The Secret Code of Monsters

Chapter 351 Ch.350 Don’t do this

The gold pounds in the cash box were obviously far more than they wanted.

They don't cost much.

The ghosts who are not greedy only take what they deserve, women or laborers, children with children or babies in their arms. They watch him quietly watching them, and then, before disappearing, leaving behind a touch of complex melancholy.

The tide rushes in like an insatiable sponge: or the businessman's throat and the politician's butt - the former wants to swallow more, the latter wants to sit better.

They picked up the small, badly worn metal pieces and disappeared in pieces.

It's like being hit by dead cannonballs, dead again and again.

It took half an hour or an hour to gather this tide?

Roland couldn't remember the time here.

But it only took a few minutes for them to disappear.

Not even half of the gold pounds in the box were consumed, and there were already very few spirits left in the riverside square.

They were no longer crowded and became polite. They lined up and came to the box one by one, bent down to pick up one, and then turned around and counted the number of people.

This gave Randolph and his friends an incredible sense of absurdity.

A few minutes ago, these ghosts tore apart more than two dozen living people.

Right in front of them, in front of their eyes.

The fragmentary sleeves, leather shoes and gloves are still soaked in the fresh flesh, bones and unnamed liquid - but now, they are standing in line to receive money one after another as if nothing has happened. , leave.

Another 'person' weighed the coins in his hand and smiled flatteringly at Roland.

‘Either the world is fucking crazy, or I’m fucking crazy. ’

Bohan, Coker, Hughes.

Three Randolph friends and family.

It was Hughes, the square-faced, manliest-looking man with a fine beard, who spoke: “Either the fucking world is crazy, or I’m crazy.”

No one else could give him the answer.

They thought he just wanted to say 'fuck' -

Who wouldn't?

Maybe the world and them are crazy.

"so."

Randolph opened his mouth: "...They killed so many people just for..."

The businessman's acumen for numbers allowed him to calculate long ago how much each person took.

"Just for sevenpence...isn't it?"

This question is the most absurd part.

Sevenpence.

Equivalent to: lying on the bed, taking a cigar out of the box, cutting it, lighting it, and taking a puff.

At this moment, the eight-year-old girl smelling of cigarette smoke in her arms probably costs this price once - of course, if you insist on eating something new, good and clean, it will cost you a few pounds, a dozen pounds, or dozens of pounds. pounds.

Great Britain in the new era, a diversified golden London, must be integrated with the world.

"Fuck, only seven pennies..."

Hughes spat.

"There is really no need to amend the bill for these lowly idiots! They only need seven pennies!" He yelled like he was venting his anger, but the volume was not worthy of his anger.

What are the obsessions of these spiritual beings?

Roland gently rubbed the white snake on his wrist.

They may not be able to read at all and cannot understand any bills or regulations. Compared with the holidays that the gentlemen talk about, this grand parade can bring them the most practical benefits, which is only seven pennies.

For seven pennies, about twenty men were killed, and women who might be pregnant or babies who were still in their infancy...

Is it worth it?

worth.

Roland flicked the brim of his hat.

Sevenpence.

It was worth killing half of London.

That's a lot of money, gentlemen.

Roland turned slightly on his toes and bowed slightly towards the woman in the swaying dress who passed through the spirit body.

She was extremely tall, and her stern face gave people a more chilling feeling than the ghosts who had stared at her before.

She didn't seem to adapt to the clothes. She walked slowly and carefully, but she was respected by the ghosts. They spread out like private soldiers, leaving an open and clean path for her.

Under the gaze of these remaining living people, she came to Roland step by step.

But don’t bend.

"Long time no see." Roland greeted with a smile.

She seems to be different from other ghosts. There is no more decay, but one eyeball is missing.

She had no purpose, she just stared at the familiar golden eyes and black hair.

Anne Vansittart.

haven't seen you for a long time…

Mr. Diamond.

Roland tapped the tip of his staff.

The vague and illusory hem of the skirt moved in the wind like his black hair, as if he and she were just different colors, just two ships in different directions that happened to meet each other and passed by.

"Would a long journey be interesting? I guess you will enjoy this adventure."

Anne's stiff face moved, and a cold...if that could be called a 'smile' appeared.

"...you...you are..."

said Anne.

Roland was not too surprised that he was forgotten: "The world of the dead is also full of despair?" Then, as if asking and answering himself: "The weak are always desperate."

Anne suddenly took a step forward.

Click.

Several guns instantly reared their heads and pointed their muzzles at her chest.

Her neck and head seemed to have been forcibly drilled and spliced ​​with low-quality metal. The little oil friction made the movement of 'turning the head' seem stiff and inhuman, like a doll that had not used its neck and head for a long time, or had not used it at all. Machines for the neck and head.

She glanced at the guns blankly, as well as the trembling hands and tough faces holding the guns - she seemed to be born with the power to see through the fragility behind the mask, whether in life or after death.

"I want…"

The parts connecting her throat, jaw and tongue were also rusty. She spoke without knowing what she was going to say.

"I want..." She opened her mouth, closed it and opened it again: "...what?"

She forgot.

"You want a story."

Amidst the screams of the woman behind him, Roland leaned forward without hesitation and moved his head to her ear - Randolph's friends had no doubt that the next moment his head would be ripped off by the tall female monster. Rip open the chest.

What they feared did not happen.

"You want a story."

Roland put down his heels, then raised his feet, going back and forth, playing a few times indifferently on the spot: "It's a story about a princess, right?"

He blew lightly and moved the complicated lace and tassels on her chest to the other side.

"The princess has found her own path. She is much more powerful than the giant..."

The cold eyeballs seemed to finally focus.

He saw clearly the golden-eyed man bouncing in front of him.

"...She...succeeded?"

"Who is she?" Roland blinked and raised his arms, as if to embrace this dangerous and unconscious spirit: "You chose her, I chose her. She is the best and the most skilled. The wonderful greedy ghost, the most clever night owl, the best emerald who knows how to use a blade..."

"Who is she? The spirit lady?"

she…

Who is it?

Anne Vansittart had long forgotten who she was.

It's just that there seems to be such a person who is much more important than seven pennies...

Much more important than many things.

she…

Who is coming?

The name that kept tearing at her heart and made her linger in the waking world...

"You should think of it, think of it in my expectant eyes, and then make peace with the people who destroyed your world and you. You should forgive all the injustice and pain, show a relieved smile, and melt into the sunshine - —”

The sound stopped suddenly.

The ghost seemed to be able to smell the malice under the skin of the black-haired young man, and the slowly flowing amber quietly solidified:

"Just kidding."

"Don't do that, Annie."