The Secret Code of Monsters.

Chapter 994 Ch.993 Error
The trap she fell into last night made her think it was a prepared "counterattack" and "self-protection", and when Dujian called out her full name, Rose knew what the other party's real purpose was.

She deliberately let Rose find her.

As ‘Mr.

"I know what you're going to ask, Ms. Poison Arrow."

Rose coaxed little Roland into her hair, looked into his empty eyes, and said sincerely: "I promise to tell you the truth, and tell you clearly what happened on that road - if this information can satisfy you..."

Poison Arrow smiled: "I won't hurt you, Miss Vansittart. I think you should understand this - the "Plague" has too many ways to cause pain, doesn't it?"

Rose nodded gently: "I believe it, of course, please believe me too..."

She started from the big ship and told Du Jian bit by bit what happened in the East - at least what she had witnessed.

of course.

What cannot be said is hidden.

Rose believed that the only people that Poison Arrow really cared about were the Black Urn Cultists on the Eastern Road—they were there to spread the ointment and welcome the coming of the Son of Pus…

Paid a heavy price.

"I do not consider my pious compatriots alive, nor do I wish any of them to live because of their unsteady faith, Miss Vansittart. When the ritual was decided, the lucky ones who participated in it were destined to return to the kingdom of our God..."

to be frank.

Dujian's pious look made Rose feel uncomfortable.

She seemed to have licked the residue of the sun, and her entire flesh and blood gave people a feeling of being riddled with holes and crumbling - and when she talked about her gods, about how their "sacrifice" was not a "sacrifice", but a happy, self-sublimated and sanctified one, and how lucky they were to be chosen -

When she said this, Rose was horrified.

That was why she never went to Holy Cross, to church, and later, never to the Private Alliance prayer room.

Whatever the denomination.

The places they leave for believers to pray are almost the same.

Rose doesn't really believe in the Lady of Bustle and Bustle, even though she is a "secret scroll".

Perhaps she had this kind of "blasphemous" trait in her character, and she had been with Yolanda for quite a while, and was influenced by some of the East - if the "Fountain of Youth" business was good, she would be willing to pray to Him and say something nice.

If business is bad...

The Noisy and Busy Woman doesn't need a ungodly and abusive believer like her.

pragmatism.

Rose labeled herself this way.

It's not that she has no faith, it's just that sometimes her faith is not very firm...that's all.

"I believe in the choice of our God, Miss Vansittart. Perhaps you just haven't penetrated the veil that blinds the world and peeked into the true truth hidden deep inside..."

Rose gave a standard perfunctory smile: "Perhaps, ma'am."

Poison Arrow shook his head and refused to give up.

"Once the Child of Pus is born, Miss Vansittart, the world will have true immortality—Have you ever been sick?"

She asked.

Of course Rose had.

"Is it painful?"

of course.

“Will I get sick again in the future?”

No one dares to say no.

"Disease, scars, aging - the flesh and blood cannot escape the hounds of time, nor can it be as eternally vigorous as the believers closest to the Mother Goddess... Miss Vansittart, if there is a way to make all believers and non-believers on earth, believers or pagans of our God, even blasphemers, sins -"

She slowly straightened her back, and the irritating sound of flapping wings froze the light in the carriage.

She was like a great corpse.

He spoke in a low and slow voice the truths he had witnessed during his lifetime.

"If there is a way to make people never suffer again..."

She looked at Rose's eyes, which had emerald crystal flowers blooming on her horns, with the piety and sacrificial look of a child of the night looking forward to the dawn, compassionate and pious.

"If there is such a way, would you be willing to realize it for the world?"

The heavy questions are like weeds pressed under thick bricks.

Rose...

I just thought she was crazy.

These pagans, these cultists, are all crazy.

Maybe.

So are the followers of the Crown God.

So is she.

Roland did the same. But sometimes, Roland liked to play with her feet... At least it was normal sometimes, right?

Like a normal man.

Just like she also likes to play Luo...

"I don't have such ability, ma'am." Rose prevaricated, hoping to quickly lead the topic from 'the gods descending' to 'let me go': she didn't understand the power of the "plague", whether it had a more powerful close combat ability besides curses and hallucinations...

She had no gold coins and only two blades.

She didn't know if she could escape from the other party... Once the "field" was activated, she wouldn't be able to hold on until the other party's "secret" was exhausted in this wilderness.

Look now.

This 'poison arrow' obviously would not be misled by the words of a second-ring master.

"You do, Miss Vansittart."

The woman forced a smile, and under Rose's surprised gaze, she adjusted her sitting position: her feet were under her hips, her knees were on the carpet.

She changed direction and aimed at Rose who was sitting cross-legged.

then.

His hands were twisted into a gesture Rose had never seen before, pressed against his forehead, and pressed deeply.

He fell in front of Rose.

Little Roland poked his head out from the black hair, but was quickly stuffed back into his pocket by Rose.

"…M-M-Ma'am?"

This is…

What is this for?
Cult members are indeed crazy.

"You can call me Poison Arrow, or you can call me Melissa, Miss Vansittart. Lord Balfour's prophecy has come true... We will finally welcome our saint back... Today... on this absurd day of the Thunderstorm Festival... a sect finally has everything it has..."

The even more ancient silence cast a silver frost on the car windows.

The howling north wind slapped the swaying wooden boat, and the glass tore through the standard seams, making a "dong dong dong" sound.

The lukewarm time seemed to become urgent in an instant.

Rose felt like she was in an ice cellar.

Poison Arrow seemed to have noticed something, and his tone became more urgent: "You are the Silver Disaster, the future master of the earth, the saint who leads us forward... You have seen Him and received His recognition... Miss Vansittart, my master... You——"

Click...

Click.

The glass was cracked by the freezing cold.

Rose kept shaking her head and pulled little Roland off her head: the other party was very proud and wove a white crown on the top of his little head.

"My lady, perhaps your Lord Balfour made some prophecy - whatever it is, I am sure it is not entirely correct."

It turned out to be the case.

There were some subtle deviations between what the Son of Pus had entrusted her with and Balfour's prophecy.

A minor misunderstanding.

Perhaps the god explained it clearly to her, but did not explain it clearly to Balfour, the adult in the mouth of the poisonous arrow: Little Roland, this mycelium, the lucky seed chosen by the god, was not herself.

The Son of Pus wanted to use her to hand it over to a gifted "Plague" ritualist, a devout believer.

The poison arrow was wrong.

she is not.

"Forgive me for hiding that dream journey... Ma'am."

Rose lowered her head and looked at 'Little Roland' who was staring at her in the palm of her hand.

“…I just didn’t have time to find a suitable owner for it.”

With the sound of breaking glass.

The cold wind rushed into the fragile carriage, easily tearing the small box bound with thin wooden boards into pieces.

The silver-white earth meets the eyes.

Under the pine tree.

Old Tom, stroking the handle of his cane with both hands, was staring quietly at the woman kneeling in the carriage.

then.

Turning to Rose.

"It's time to go home, miss."

He said.

(End of this chapter)