The Secret Code of Monsters

Chapter 341 Ch.340 Fuzzy Tide

"I heard Mason Lyle lost all his savings in a previous scam."

In the carriage on the way back, Randolph teased the unfortunate guy - Randolph was a little dissatisfied with the topic of Victor Sala during his performance, but Mr. Businessman did not intend to come to reprimand him like those blue bloods, and stood on the moral high ground. Spray saliva down.

'You should have a sense of humor. ’

Because he insists on theory, Mason Lyle did indeed praise Victor Sala and did not belittle or ridicule his achievements and life.

Randolph planned to ask an acquaintance to which bank Mason Lyle owed money.

"You are like a hungry fox now, even the tiger dares to bite you." This is how Roland described Randolph. He was extremely sensitive now, especially not long after Victor's funeral, and he didn't want to hear any bad words.

"You know, Roland. Victor has done so much for the Taylor family, for me, and even for us..."

"You want him to harbor cultists?" Roland asked.

Randolph laughed: "No, of course not. A businessman has the skills of a businessman, and he will soon know that he said something he shouldn't have said."

Listening to the two men conspiring loudly in the carriage, Bronte couldn't help but think of the flashy gentleman in the carriage: she didn't like his words either, which always gave people a frivolous and unrealistic feeling.

"Miss Halida is not doing well."

Bronte said.

"She might be worse than a homeless person in the city."

——At least they have freedom.

"If she needs help, someone will help." Roland faced the window and said in a light voice, "As long as she insists on watering hope."

Bronte was actually not satisfied with this answer.

Do you need friends to help...'need'?

But she also knew that she was just a maid, and 'just mentioning it casually while chatting' was all she could do - that poor girl was not her friend after all...

Maybe...she should ask Roland?

Beatrice was probably tired from playing, and she fell asleep leaning against Roland.

The car became extremely quiet.

As mentioned before, people from all walks of life go to the circus in the suburbs of London. It is not a problem when the show starts, but after the show ends, the road becomes very congested.

The relatively well-to-do men and women chose carriages, while most of the carriage drivers chose the same road back to the city.

This inevitably makes the traffic flow very slow.

Until, they were slowly crossing the Thames.

"Randolph."

The man who was as sleepy as his sister almost started snoring, and Roland called him several times.

"...Roland?" Randolph rubbed the corners of his eyes, covered his mouth and yawned, then asked where he was.

However, Roland kept staring out the window.

"Taylor gentlemen, get ready."

The gentlemen refer to the ceremonial bearers of the Taylor family.

Gentlemen.

This word is like a bucket of cold water being poured down on me.

Randolph suddenly woke up and his nerves were tense: "Roland?" Without waiting for an answer, he opened the last layer of the small cabinet next to him where cigars and red wine were placed.

A pistol lay quietly on the black velvet.

The magazine is full.

"Maybe no gun needed."

Roland gently comforted the nervous Randolph and the confused Bronte, shook his shoulders, and shook Beatrice awake.

When the carriage slowly stopped and the sound of horse hooves disappeared...

They finally discovered something was wrong.

Some gray-white mist seeped in through the cracks in the door.

It's like the smoke from burning cigarettes, but not choking.

Dense, scattered footsteps kept passing through the carriage.

Soon, something knocked on the door outside.

knock…

Knock knock…

Randolph subconsciously raised his arm and pointed the gun at the car door, but looked at Roland - no one in the car could deal with this situation as well as his friend.

'If you want me to shoot...'

He was so quiet that he only used his breath.

Knock knock.

The knocking sound was much louder.

It's also more urgent.

"Look out the window, Randolph."

Roland did not shy away from his voice and knocked on the glass with his finger.

Bronte turned around and opened the curtains, only letting out a short scream, and the color suddenly drained from her face.

outside the car.

Countless vague shadows surged like a tide.

They seemed to be going somewhere, muttering silently, their bodies stiff, shaking, and moving forward...

Behind the carriage, several carriages similar to Randolph's were parked quietly.

Their coachman was also missing.

So do horses.

In fact, "disappeared" cannot be used - the torn flesh and blood on the ground shows that they have probably turned into countless versions of themselves.

Randolph felt himself sweating.

On the neck, soaking the collar.

Chest feels sticky.

The cold handle in my palm was stained with my own body temperature and soon became slippery.

"...Roland."

He is not an ignorant person, but...

So many ghosts——

The benefactor is above!

Is half the East End dead? !

There is no one alive on the whole street!

He had no doubt that if the door were opened at this moment, the shadows would immediately rush in and tear apart all living creatures in the carriage.

Horse, driver.

They will suffer the same fate.

A sea of ​​ghosts.

What is the church doing? !

"London is becoming more and more unsafe." Roland murmured.

This is the headquarters of Holy Cross.

Knock knock.

The knocking sounded again.

Sensing the movement around him, Roland covered Beatrice's mouth with his backhand.

"Shh..."

He had a gun, silver bullets, and holy water, and could outlast the other carriages anyway.

"Where are they?"

Roland asked.

"Right in the back."

Roland immediately said: "Don't let them get off the bus."

Randolph nodded, turned towards the glass behind the car, and gestured.

"Nothing good ends for the first to attract attention."

It's like stepping on a trap.

For ghosts, resentful spirits and evil spirits, one must first master the 'rules' before knowing how to 'avoid attacks' - just like the girl on the farm who was 'deeply loved' by her father.

By mastering the rules, even mortals can avoid death.

Extremely strong and extremely weak.

Once someone steps on the trap first, a lot of information will be provided to those who follow.

Roland closed the curtains on the side, raised his hand, and opened a thin slit in the curtain facing the front...

Then.

He looked into a pair of lifeless eyes.

so.

The entire carriage should be crawling with ghosts.

Those eyes looked at Roland quietly.

Roland didn't change his expression and silently closed the curtains.

Randolph: ...

Bronte:…

"Ro, Roland..."

Randolph's wrist began to shake uncontrollably. It was an uncontrollable, physiological tremor.

He held Bronte's hand tightly and bit the tip of his tongue fiercely.

The pain that hit his brain instantly pierced his fear.

Bo.

Roland bent down and raised his finger to Beatrice, then took out several bright glass tubes from his windbreaker, unplugged the corks, distributed them to Bronte and Randolph, and asked them to press the mouth of the bottle with their thumbs.

"...holy water, the power of the extreme sun. It can kill the ghosts outside in an instant - but don't use it lightly, Randolph, Miss Bronte. Once you do, we will face..."

Roland seemed to have thought of something.

"Perhaps, we will have to face thousands of angry citizens..."