The Secret Code of Monsters.

Chapter 999 Ch.998 The Gun Appears
Rose still had a lot to say to James.

For example, the "danger" sensed by the poison arrow, the "wall" in her mouth, and the hell of London - these weird words, in addition to sharing with Roland, she did not shy away from telling James: At some point, she had regarded this sometimes playful and mostly bastard old man as the person who had never existed in her life...

Although she always called him James.

"I...I still have..."

"Lillian."

The old man in the light seemed to have countless water-soaked blankets pressing on his shoulders.

He could no longer tolerate her willfulness, patiently listen to her nonsense, and then open his eyes and say that it was the teacher's fault - he always said that she was lovable, but today he was no longer in the mood to enjoy the time of talking to each other slowly...

Who made things difficult for him?
Rose thought subconsciously.

A surge of anger suddenly rose in my heart.

Just like when she heard people in the pub making fun of Roland Collins, using his eyes and face to make fun of him: she wanted to pick up her beer glass and knock those people's teeth out one by one.

now.

Old Shelley's haggardness also made Rose's heart rise with the same fire.

Who made things difficult for him?
Who made things difficult for Shelley in business?

or.

Who dares to do this?

She is the daughter of the Shelley family, Taylor's partner, the executive's lover (self-proclaimed), and the church's candidate for saint...but that's fine.

No one dared to embarrass Shelley.

There is neither now nor in the future.

The girl subconsciously straightened her chest and wanted to proudly say "No one can embarrass you" - but she suddenly realized that she was not the real "Shelley".

They shouldn't have been this close.

Does old James need help from a thief? A girl who has let him down and is having an affair with a cult?
Tom must have told him all.

The only thing she could do now was to go back to her room and behave herself for a few days...

Maybe? Rose was in a dilemma. She didn't know what to do.

She had never had this before - when she was a child, she was raised by her aunts and had countless "uncles" who didn't really want to be her father...

I just want her to keep repeating this word.

The aunts said that this word was a kind of "spell": when she was still living in that building, she could not recite it easily, no matter how handsome or gentle the man was - otherwise, she would never be able to get rid of a certain life...

"…I'll be in the room."

Rose stood up dejectedly, lowered her head, muttered something, and left James' study like a shadow.

A few minutes later.

The door was knocked again and pushed open.

"Even when her nose was broken, I never saw her cry, sir."

"You're blaming me." James Shelley was not in the mood to smoke his pipe, but Old Tom picked up the tobacco jar on the host's table, pinched out a piece of it and placed it in the palm of his hand, then rubbed it slowly, changed his pipe, and filled it up little by little.

Hand it to James.

The latter glared at him unhappily.

"How have you changed since you were young?" The smiling old butler struck a match and smoked the mouth of the bowl where the grass tips were sticking out. "You are hesitant in life, but you are extremely decisive and brave when it comes to getting into trouble. You are almost the same as the young lady."

James held the plump wooden apple in his hand and took a deep breath.

A mist of honey was blown out.

"You think she's my daughter, too?"

The old butler put down the burnt match, bowed slightly, stepped back, and stood aside without saying anything.

"Or maybe you don't think so either."

James took another drag.

He stared at the box of matches next to the tobacco tray and turned it over with his hand...

Turned over again.

This time the gold medal is facing up.

"'Also'? Sir, I never said anything."

"You're as sly as a rat in the wall, Tom. You were when you were young. You wait till I make a mistake and then you say, 'I told you not to do that' - and you'll tell me now, old man. I want to hear it now."

James pointed at him with the finger that was holding the pipe in dissatisfaction.

Old Tom also stared at the box of matches on the table.

He doesn't speak.

It's almost the same as saying it.

“…the gun.”

The smoke became sweeter and stickier, and the old man could hardly separate his lips. He suddenly felt disgusted with William, disgusted that he had "perfectly completed the task" - wasn't it said that this kind of rare thing that could verify bloodline was as rare as the sun's sweat hair?

"I thought it would take him years."

Old Tom was helpless as he watched his master sulking like a child.

If that's the case, why did you insist on asking William to find it?
"Your last name is Shelley, sir. Even if it's a mystical organ, if you want it, I can send someone to find it - it won't take too long." The old man glanced at his butler in a righteous manner: "Oh. Then find me seven or eight, just right as a gift for Lillian."

Tom smiled. "I shouldn't brag about you when you're in a bad mood, should I?"

James sneered, smoking his pipe.

Pipes are different from cigars.

When you're around someone smoking a pipe, you can hear their every breath.

Old Tom stood beside the bookcase and listened quietly.

Until the tobacco turns into white ash.

"You'll always be thinking about that gun that you never fired."

The butler suddenly spoke.

"Unless it's been fired."

James put down his pipe and rubbed his face.

Same as before.

He did not answer Old Tom's words by saying nothing.

The butler understood and changed the subject, talking about what he heard outside the door - the conversation between Rose and the cultists.

"…I know you're not in the mood, but I beg you to wait a little longer. The Path of Plague is very sensitive to evil thoughts. You know what these freaks mean when they describe 'hell'."

James shook his head.

He didn't believe anything 'big' would happen in London.

in other words.

Even if an immortal wanted to cause trouble in London, he would have to consider whether he really wanted to do so - London has more than just one eight rings.

disaster?

Who knows what the cultist's purpose is...

It is true that he is planning to target Lillian.

"You should kill her."

"I would like to, but I'm afraid the young lady would not be happy about it - besides, sir, have you forgotten that the Cradle of Flesh and Blood once launched an attack at the banquet?"

Shelley said disdainfully: "They are just mortals. They can only treat mortals... mortals..."

The more he spoke, the quieter his voice became.

The master and servant looked at each other silently.

"Mortal?" James was a little unsure.

"I think that's the way it should be," Old Tom nodded. "Otherwise, even if it's an eighth or ninth ring, what can it do?"

The disaster is directed at the ritualists?
That's not necessarily the case.

Old Tom repeated it to his master.

James was indifferent to the so-called "being chosen" - the crazy talk of the cultists. Even if, even if her Lillian was really chosen by that "son of pus" and the gods...

It only proves that the Shelley family's bloodline is excellent enough.

His Lillian was much better than those 'geniuses' of the past hundred years.

He just never advertised it.

As for the rest…

James thought for a moment and ordered, "Go tell William and your old friends. Starting tomorrow, the Shelleys will rebuild the house - tear down the walls and rebuild them."

housekeeper:……

"Which one?" he asked.

"Every one," James replied.

As Old Tom was so near, he could not roll his eyes without his master seeing him--or he would have done so.

"Master, I think the 'wall' that the cultist is talking about is not the ordinary 'wall' we understand..."

James disagrees.

"From my experience dealing with these people, they usually don't like to talk nonsense. If you have been with the ritualists of the Holy Cross and the Great Whirlpool, you will know that no one can compare to them in this regard... They are all demolished."

What else can old Tom do? James Shelley is not new.

The Shelleys have plenty of money anyway.

The butler thought about it and bowed.

"Also, didn't Lillian say her bedroom was too small? I'm too old to draw a bow now, so I'll give her the area at the shooting range."

Tom:…

You’ve never shot a bow at a shooting range.

master.

Ever since humans invented the gun.

(End of this chapter)