The Secret Code of Monsters.

Chapter 966 Ch.965 Method
A piece of baby's finger bone.

Not the tails of cows, sheep, pigs, or even cats and dogs—even if Amelia angrily called the lunch attendant and scolded her for being so careless that she let the "cat's tail" leak into the pot...

No one present is stupid.

Everyone is born to deal with their left and right hands, and naturally knows the difference between a tail and fingers.

Kingsley looked very ugly, and Burns simply retched like Amelia, covering her lips with a handkerchief and bending over. Rose was caring and supporting her, supporting her - while holding down Ms. Burns's scratching hands to prevent her from damaging her "inflated dignity".

Amid the chaos, blood began to gush out of the gold-lined walls.

They rushed across the carpet, leaving behind unidentifiable bits of bones and entrails.

The nurses screamed loudly and called the male servants who were guarding outside.

soon.

There was an extra voice in the scream.

Fernandez, who was standing by, could see clearly: this was not a "field" created by a powerful vengeful spirit, but a "power" condensed by numerous, densely packed ghosts who directed their "longings" from their previous lives to the same place.

Coincidence?
Thinking about the big parade before, some things are self-evident.

"What are your plans, Adjutant?"

"You are the captain."

Fernandez smiled wryly: "You are, Roland. If you remember what I taught you - the interference of ghosts in the waking world is so small that it is difficult for people to notice, you want to rely on them to "revenge" on their own?"

Similar to the spirit that Shandel saw in Petticoat Harbor.

"Fernandez," Roland said, leaning on his cane. The surging blood at his feet almost covered their ankles. "Will babies hate?"

Spirits have their own 'rules'.

The only thing these weak ghosts want is not "revenge" - can babies hate?

Fernandez was stunned: he saw countless babies swarming in from the blood, cracks, and ceiling from all directions - crawling all over the body of every caregiver like ants, screaming.

They pulled at their clothes, tearing and squeezing each other like pus-filled cysts, hanging tightly together.

——The dining table is the dividing line.

These spirits without complete self-awareness seemed to have no interest in the people at the other end of the long table.

They murmured "Mom" and scrambled to chase the warmth of living flesh and blood - those incomplete and horrific fragments made them scream in pain from time to time, and the familiar breath from their memories drove them to pounce into the trembling arms of fear.

then.

An interesting scene appeared: every caregiver was covered with ghosts with the outline of babies, and these "freaks" who desperately shouted "mother" were mostly with incomplete limbs, collapsed skulls, and burns all over their bodies.

Burns was supported by Rose, his face pale: "This, this is-"

"We'll be fine, Rosa," Rose whispered soothingly.

Kingsley, who was standing by, saw Roland's 'signal' and took over the conversation. He cursed someone's name in his heart and raised his voice and said, "We have to do something! Ladies and gentlemen! Who can help?! Can't you see that these things don't hurt you?!"

Naturally, someone on the other side of the dividing line calmed down.

Excellent caregivers and valets.

As the gentleman said.

Even if they become ghosts, monsters, or babies, they are still babies - they can't even tell who to hate.

They just looked at their 'mother' helplessly at the bottom of the lake of tears with their drowning eyes, like a puppy that was not kept warm, a child with a 'coward' tattoo on his face that should not be on the battlefield.

They could not utter a complete 'May you be well', and they clung to their trouser legs or their skirts with limbs like tree monkeys that would never grow back.

Forgetting that I once drank steaming whiskey with a spoon in the fireplace, using my stunned and suffocated face as a foil to the string of golden lumps in the bucket, the innocence as tender as fireflies became the dirtiest and meanest cellar. They were hazy and curled, condensed and stretched like fish floating in the water, like grapes on a trellis, blankly accepting the wind and sun.

——But it won't hurt us.

More people calmed down.

They all stood up straight, stamped their feet, and even shouted loudly. The more courageous ones tried to stretch out their hands to pry open the palms that were tightly grasping the fabric - but they could only pry open.

They gained nothing and didn't know how to end this nightmare that was so realistic that it broke their hearts.

"…I've heard of a way. Guys, we can't just wait like this, waiting for someone to rescue us—maybe we'll fall into the trap of these little bastards."

Kingsley said, glancing at a black-haired young man.

"What can I do? Sir! You can't just watch us get hurt... Please be kind... How could I have encountered such ungrateful monsters..."

"I took care of them all night..."

"God of Benevolence... Protect me... No monster can harm me..."

"I want to leave...quickly...let me go..."

Kingsley glanced at them coldly, forcing away those chattering, time-wasting complaints: "If I had a way, I would first rescue you and then hit you in the mouth with a board! It's ridiculous! I am a human being, not your 'benefactor'."

He took a deep breath to give himself courage, carefully avoiding the dried blood and body parts on the ground.

Then, he raised his head in long desire and looked at this "baby room" thoroughly.

"…I don't know, guys. I don't know if this is going to work."

The voice seemed unsure.

"I only heard about it from a friend. At a cocktail party, during a casual conversation, his friend's friend had dealt with those black priests. They circulated a method to deal with these dirty things... It is said to be very effective..."

Just heard of it.

But for the current situation, "I heard" is worth a try.

A young nurse suddenly shouted:

"I can't move my arm! My hand is broken! My... my fingers are falling off! I'm dying! I'm dying! I can't... can't die! Lady Amelia! You promised that nothing would happen... I can't die!"

Fear is contagious.

soon.

More and more people are discovering with horror that they have indeed lost 'sensation' at their fingertips - the pain is gradually spreading to the fingertips and even the entire palm.

It depends on the number of spirits in each person.

Fernandez snorted coldly: "If they were not within the scope of the "field", they would not even have this much power."

No matter how scary it 'feels', a ghost is still a ghost. A ghost as big as a warship only consumes one more holy water.

of course.

Mortals don’t understand this.

They really thought they were going to die.

"Sir! Tell us your good idea! We will definitely do it!"

Compared to the caregivers, the male servants seemed more decisive.

(End of this chapter)