The Secret Code of Monsters

Chapter 322 Ch.321 Yi Laite Art Exhibition

Victor Sala was not guilty of any serious crime. Because he hasn't even encountered or even taken a look at the real "invisible art" - the person who was deceived and got a fake thing really can't talk about the punishment.

Furthermore, there is the relationship with Randolph Taylor. Roland only told him the real fate of idiots who bought or used the "Invisible Art".

This is scary enough.

Randolph invited four or five doctors (Roland thought the actual number was more than this) to diagnose Victor in stages.

The results obtained were not very optimistic.

"They call that stuff 'white soil.'"

In the carriage, Randolph told Roland: What Victor suffered from was not a rare disease.

This is a new 'terminal disease' that has recently emerged.

Sufferers will first experience thickening of the skin and a significant reduction in pain.

Then, their spirit will become more active, and their vitality will seem to be so strong for the first time. Even if their rest time is greatly shortened, their daily life will not be affected.

Then.

Such was the case with Victor Sala.

The body is petrified - this is just a symptom, not really hardened and unconscious like stone.

But at this point, it’s what’s under the skin that’s really troublesome.

Offal.

"Those who are sick, like Victor, realize something is wrong only too late."

White soil.

This is a material named by doctors that is similar to clay, but has higher plasticity than clay and is stronger after being shaped.

Anyone suffering from 'petrified disease' has been exposed to 'white soil' for a long time.

"For Victor, white clay was an excellent sculptural material, and incorporating this cheap mud into plaster made it easier to create smooth lines."

"For some 'low-status' people, clay is also a very good building material. Houses mixed with clay are much cheaper than ordinary housing - and so is the rent."

Randolph lowered his head and pressed his eyebrows again and again.

In the past few days, he had been running around for Victor a lot.

Some really well-known scholars, researchers in schools, or doctors all need him to visit in person - and these people are obviously more interested in the 'white soil' than Victor.

"Cheap materials."

Cheap is the key word.

"Don't let Mr. Sara touch that thing again."

"Yeah, Roland, but it's like telling a gambler to stop touching cards." Randolph sighed: "It's too difficult for him... I really don't understand that he has to hook up for that so-called 'pursuit' My own life?”

Roland didn't understand either.

In a way, he was the same kind of person as Randolph—definitely a different kind of person than Victor Sara.

He didn't understand what this weirdo who lived in a cold and damp suburban villa all year round was pursuing - just like Randolph said, if you just want praise, the praise in the newspaper can be bought based on words or paragraphs.

As long as there is money.

"He wants recognition, Roland...maybe? He's been like this since he was young."

Randolph said.

Indeed, the art exhibitions of the Eliet Art Association cannot be selected with a little money - not all the participants are 'poor people' like Victor Sala.

There are also artists among the rich.

If money is used, Victor Sala’s turn will be even less likely.

"In order to maintain the so-called purity and sanctity, those old things will not openly accept donations or sponsorships." Randolph took out a flat cowhide bag from the box, which contained a silver, shaped Fantastic cigar cutter.

"New style of "Golden Smoke". "

He cut two pieces and lit them for himself and Roland respectively.

The window was open a slit.

The smokers puffed away their smoke.

"I can't convince him, Roland. His father died in a shipwreck trying to help my father. In fact, I couldn't answer his question that day."

For friendship? Or, just... ashamed?

A trace of sadness flashed in the blue-violet eyes.

"...But I never thought that he would contract an incurable disease at this age. He has no wife or children yet, and he is the only one left in Sarah's family."

The carriage passed through the cross street.

Drive to the Illette Art Exhibition.

As Victor Sala said, since his work has been selected for the exhibition, it will definitely appear in the exhibition - Randolph wants to see it, have a look, or maybe do something for his friends.

If his father had survived, he would definitely be a well-known stonemason now, perhaps even better than him.

And Victor Sala is continuing in his father's footsteps...

Walking on a painful and difficult road.

"I have sent servants to guard the door of his house and will never let him touch that 'white soil' again."

It's actually too late.

But this is all Randolph can do - he puts down his work and works for his friends all day long, which is the limit of what a "Tyler" can do.

“I have reported ‘White Earth’ to the Inquisition.”

Roland said.

But this thing…

Apparently not taken seriously.

Enid seemed to have known for a long time, and many executives said that they had seen patients suffering from "petrification disease": if a house only costs five pounds a year (two shillings a week), who cares whether it is safe to live in it or not? What will happen... what kind of stone disease?

die? That's for later.

As Xander Kratof said, some garbage that only grew to her ankles was born with physical defects:

Their eyes cannot see further.

They are ‘fearless’ and only care about the present. Even if they swallow a blade, as long as the factory is still bubbling with thick black smoke tomorrow, they can grin and laugh until their mouths bleed.

‘We have no choice, Shandel. ’

But Miss Bookstore disagrees.

‘Who has it, Roland? ’

‘Who has it?’ The young man in the carriage muttered to himself.

‘I guess it’s useless, right?’ Randolph turned around and blew on the cigarette butt. The dark flame flickered with the airflow, “I asked about ‘white clay’, to be honest... it’s really tempting.”

Because the profit is too big.

—— It’s like selling mud as bread.

“… I also have friends in the mining business. I heard that ‘white clay’ can not only be used as building materials, but its refined derivatives can also make bread whiter and keep food fresher for a longer time.”

Randolph said.

“So, I dare not intervene.”

There is no contradiction in this.

Randolph is a smart man. He knows that the higher the profit of an industry, the higher the corresponding entry threshold.

——But if the profit of an industry is so high that even the father of all things is greedy, and every coin earned is stained with blood...

Then, it is not suitable for the Taylor family.

The Taylor family does not do such high-risk business that suddenly rises to the clouds and blinks into hell.

They are not "Chloe", "Hefer" or "Benevento", and they are not even "Heyman".

"Golden Smoke" does have gray party shareholders and is indeed a member of the "Blue Blood Nobles". He made friends with a genius of the Tribunal, perhaps a future upstart. He joined the new king, became a royalist, and donated to the Tribunal.

But the Taylor family can't do "big things".

Because Bellos has only one son, Randolph Taylor.

And Randolph Taylor himself is not without worries.

His father and his sister are like the vibrant heart in his body, only protected by the not-so-hard bones.

"I really hope Mr. Edward Snow can come back soon."

Randolph hoped that the doctor who "cured" his sister could perform another miracle like the previous one.

Roland believed that many things in this world often develop in the direction that people least want to see.

"We are here."