The Secret Code of Monsters

Chapter 298 Ch.297 Never Ending

Roland didn't know what kind of life Cinder Kratov lived in the monastery. Was it, as Enid said, a filthy brothel that brought pain to people?

Now it seemed that it was others who were suffering.

"Don't be like this, Mary. We haven't seen each other for a long time. I miss you too."

Cinder's standard smile to the outside world was like the claws of a foreign species in Mary's eyes, making her tremble like a sieve.

She buried her head in the soil and said nothing.

"I'm here with my friend. I'm going to the main hall, Mary."

"If you have time, we'll talk later."

She looked down at the bloated dog kneeling in front of her shoe tip, and her mood suddenly became much happier.

It was because of such happiness that she didn't want to leave here for a long time.

This happy soil...

For her, it was the real heaven on earth.

"Come on, Miss Vansittart."

Cinder called out.

Roland nodded to the kneeling woman, and regardless of whether she responded or not, he turned around and followed Shandel.

Some nuns who were walking on the lawn or reading books and chanting scriptures under the trees all looked over - most of them, the vast majority seemed to recognize Shandel Kratov, so they soon continued to do what they should do.

However, it was visibly away from the path they were on.

"She is very afraid of you."

Roland said while observing the surroundings.

When he stepped into the flames, everything in front of him seemed to be covered with a layer of golden mist.

But strangely, he did not feel any difference from the outside...

There is indeed a ritual going on here, and the ritual does cover the monastery.

Strong, vigorous, and long-lasting.

But Roland could not feel anything.

"She is not afraid of me, Roland. She is just afraid of the evil thoughts in her heart, and she is afraid of her own fear."

Roland asked her what she was afraid of.

"Fear is forced to eat several times the amount of lunch and dinner on weekdays, and burst her stomach."

"Then isn't he still afraid of you?"

Xindel didn't need to think to know that Roland probably "misunderstood" something.

"It's not me who forced her, Roland, and no one else forced her."

Xindel said.

"She is atonement."

Mary didn't look like this a few years ago.

She didn't have missing teeth, and her face wasn't as wrinkled as it is today. She was straight, slender, and her hair was always shiny.

She made a mistake.

She was sent to the reformatory.

At that time, it was Xindel Kratov who was in charge.

"All her sins stem from her jealousy and insatiable greed. She uses her own flesh and blood to seduce men, and when she achieves her goal, she hurts them in turn - Roland, she has done this no less than ten times."

"If she is not controlled, she will soon go deeper and use this method more deeply..."

"She will find a more clever shortcut."

"A power different from that of mortals, which allows her to use the coveted flesh and blood given by God more easily..."

Xindel spit out a name familiar to Roland.

"Flesh Cradle."

"When we caught her, guess what? It happened to be her first meeting with the cultists of the Flesh Cradle..."

"I can say responsibly that if we waited a few more months, we would have faced a real, completely crazy cultist."

Almost became a cultist.

A bloated woman who turned back and redeemed her sins.

Roland could hardly imagine what she had experienced in the reformatory to become what she is today.

"Don't sympathize with someone you shouldn't sympathize with, Roland."

"It's not sympathy, Shandel. I just don't understand why such a dangerous person is only detained in the correctional facility?" Roland didn't feel anything about the kneeling woman, but he thought that the monastery was a little...

Not cautious enough?

That was a person who had been in contact with cultists.

If it were the Inquisition, the ashes of her flesh and blood should have been mixed in the mud to cultivate new flowers.

Just detained?

Let her get fat?

Now just sitting at the door?

Shandel smiled meaningfully.

That's good.

If someone who is not familiar with the monastery thinks they are "merciful", then this is exactly what they want to show to the public.

The girl put on a hint of malice: "... If you want to know, I have a way."

Roland's face was straight: "I don't want to know now."

Shandel:...

"Why do you always give up so quickly, Roland, you don't look like a brave gentleman at all."

"In the workhouse, brave gentlemen don't live to be as old as me."

Shandel was stunned, silent for a few seconds, and apologized softly.

"It's okay, Shandel. We will slowly understand each other's past." Roland lowered her head and struggled with the seven or eight overlapping long skirts on her body: "I hope you won't hate me by then."

"Why?" Shandel didn't understand.

This time it was Roland's turn to laugh.

"Smelly cat..."

-

You can't see my memories, right?

"But I didn't say you can't see your dreams..."

-

You still saw them.

"It's your own dream, what does it have to do with me."

Roland paused.

They crossed the lawn and came to a path.

The soft lawn and soil under their feet were replaced by sharp, irregular gravel.

The blood of red camellia is sprinkled on the sharpest edges and corners, and then sucked away by the never-satisfied earth along the gaps between sharp edges.

Roland saw some nuns who 'seemed' to be more pious.

They walked barefoot, their red soles stepping on the irregularly raised drawing paper, leaving a long and gorgeous trail behind them.

"The path of penance."

Xander's voice was very soft, for fear of disturbing these souls wandering during the day.

This is a unique way of practice that Roland has never heard of. And when Xander pulled out the dagger and grabbed Roland's wrist, these wandering brushes seemed to have known what would happen. They only paid indifferent attention to the gravel canvas under their feet, disappearing evenly at the end of the path.

"It won't hurt very much."

Xander pinched Roland's index finger and gently pressed it on the blade.

Just a gentle touch.

A slender but not deep opening was made on the fingertip.

A drop of blood squeezed out and formed into a ball.

It was immediately sucked by another tongue.

"Xander?"

Bo.

Roland pulled out his fingers, wondering what Xander was doing...

But the next moment.

He felt the pain coming from the wound - it was not the pain of flesh and blood being torn apart after a knife wound, but the pain of the wound opening, with countless wasps attacking the enemy's rear one after another.

He was like a drunkard who had been burned by the flames for several breaths. He tensed his muscles instantly, turned his wrists, and threw his arms.

He is no longer an irrelevant person in the fire scene.

The golden flame, burning vigorously, clung to him like a thin layer of golden gauze.

pain…

The constant pain pierced from the fingertips all the way into the brain.

"Never ending."

Xander put away the dagger, and his smile widened in Roland's sight: "Never-ending pain. As long as there are scars... it will never end."

Roland subconsciously looked at the path to the end again.

The pale black veils were withered, but the surrounding plants were extremely bright and lush.