The Secret Code of Monsters.

Chapter 931 Ch.930 The Prophet and the Golden Scale
Even his white hair and gray eyes were not noticeable on the busy streets.

What is this place?
They now have machines to replace horses, and those greasy little gears may one day bring an even bigger surprise.

What era is this?
An era where land can disappear at any time.

What world is this?
Look at what the Noti Golden Lamp has done.

- For the citizens of London, they consider themselves to be 'very knowledgeable' (and precisely because of their practice of treating visitors from any place as 'country people', for a long time they were accustomed to being called 'French' by residents of other cities).

"Glorious city."

Tom Linus waved his arms, paying no attention to the glances coming from all around him.

Some people came towards him and walked around him; a group of people walked with him and also silently slowed down their pace.

There was only one person who followed him silently, turning a blind eye to his "crazy behavior".

“Brilliant…”

"But this city does not belong to believers. Mr. Terry, how do you live day after day, enduring this pungent hypocritical exhaust fumes?"

Thomas Terry pursed his lips and said nothing.

The sun was very bright at noon.

But since that incident, he could no longer feel the warmth of the sun.

"Holy Cross, Holy Cross... Let the blind see again, and the paralyzed walk fast. Let the lepers' skin become smooth as satin, and the bleeding wounds heal - just drink the golden wine of 'faith', hand over a symbol of 'faith' wealth, and then devote yourself wholeheartedly to the religious scam that is no different from the regime..."

The white-haired man sang the aria in his mouth, his leather shoes tapping to the beat of the drum in his heart, spinning, walking fast and slow on the street, and taking off his hat to salute the frightened lady and lady.

“Will miracles lead to pilgrimages or panic?”

Gray eyes teased.

Heels slammed into the streetside brawl.

Next to a fruit stall built on a two-wheeled vehicle, a young man and woman were arguing about something that happened in the past.

The man seemed a little annoyed: "...I said, that's my aunt!"

The woman crossed her arms. "Oh, really? You kissed your aunt?"

"That's etiquette, Sophia," he said.

"Whose etiquette? Lip and lip?" The woman sneered, "Before the gold in your pocket matches your status - let the etiquette match it first?"

Thomas Terry saw it clearly.

The clothes of both the man and the woman were not exquisite, and could even be described as quite "simple" - two young people who still had to worry about their own food and clothing.

Tom Linus stopped chanting and stood not far away, watching with great interest.

Young boys have excuses and can come up with many excuses that they 'know' each other - once some things are said, the argument must be stopped no matter what.

Men have such a "decisive statement", and so do women - when she is caught "courting" with her uncle, nephew, brother, father, etc., it will be her turn.

"I'm planning to rent a new house for us... and discuss marriage at the same time. Sofia, you can't hurt our feelings over such a small matter... You know how I feel about you."

The young woman named Sophia hesitated.

It's really not a big deal.

especially…

"I thought you guys might need some help...extra."

Tom Linus stepped briskly forward and saluted.

The man subconsciously stood in front of the woman.

“I don’t know what kind of person would eavesdrop on strangers’ conversations—” He pretended to pull his woman away, but the white-haired man in front of him took an apple from the fruit cart and tossed it up and down in his hand.

"If I were you, I'd pay special attention to things that are unlikely to exist, kid..."

Click.

I took a bite.

The juice flowed down the corners of his mouth.

He stopped the young man like an acquaintance and slowly leaned over to whisper.

The other party struggled for a few times and his expression changed several times.

He looked at his lover, then looked down at his big leather shoes covered in yellow mud.

This lasted for half a minute.

The woman next to her was a little worried.

"…Blount?"

She called out her lover's name.

"and many more."

The man gestured with a hint of dissatisfaction and listened attentively for several minutes.

Or a moment.

Tom Linus placed the half apple in the man's hand and patted him on the shoulder: 'The land is full of sores and scars... right?'

He began to bow to the woman in a strange manner like a clown at a festival, and then walked past them at a brisk pace.

Thomas Terry followed in silence.

Fruit stall.

Young couple.

They were left behind in the midst of the noisy roar of machinery and the creaking of wheels against axles—twenty steps, thirty steps, definitely not more than forty steps.

Thomas Terry heard screams behind him.

The man with eyes as red as a bull stood there panting, the dagger in his hand bleeding down his trouser legs.

The dagger came from an apple in the fruit cart.

The blood came from his lover.

The other half of the wedding.

Thomas Terry lowered his eyes and looked quietly at the crowd that gathered like a swarm of bees, the roaring men, the women struggling in pain - the high-ring ritualists of the "Cradle of Flesh and Blood" had such a bewitching power.

They can easily make a wound rot or heal - depending on their mood. This is no more terrifying than "Assassins" and "Iron Cavalry", but it is very difficult to guard against...

No.

Sometimes people who are bewitched are not always bewitched...

Thomas Terry clenched his fists and quickened his pace to catch up with Linus.

"What on earth do you want me to do, cultist?"

"I thought we knew each other."

"I am the Arbiter of the Just Church..."

The white-haired and gray-eyed man suddenly turned his head and asked him, "Is your daughter the same?"

silence.

Thomas Terry rolled his tongue.

Just like a traveler with sand in his boots, walking in the endless desert - if there was a red oasis, would you be willing to deceive yourself?

"Holy Cross has been at peace for too long, Mr. Terry, my arbitrator... Will you lose any sleep over your daughter?"

The white-haired man stood still.

With its heel as the axis, it turned 180 degrees, like a creature with dense tentacles in the deep sea, even casting a wriggling shadow on Thomas Terry's face.

The surrounding stone houses gradually decayed.

In a trance, dense scaly hair grew.

A girl who had just caught a cold and recovered from a serious illness opened the door with a pale face.

She raised her throat and, like a dying swan, rushed towards the upside-down dung fork in the corner.

The noise from the street traffic gradually faded away.

The horse's hide was eaten away by worms.

From the hoofprints flowed a prophetic rain.

“…That’s enough.”

Thomas Terry subconsciously unfolded his "field".

Golden lightning flashed through the flocks of birds that were shaking off maggots.

"I—said—enough!"

Behind an invisible wall that shattered like glass.

The shouts of the newsboy and the shoe shiner once again came through the gap.

Thomas Terry doubled over, breathing heavily.

Sweat drops into the mud.

Tom Linus had turned around early at some point, heading towards the bright sun in the distance.

He raised his arms.

He is directing the lights of the firmament.

(End of this chapter)