The Secret Code of Monsters.

Chapter 993 Ch.992 Awakening from the Bump

Terrible, terrifying, truly awe-inspiring, high-level ritualists...

What does their power look like?

If you ask Roland, he will tell Rose: It is the flame, the never-defeated enthusiasm, the unpredictable power to travel through space at will - and also the magic that is so strange that it invades the "memory" and exiles or extinguishes the fire of the soul in the memory...

Roland gently lifted a corner of the deep sea curtain with his fingers and caught a glimpse of the dragon's scales.

Rose is both luckier and more unfortunate than him.

In order to "not fall down", the girl who paid with blood and sweat in London, in the East, in battle after battle, has never actually come into contact with real power.

She witnessed the outline of the dragon, but only roughly thought that the deft hands, quick reaction, flexible limbs, and sharp attack were enough to mean 'powerful'.

That is not correct.

Just like the "Immortal" who has reached the fifth ring, while ripening plants, he can also ripen "ideas".

The power of "epidemic" is not limited to spreading minor ailments that make people sneeze.

Many ritualists never experience reverence throughout their lives, and they certainly cannot live a complete life.

That morning when Rose thought she was dead.

In the morning when she woke up.

Her surprise was no less than when she lifted the quilt and found that in addition to her legs, there was also a cat with Roland's head on it.

——She was not in the cellar, in the dark room, her hands and feet were not tied, her mouth was not sewn up, her arms were not chopped off, and even her clothes were the same as last night: dirty where they were, clean where they were.

It was as if she was 'transferred' to another place.

Nothing has changed.

Except where she stayed.

Where is she?
The wobbling and bumpy feeling told her:
She was in a moving carriage.

The carriage was converted into a 'room': the ceiling was sealed, the seats and tables were removed, and several layers of goose down blankets were laid on the boards: under her head was a small pillow that did not match the blanket, and she was covered with a thin quilt.

There was also a kettle, a small basket of cakes, a matchbox, and a candle at hand.

Simply…

The most thoughtful ambusher?
The girl, who was sweating and catching a cold, coughed lightly, and as her lung sacs contracted and expanded, she tried her best to tighten every inch of muscle that could be controlled: she covered her mouth and nose with her sleeves, climbed up from the blanket quietly, and drew aside the curtains.

The trees flying back outside the window told her that the car was already some distance away from the suburbs of London.

'Where is it taking me?'

Not going anywhere.

As if aware that she was awake, half a minute later, the carriage slowly slowed down along the roadside and stopped beside a ditch.

Someone came around the front of the car.

Stop in front of the compartment door.

Rose held the blade, waiting for 'it' to push the door - and then.

knock knock.

Rose: ...

Even in this situation, she rolled her eyes.

knock knock.

The person outside the door seemed unwilling to give up and insisted on doing this extremely polite stupid thing, so Rose had no choice but to patiently answer in a low voice: Please come in.

crunch.

First, the sunshine.

then.

It was a woman's foot with two toes missing, as if they had been bitten off by something, and pus was oozing from the wound.

then.

ankle.

Dirty standard maid uniform.

Brown hair stuck to his scalp like linoleum.

A pair of lifeless eyes rested on a rhino-like nose.

The woman's cheeks were covered with spider-web-like brown sores, and the exposed skin was covered with mattress marks, as if she was a patient who never turned over - but on the contrary, as she boarded the carriage, Rose did not smell the slightest "unpleasant" odor.

Instead, she walked in with a faint smell of mint.

"Good day."

The woman's throat was as hoarse as a boatman who had been calling out for a hundred years. "Lillian Rose Vansittart."

She called her name.

…………

……

This - the cultist lady, or the lady who called herself 'Poison Arrow' (to Rose, this name was not much better than the one Roland gave her), did not seem to want to hurt her: at least that was the result.

After she boarded the carriage, she closed the door, lit a candle, and pointed to the filling pastries she had prepared for Rose.

But don't touch it with your hands.

"If you don't want to infect me with some dirty disease, you should talk to me outside the car." Rose lifted the cloth, biting the bread like a squirrel, and said lightly.

'Poison Arrow' was a little surprised.

Her...

That's quite a lot of courage.

No wonder.

"That's the best I can think of, Miss Vansittart. I think you can see that I mean you no harm."

"But you killed my men."

"I didn't kill them." Dujian showed an 'innocent' expression: "It wasn't me."

Rose lowered her head, tore the bread in her hand into small pieces, threw them into her mouth one by one, and chewed them without saying a word.

She killed Hans and Marino...

And those three innocent stalkers.

They shouldn't have died.

Just because of her...

arrogant.

Roland had clearly told her to be careful, be extra careful...

(Although someone never follows the rules he makes - at a tea party, you can keep making mistakes as long as you don't get caught.)
Is that an illusion?
The girl recalled everything that happened last night, and surprisingly felt that all her actions were so 'reasonable' and 'logical'.

The girl, with her mouth full of bread, stole a glance at the other man.

to be frank.

She was a little afraid of this power that manipulated emotions and caused hallucinations.

"The ritualists of the alien gods want to ascend and dominate, but the Plague is different. We just need to continue to infect and transmute..."

To Dujian's surprise, Rose understood the meaning of the words.

On the road that had been wiped out by the fog, she witnessed the scenery at the end of the road: lazy and crying gods, a dream made up of plague, pus, blisters and flies.

And His followers whose heads are full of shit.

Constant infection.

"Just to make the world a better place... Like stupid gods, like stupid followers..."

Poison Arrow didn't seem to be upset by Rose's 'blasphemy'.

In front of the girl, she gently pulled open the indecent front of her clothes and released a small white head.

"Roland!" Rose screamed.

Trumpet Roland shed tears (mycelium), accumulated energy on the plumpness, and jumped into Rose's arms and burst into tears.

——She cried so much that her whole body was covered with sticky fungus threads.

'You didn't even notice I was missing!'

"Who said that? I knew you were missing a long time ago," Rose said stubbornly, "I was able to escape just now. If it weren't for you, I would be drinking coffee at home now..."

'real? ’

"Of course it's true. When have you ever seen me pick an enemy I couldn't handle?"

This is true.

Little Roland rubbed his eyes and insisted: "You didn't even ask me."

"I wanted to ask you just now... but you can't just ask directly, otherwise, people will know how important you are - for a businessman, the longer you keep your purpose hidden..."

Dujian licked the corners of his dry lips and looked at the girl holding the little mushroom man and mumbling softly, the joy in his eyes became more and more intense...

(End of this chapter)