The Secret Code of Monsters

Chapter 342 Ch.341 Dilemma

A large number of ghosts pass through during the day.

It's almost impossible.

——It is difficult for mortals to witness the movements of ghosts with their naked eyes.

Unless it's not the sun above their heads.

unless…

They are in a "field".

Roland twirled the ring on his little finger.

"The gathering of a large number of "secrets"...you can understand it as gold pounds. A large number of gold pounds built an airtight 'house'. We're trapped in this house right now - so you can clearly see the room's occupants. "

Randolph also admired Roland's ability to teach without changing his expression at such a time.

Although he hopes that he will never need it in this life.

"I'm more afraid of ghosts than cultists. Roland, what should we do?"

The businessman who calmed down began to check the firearm in his hand, poured out the bullets, and replaced them with the flat-headed silver short bullets that Roland stacked on the table.

——But to be honest, no matter how calm you are, the heartbeat that keeps rumbling in your ears is vibrating on every fragile nerve.

Timidity and fear.

How could you not be afraid?

If the ghosts around were replaced by dogs, it would be enough to scare most people.

quantity.

There are too many.

Roland pressed the holy water with his thumb and waited quietly for the knock on the door.

No one can guarantee that when facing a strange spirit body, they can immediately find out its rules of conduct - if there is such a person, with the "generousness" of the Holy Cross, they probably will not recycle the holy water at a "high price".

It's like blasting a maze with artillery.

They have no other good solution.

"If you think of these ghosts as..."

"It's scary enough to be a dog, Roland." Randolph sighed and said the scene he just thought of.

"How about a boy?"

"What?"

“The priest of Holy Cross will come faster than a sneeze can’t wait.”

Randolph: ...

Bronte:…

This is no time for joking, Mr. Collins.

That's out of character.

The master and servant looked at each other silently.

Bronte: 'I told you there was something wrong with him. ’

Randolph: 'I just didn't expect it to be so unusual. ’

Click.

A sound similar to the breaking of wooden slats.

Maybe it wasn't coming from the carriage, maybe it was just outside, just a scrap of wood on the road or something that a ghost had stepped on.

But it was enough to scare Beatrice.

She threw herself into Roland's arms, hugged him, and cried.

"Don't worry, Betty."

Roland stared at the wall: a lot of "secrets" were pouring out.

Sturdy and rigid cabin…

It should become soft but pliable, like tendons that cannot be torn or torn.

Soon, Bronte was surprised to find that everything around her had become 'soft' - like a springy ball or a thick and tough band.

The despairing glass window was blown around by its tragic fate, like a piece of clear, bubble-free jelly stuck to the ribs.

The frame is also bent.

Even under the heel of the shoe, under the blanket, the bottom plate that carries all the weight was stepped hard to make a small hole, but when Bronte loosened it slightly, it bounced back playfully, and even made a 'boom' sound.

This absurd scene not only dispelled fear, but even caused the three people on the carriage to fall into some kind of cognitive confusion for a while - the brain focused almost all its attention on the exploration and exploration of the strange world in front of them. For a moment, he ignored the dense footsteps outside the car and the palm prints pressing on his muscles.

“Incredible…”

Randolph looked at Roland steadily and saw his loose ponytail fluttering slightly in the windless carriage. He guessed that this might be the application of the "secret" that mortals could not see - he suddenly felt extremely disappointed or bored. , an inexplicable sourness came to my heart.

——As for another world, he thought he had seen the whole picture when he was very young:

A wizard who can talk fluently with animals, a fire lover who reaches into the fireplace with one hand to pick up coins, a cross believer who can seal wounds, and a slender cavalry soldier who can knock down a dozen strong men with his bare hands.

He's seen quite a few.

But none was more shocking than what he saw today.

This is not about the strength or weakness in strength or the size of the scene.

A 'mortal' like him couldn't figure out how these people differentiated between strong and weak or high and low - Roland only showed him a kind of 'wisdom': how to apply one's power through the brain instead of the muscles.

Wisdom, imagination, even, like the pictures described in those forbidden books.

This was Randolph's initial expectation for "mystery".

The magical anticipation he had as a child.

It's close now.

"Incredible, Roland..."

Randolph carefully touched the swaying glass with his fingertips - just as he expected, the glass was as soft as a woman's breast, with ripples swaying when he touched it.

The originally hard substance turned out to be like water.

This is so much cooler than washing your hands with flames.

"The power of the ritualist..."

Randolph muttered.

Roland ignored him and Beatrice, who was secretly peeping in his arms, and cast his sight at the widest angle to the two cars in front. The flesh and blood that was originally full was like the beach under the scorching sun after low tide.

This was the second time he felt the exhaustion of "secret".

Compared to the first time, the night he became an apprentice after meeting Aurora, today he understood why the higher the level of ritual practitioners, the more stingy and cautious they were in every opportunity to show their abilities.

His "secrets" were all taken away - and then, they condensed into several "real" shadows in the distance.

A man wearing a top hat, a woman wearing a pastry skirt.

They were in a state of disarray, shouting, holding hands, and passing every carriage together, moving forward among the ghosts.

Soon, they disappeared at the corner of the street.

…

Reflection:

Concentrate attention and materialize the imagined things or phenomena.

Materialization requires a certain degree of concentration and consumes a lot of "secrets".

Very susceptible to interference.

The phenomena or things after materialization have no power and cannot affect the waking/sleeping world.

'It's just an illusion. '

'But it won't always be an illusion. '

…

Roland clenched his dry palms.

Perhaps it was the effect of the great ritual "Sword of Judgment" that he had completed. He did not feel the fatigue and weakness described in the book, but just...

emptiness.

"Roland?"

Randolph called him softly.

"...Look." Roland smoothed the carriage and the drooping glass, allowing Randolph and Bronte to look forward along the carriage.

Roland's "reflection" was only for one purpose.

He did succeed.

- Unless the carriage was completely smashed, no one would be stupid enough to get off the carriage first and use their head to explore the way for the people behind.

Unless.

Someone has already done this and it is safe.

When the men and women in the carriage saw the two "people" holding hands and running along the path in panic, and the ghosts around them had no reaction to this, they realized that perhaps these translucent ghosts would not pose too much threat to them.

They ignore the living.

Sure enough.

Soon, a brave man got off the carriage.