The Secret Code of Monsters

Chapter 156 Ch.155 Louis Hyman

The wine cellar seemed to be washed by a waterfall flowing with red wine. The huge whirlpool was like a rushing storm passing through, smashing everything in the wine cellar that it was dissatisfied with - stumps in the mud, fragments of bone stubble, some even An 'organ' that's beating, but I can't tell what it is.

The harsh turbulence broke Roland's hair tie.

He put his hands on the ground, red wine dripping down his black hair.

"...Roland."

He heard Xander's voice.

The weak girl leaned against the wall. At this time, there was almost no barrel rack between them.

"Kill her, quickly...quickly...!"

Xander's lips turned white.

Temporarily consecrated red wine is not enough to kill a cultist who enters the ring.

She paid a high price, but she was only able to 'injure' her, and during this period of time, she sanctified this place into a place of extreme yang - which suppressed the feminine power to a certain extent.

One ring faces a two ring... or three ring.

Xander Kratof did well enough.

"My injury is not fatal, go quickly! Roland!"

"Go quickly!"

"The low-ring ritualists don't have many means of combat! We have enough bullets to win!"

Roland pulled out his dagger, and holding a gun with the other, he staggered towards the pile of 'mountains of broken limbs'.

Melting skin, crispy bones.

These 'foods' retained the silly smile of being at the top of the mountain before they died, and then, the next moment, their flesh and blood were blown to pieces by the torrent of the extreme sun.

The guests were mostly intact.

Such was the case with Andrew Hyman and her sister.

The same goes for old Benevento.

These people were lying scattered in the mud. Perhaps they would have to sleep in the hospital for a long time.

boom--!

The silver gunfire shattered the skull of a struggling 'humanoid' creature - she was wearing a maid outfit, and her four twisted limbs were like a bloody tall spider.

She was trying to get up.

Then his head was shattered with a shot from Roland.

"one."

Roland shook his hand, and the pepper box wheel tilted to the left for a moment.

Click.

boom--!

"two."

Ms. Jasmine did not faint.

She was covered in burn marks and lay paralyzed in the mud.

In this extremely sunny realm, she couldn't sense any "mystery" at all.

What's more, a second-level ritualist, a second-level cradle of flesh and blood, is not good at frontal combat capabilities.

“‘Skin-changer’. "

Xander Kratof staggered over with his bloody arms hanging down.

Skin changer.

Roland had read similar knowledge in the library.

The Cradle of Flesh, the Ninth Crowned God: Mother's ritualists hold the power to shape flesh, replace skin, and even briefly grant flesh (power) to others.

Just one link of "heartthrob" can make the ritualist's gestures full of temptation. At the same time, they also have a good understanding of the human body structure and are good at extremely detailed and precise anatomy;

And the second ring is what Xander Kratof said: "The skin-changer".

They can use knowledge and "secrets" to confuse their identities by peeling off other people's skin and replacing their own.

This is very scary.

The Inquisition has a whole set of methods for dealing with these people - but as far as Roland knows, they are almost all like Wrench said:

"Cannons to kill mosquitoes."

Unless there is a place like the Tribunal or the Church that maintains extreme sunshine all year round, it is difficult for the ritualist to tell whether a person is 'himself' with just his eyes.

Sprinkling holy water is one method.

But it also depends on the occasion and timing.

Didn't think it was that easy.

"traitor!"

The woman with twisted limbs no longer had a beautiful face. Her bloody face covered with burn marks showed extremely ferocious hatred: "Betrayer!"

She cursed Roland and Xander viciously.

Spit out bloody phlegm at them.

"You, just like your hypocritical 'father', are shameless sinners..."

Swearing angrily seems to reverse the position:

She is more like a righteous executive.

"Seriously, I have never seen a cultist as ignorant as you. Holding a "Feast of Flesh" in a cellar full of red wine - no one told you this knowledge, right? Cultists are like a group of primitive, unintelligent beasts. How do you decide who has the final say? "

"toss a coin?"

Xander took time to control his blond hair - or half-blond hair.

The ends of her hair seemed to have been soaked in red wine for a long time and had revealed their original color:

Light gray.

They were curled up in strands, like the octopus tentacles that were caught by the girl and put on her head before she could grow up and travel to the deep sea, surrounding her face in an exaggerated arc.

"You look like a girl who secretly took a bath in her parents' red wine."

Roland didn't know why he said this, but Xander was very happy to hear it. The girl bent her lake-blue eyes and looked at him with a smile: "You are like my accomplice, Roland."

This indifferent contempt undoubtedly made the cultist lady in the mud even more angry.

"You guys-"

"We will tie you up and take you to the Inquisition. Then, after torture and no information can be found... burn you to death."

Xander interrupted, looking amused.

"I'm curious, are the cultists in the Cradle of Flesh afraid of pain?"

"When you are burned by the flames..."

When Xander spit out the last character, the entire space turned pale for a moment: in Roland's eyes, a straight and sharp thin line suddenly appeared in the white flame waves.

It was as slender as hair, blowing across Ms. Jasmine's neck like a gust of wind.

Then.

Her head just fell off completely.

Dark brown liquid sprayed from the neck.

Roland subconsciously hugged Xander, raised his hand and pulled the trigger!

boom--!

The flames did not explode. The bullet hit an invisible steel wire and split into two halves.

Falling into the bloody mud.

Then, a line appeared in front of them.

Like a shaking sound.

"Good day."

day--

install--

The word expands the line, swelling it into a larger form;

Then, it condenses into black leather shoes, trousers, suit and bow tie.

‘He’ wore a black silk top hat, burgundy curly hair, and a delicate treble clef hanging from his left ear.

"Good day, you two of the Inquisition."

He ducked his feet, rubbed the mud from his soles on the skull's face with a look of disgust, and rubbed it again.

"Next time we meet, I would rather have a drink or two in a clean and tidy restaurant, or listen to Schubert... Of course, I also like the other one, and like his phrase 'Every note must sing,'" A tall order, isn’t it?”

“We read with our ears the whisper in each note, or their calm enthusiasm.”

The person who came looked very young, with a tall figure and extraordinary appearance. His dark brown eyes were a little bright in the dark environment.

Even more special: his voice.

It was as if the gurgling stream was tinkling in Roland's ears, dancing flexibly in the flames in his eyes.

As beautiful as a song.

"Ah, we haven't been introduced yet."

He took off his top hat and held it to his chest, revealing more of his red curly hair.

He bowed slightly toward Roland and Xander.

"I'm Louis."

"Louis Hyman."