idly by.

Apart from…

A hostile faction of the "Tree Mother".

Animal fangs.

The moment Westwick stepped into the city of London, Palojemed had sent someone to wait by the roadside and personally handed over the mortgage documents in the suitcase: Yoram ben Bertrand's mortgage documents in Palojemed, and the value liquidation table of the mortgaged property.

"That's ugly, Darren."

The gray-haired man flipped through a few pages and marveled at the number and value of items recorded therein.

"For these evil, harmful poisons, some people are willing to pay their entire fortunes to make a profit - I'm not saying it's the fault of the businessmen, but humans are indeed the most greedy animals in nature..."

He flicked a few pieces of paper that were as thin as a cicada's wing and as heavy as a pound, looked at the bank manager standing in front of him tremblingly, and a smile flashed across his narrow eyebrows: "Because humans have higher wisdom, right?"

He raised his jingling cuffs and touched his forehead with his slender, pale fingers.

"Wisdom, sir. Humans have a higher level of wisdom, which has allowed them to avoid several disasters that would have destroyed the world. Do you have enough wisdom?"

The person in charge clutched his handkerchief and sweated profusely.

"…Bertrand's debt is due at the end of this month, your Excellency."

"Too late, not wise enough."

The person in charge rolled his eyes and said, "Mid-month! Sir, mid-month! Due to policy reasons, after discussion, we have decided to recover Mr. Yoram Ben Bertrand's loan from our bank in advance..."

At this time.

The person in charge noticed.

There was a strange bird on the gray-haired man's shoulder.

Parrot-sized, with feathers similar to the man's hair color, and horizontal pupils like a goat.

It made his whole body creepy.

"…Ten days. My Lord, just ten days."

Westwick was satisfied and reached out to pat his increasingly relaxed shoulder.

"Look at what the "Tree Mother" has done? Noti's Golden Lamp - a den of evil that harms poor mortals for gold coins; laudanum - a poison not allowed by the gods..."

A subordinate named Darren coughed lightly to remind his master that the "god" was currently the "false god" mentioned by the Holy Cross.

"I don't care if He is a false god or something made up by mortals. Darren, all things come from nature and will return to nature after death. No creature is as greedy and shameless as humans... Can't taxes that are more than lice in women's hair satisfy them?"

He looked down at the hunched person in charge who was about to kneel down with a forgiving look, and said in a gentle voice: "So we are here, sir. Just as where there is a disaster in nature, there must be a miracle. From today on, the "Maelstrom" in London will be controlled by me, "Beast Fang", and Westwick..."

"I allow you to make dirty money, but of course, you also have to allow your flesh and blood to rot in the soil - it's fair, survival of the fittest, do you understand what I mean?"

The people in charge don’t understand.

He only knows one thing.

The scenery is endless, and I can even meet your Majesty's former "drug" and current "poison" merchant...

Bad luck will come soon. …………

……

Sometimes, the waves on the water often start from the breathing of a sleeping dragon underwater.

However, people can only see the patterns on the water surface and think that the ducks have made a mistake.

Just like Mr. Yoram Ben Bertrand, who is being criticized by everyone today - he certainly knows whether he is being treated like this because of the criticism of the poor, the criticism of critics who can't afford to buy pants, or...

He lost all his wealth, was excluded from certain circles, and lost the divine protection that came from those circles.

He knew why.

The mouth of the poor and the pen of the critic are not as powerful as the butt of a gun, let alone the bullet.

"How could he lie to us?!"

After the march half a year ago, these cornerstones who were angry because they were deceived started another round of marches that they believed were just - they came from all directions, took to the streets, holding and waving flags with words like "No Poison" or "Save the Poor", coming from the north and south districts, and after meeting in the east district, they headed to the west district, to the government building.

what is interesting is.

Compared with the previous "gang riots" in London, today's "justice march" did not encounter too many obstacles - patrol police with wooden sticks on their waists stood in groups of two or three under the sheds of open-air cafes, watching with their arms folded, occasionally shouting "Pick up your child" or "Watch your dirty hands!"

Their inaction gave courage to the protesters.

Even some teachers in schools held up banners that read: Who poisoned the future of the empire?

"Laudanum has been on the market for who knows how many years and now they are asking 'who poisoned the future' - they didn't think of that a few years ago, it's disgusting."

"It's not that they don't have it, it's that they don't dare to have it."

Same as last time the Queen paraded.

Roland and Rose sat on the balcony, holding cups of tea, while Halida served them on the other side - and by the way, it had to be spread around.

He moved into the new house.

Two adjacent villas.

One was for his uncle and Yam, and the other was for him and Halida—occasionally there would be thieves and candidate saints there.

However, recently, after a brief meeting, Shandel disappeared again, saying that her "flame was too strong" and that she could start preparing for the Ring Ascension Ceremony. Roland had never heard of or seen her Ring Ascension Ceremony.

Isn’t the “Saint’s” Ring-raising Ceremony about saving lives?

"From what I know about her, Roland, don't ask. It's definitely not a good thing..." Rose held a thick cigar, turning it around in her hands without lighting it. "Do you think they know the real harm of laudanum?"

Roland looked down at the blind lambs migrating in the streets.

“…They don’t need to know.”

Victoria's 'Far East Plan' had failed, and killing Yoram this time would inevitably cut off a powerful arm of this lady - who would do such a thing?

"Will he be torn to pieces by these crazy citizens?"

"No, Rose. Randolph said that if those people were cruel enough, they would not let Yoram go to the 'court' - the Tribunal is his final destination."

Rose was slightly surprised: "Cultist?! He works for the Queen!"

"Obviously, it would be best if the Queen could be involved... Oh, by the way, do you have any clues about the group of people who pretended to be you and Halida?"

Rose lay back in her chair and pouted.

"…You have no idea what a coincidence this is, Roland."

(End of this chapter)