The Secret Code of Monsters

Chapter 352 Ch.351 Painful Wandering

Anne Vansittart didn't get the answer she wanted.

She is different from those wandering citizens.

She wanted no pennies, no shillings, no gold pounds, or anything tangible - she had let fly a hope, and now she wanted to hear the fluttering wings of hope in the echoes of the world.

Roland didn't tell her.

He wanted her to continue wandering in the sleeping world, in the dark, lightless, chaotic and terrifying storm land, so that she could not get this news, like a walking zombie, only relying on the occasional aura in her soul to maintain her pitiful self. existence.

He is extremely vicious.

-

It seemed to me that there were only two possibilities for Anne Vansittart's relief.

Roland put on his top hat again and watched the tall woman staggering away, watching as she passed by the muzzles and screams that dispersed in fear. She moved her stiff legs with her head down, leaving bright red footprints step by step.

-

Or Lillian Rose Vansittart died in front of her.

-

Or her enemy.

"You understand liberation."

-

I wouldn't tell her, 'Lillian is well taken care of by me, you can leave without worries' - that's stupid, Wrench.

-

Tooth for tooth, blood for blood.

-

Or she will wander forever with hatred and suffer forever, or...sooner or later she will be led by the soul to embark on the path she should embark on.

"Now he finally looks like a cult leader."

-

You don't understand my kindness, dear.

"I'm used to you talking nonsense all the time."

When the ghosts disappeared, this "field" also lost its source of power.

They stepped into a palace made of glass.

Now, the glass is breaking.

Roland rubbed his face, his expression changed from indifferent to panic, he squeezed his throat, and suddenly lost his mind: "...This, this method was successful?!"

Randolph: ...

Bronte:…

Everyone present:...

Do you think we are stupid?

Randolph also began to rub his face.

Because Roland's acting skills are really embarrassing.

That's so false, Mr. Collins.

"Randolph! I succeeded! I really succeeded!!"

Randolph's face was expressionless, and his voice was as steady as a priest praying silently at a funeral: "...Yes, yes, it's great, Mr. Collins, you saved us."

The women and children cried with joy, while the three Randolph friends exchanged looks with strange expressions.

The whole thing is easy to string together in a smart person's head.

The causes and consequences, and why this young man who is not very suitable for being an actor has to waste time with Randolph...

They knew they had to say something.

"The Goldfinch of the Evans family, the reserve executive officer of the Inspectorate."

Hughes snorted and was the first to speak out: "If it weren't for the young and wise Mr. Collins, we would have almost been fooled and died together with Evans - we are not afraid of death, are we?"

He looked at the last two friends.

"But we can't die in such an undignified way, in the mouth of a liar, under the mouthpiece of a soft pole!"

"And with our wives and our children!"

"How stupid!"

"The Inspectorate has collected taxpayers' money and used it to cultivate such waste?!"

"I would rather ask their superiors, ask the guy in charge of the Inspectorate, ask the director, ask Her Majesty the Queen! This is London! More than twenty gentlemen who made great contributions to the country died like this. ——They didn’t have to die!”

Randolph coughed slightly, which meant: Save these words for when needed.

In short, the Inspectorate is definitely in big trouble.

The three surviving gentlemen also told Randolph before leaving that they would surround Taylor more closely in the future, and invited Randolph and Roland to attend a small private salon held by them in the near future.

They were grateful for the life-saving grace, Roland's and Randolph's.

"Of course, Bohan. We will always be friends, right?"

Randolph shook hands with them several times in turn, and Wen Wen told them that the Tribunal and the Supervisory Bureau were two organizations, and today they should also understand the differences between the two organizations...

Until a scream broke the friendly conversation.

Pedestrians passing by the river spotted them.

Broken flesh and blood all over the ground.

Rows of empty carriages.

…………

…

"With the testimony of those three gentlemen and their families, including the heirs of the Taylor family - this time, the Inspectorate is in bad luck."

An office that feels like spring all year round.

Candlelight and hearth fire come from the same mother.

Enid was curled up on the couch, wrapped in a blanket.

She has been like an elderly cat all winter. If no one disturbs her and she doesn't have to worry about food and drink, she will quietly transform into a stone sculpture and enjoy every nap quietly together.

Only Roland dared to knock on the door without applying - earlier, the other executives had looked at him with awe and complicated eyes.

Later, it became more and more ambiguous.

Once or twice, three or four times.

If Roland Collins never had his legs broken, what was his relationship to Lady Enid Judith?

'Sir, you said Lady Judith is a woman and Mr. Collins is a man...'

The apprentice who was passing by to collect equipment glanced at the back of the black-haired young man, turned around and asked his superior in a low voice.

'Could they be...'

The apprentice thought hard.

‘They can’t be brother and sister, right? Why are their eyes different in color? ’

‘Or, distant relatives? ’

The boss glanced at his stupid subordinate, and was furious when he saw his clear eyes.

Roland Collins.

He joined the Inquisition less than half a year ago.

He is now a formal ritualist.

Putting aside his achievements, just by meeting the cultist for the first time and killing him in a one-on-one situation - just for this, he deserves the preferential treatment given to him by Enid Jutia.

Not to mention some rumors that are widely circulated but no one dares to discuss in public.

Because it is too blasphemous.

No matter how you look at it, these two people should not be able to get together - not to belittle Roland Collins, but if Enid Jutia wants a man, there is almost no man in London that she can’t get.

So...

It’s not his apprentice’s fault for being stupid.

Most people are stupid.

The old boss smiled.

He was old enough to know that the world did not operate according to "logic" -

'That doesn't make sense. '

'It can't be like this. '

But many things are often like this.

It's as bizarre as the stories written by those pens... or even stranger than that.

So...

Miss Judya.

Is this the next successor you chose for the Inquisition...?

He's not even the "Holy Flame"...

Roland Collins.

"Mr. Heller."

The voice interrupted Peter Heller's thoughts.

The apprentice came back with a suitcase containing the materials distributed this month.

The short-haired boy found that his teacher and captain had been staring at the deep corridor, so he couldn't help but look around and whispered: "... Do you think Mr. Collins is..."

Peter Heller raised his eyelids: "What is it?"

"A relative of the adults? Or a cousin or something..."

The old ritualist looked his apprentice up and down, as if he had known him the day before.

"Sir?"

"You are cleaner than I thought, York."

The short-haired boy looked confused: "Me?"

Peter Heller turned and left: "Otherwise why is your head full of water all day long."