The Secret Code of Monsters

Chapter 343 Ch.342 Knight without Armor

Roland was thinking about something.

If "horses" are different from "humans", death might make sense...

So, how did the coachman die?

There must be some reason for their death.

"Watch him carefully."

The brave gentleman was alighting from one in front of Randolph's carriage.

Throw a hat first.

After a few breaths, the door opened.

A leather shoe was thrown out again.

There was no movement.

Then, a foot.

Another one.

The middle-aged man with sparse hair was sneaky, and he probably hadn't been this careful when stealing sex with his cousin - he put his center of gravity back, with only one foot on the ground outside the carriage, half of his body hanging high on the armrest. In the car, it seems that as soon as he senses something is wrong, he will use his arms to pull himself back into the car...

Calm and calm.

The ghosts just stared at him silently.

It's like watching a mime.

He got off completely - without first announcing the good news to the people in the carriage or asking who got off, he first picked up his leather shoes and put them on, then picked up his hat and put it on, adjusted his trousers, which were torn apart due to too much movement. neckline.

He took out his pocket watch and looked at the time.

"Heroes also need to be decent."

Randolph scoffed.

It can be said that he is extremely profound about the behavior of certain types of people.

"He's going to die," Roland said.

And these slightly cold words also made Bronte quietly hold on to the skirt folds on her legs.

She was no Randolph, no friend of Roland Collins. From the perspective of a stranger, or an onlooker who only stays at the level of 'knowledge', Mr. Collins's attitude towards life is extremely contradictory.

This calmness and indifference frightened her, but it was also reassuring.

She thought about it, and suddenly realized that she was also caught in a 'conflict', and couldn't help but sigh.

She saw something truly extraordinary today, and she remembered what she had said to him before about 'who doesn't allow it' - this made her feel sincerely ashamed.

Like discussing how to boil an egg with the Queen's chef.

He'll probably think I'm an idiot.

She saw again Beatrice, who was holding Roland's waist and pressing her little face against his chest. She saw Mr. Collins staring into the distance through the glass, and she might as well stretch out an arm to wrap around the trembling blond hair in his arms. girl…

Where is Mr. Randolph?

What will you think of me?

Randolph…

orchid…

The young lady suddenly looked up and found that her 'Mr. Randolph' was holding the back of the sofa, staring at the 'dying man' with an expression on his face.

Look at Roland holding Beatrice again.

Bronte:…

"He's going to die."

Bronte subconsciously turned her head and followed the sound.

When the decent gentleman straightened up his appearance and was about to speak into the carriage, an arm was placed on his shoulder.

A shadow was behind him and whispered something.

The man almost jumped up in fright, hurriedly waved his hands, shook his head, and was about to retreat into the carriage - he seemed to have heard something or said something, which immediately angered the ghosts around him.

They swarmed over him, tearing at his clothes, his hair and the skin beneath them like hungry hyenas.

Soon there was blood.

His arms and thighs were torn off. They were as light as the wooden dolls collected by Beatrice. The joints only needed to be slowly rotated in the opposite direction, and they were broken cleanly with a snap.

Of course, that gentleman's cutting was not very clean.

Roland covered Beatrice's eyes and held her tighter in his arms.

Randolph watched the whole process calmly, until there was a scream in the car, attracting more ghost inquiries, and then two other slender arms with leg-of-mutton sleeves were thrown out...

He slowly sat back down, tore the hand beside him that was struggling with the pattern on the pleats of the skirt from the skirt, took it, and held it in place.

"Don't hold me like a skirt, Bronte."

"…gentlemen."

"We won't die here." Randolph soothed softly.

What's interesting is that when Randolph witnessed the scene of flesh and blood being torn apart, his pale face turned an unnatural red color - the unknown is scary, but once it is no longer mysterious, it becomes the slave of courage. .

"We're not going to die here."

Bronte subconsciously clenched the larger hand and recited it silently.

Broken limbs and blood caused the long street to fall into a long silence.

But as mentioned before, when the unknown is no longer unknown, there is no lack of courage to stand up, follow the ancient tradition, and lead his people on a golden road - at least, the young man who got off the car at the end, probably Is this how you imagine yourself?

He has brown curly hair parted to the side, and the gold fringe on his collar button and the cloak embroidered with gold thread all show that he is extraordinary - including the two gentlemen who are guarding him with muskets on their waists and daggers on their chests.

"...Listen to me, ladies and gentlemen." He miraculously passed the 'torture' of the ghosts, and after giving the correct answer, he walked freely through the blurry gray ocean with his entourage.

Then, knock on the door from car to car.

"listen to me."

"They won't swarm up, tear open the carriage, pull you out like a cat chewing a mouse's vertebrae, then pull you and throw you away - if you don't want to, just listen to me."

His voice was loud, but the ghosts around him turned a blind eye.

"'We're with you all the way', just say it to them, it's very simple, isn't it? All you need is a little courage, a little courage to stand up for your family and your partner!"

He raised his arms and shouted, and the golden sunlight shone on his angular face.

"Gentlemen! Show your courage!"

"Come down!"

"We can't wait here forever until it's irreversible!"

"Get out of the car!"

"Solve this trouble like a man, or die like a man!"

"Like a man".

The effect of these words is like pouring cold water on a hot pan of oil, like putting your head in the mouth of an open crocodile and stabbing its throat with your hands - few men in the carriage can stand this. provocative.

‘Like a man’.

If a man says: You should be like a man - then you'd better prove to him that your fists are strong enough and that you are more like a man than him.

And if a woman says, you should look like a man...

Then it's a sad story.

Generally speaking, most sad stories have the same ending, but the process is wonderful in its own way.

‘Like a man’.

Also like a spell.

It will soon replace 'charge me' on the battlefield.

"It's a pity that the horses are dead. A knight without a horse is not called a knight." Randolph joked, seeing the team gathering slower and slower: "Are we going to answer the call of the great master?"

"Randolph."

"Roland?"

"Did you bring any money?"

"Of course? How can the Taylor family go out without money." He kicked open the cabinet door on the right.

Roland:......

Why would anyone put a whole box of coins in a carriage?

"Then you have to ask my sister why she has become obsessed with it recently." Randolph patted Bronte and bent down to take out the box from the cabinet - three boxes were stacked on top of each other, each filled with coins of different denominations. coin:

There were gold pounds, and there were shillings and pence.

"I still have a lot of bank notes with me, but the amount is not large."

Randolph's hand stirred among the coins, and then he took out a bunch of yellowed tickets from his pocket and stroked them a few times in his palm.

"How much is the total?"

"Not much, maybe...a few hundred pounds? I left it for Betty to go shopping...what do you want it for?"

"Stay alive." Roland glanced at the gradually expanding team: "Most knights without horses and armor will end badly."