The Secret Code of Monsters

Chapter 429 Ch.428 Words and Fire

Twenty minutes ago.

When the three people went upstairs to rest.

Only old Moore and Peggy were left in the tavern.

They talked a bit about Nina Moore and Henry Street, including her taking the three to the mine and then to the factory--old Moore agreed.

"I hope you make some big friends, good friends, real friends."

The man bent down to collect the debris on the ground, set out two glasses, and poured whiskey.

"I kept it privately. It's not cheap." His voice was low, he picked it up and drank it all in one gulp, stopping the girl who was about to speak: "I won't blame you, Paige."

he said.

"At least these years, I never called you "Street" - which proves that I don't regard you as the same as them. "

The man stared at the girl with messy hair, the girl who was once called "wild boy", the girl who was watched by the men and women of Inns Town growing up.

Regardless of her status, they did see her grow up little by little.

"That's not your fault." Old Moore lowered his eyes and poured himself another glass: "I can't promise you not to do anything, Paige. I want to be with my Nina all the time... but I can't find the chance. ”

"Those who were sick were quickly taken away from the cave - those who often worked were not allowed to come into contact with us without authorization..."

"You know, I do think about that."

He spoke silently, and Paige listened silently.

"I can't wait to break into Street's manor with a musket and shoot that heartless waste to death! Doesn't he know who made Street and Inns prosperous?"

The man was holding the counter with one hand, extremely weak.

"...it's all the damn miners."

"It's not Henry Street."

Old Moore was discouraged, but his chest was still heaving violently: "...Those three friends of yours are very good, Peggy. They are very good. At first glance, they are rich people with extraordinary backgrounds. You have to make friends with them and get close..."

Peggy scratched her hair, lowered her head, and rubbed her toes on the ground: "Then live in a big city?"

Old Moore suddenly turned his head and stared at her: "Otherwise? Wait for your brother to kill you?"

"He wouldn't do that."

"The reason he doesn't do this is that his brain is abnormal. You know those mysterious methods, you have also talked with those weird people, and you even..." Old Moore choked, and after a while, he lowered his head and said apologize.

"No, that's who I am, Moore." Peggy didn't care: "My brother may want something, maybe in the very distant future, he wants to use me to complete some 'ritual' - that is also very far away, at least Decades from now."

"At least I can stay with everyone now."

"This is a good opportunity," Old Moore advised her: "Take advantage of Miss Shelley's affection for you and leave Inns Town with her, as far away from here as possible - if the hell that the Father of All Things said really comes to the world, I will It must be here.”

Peggy didn't answer, but instead talked about factories and carriages, what Rose and Kingsley told him on the road.

Imply, or express her.

"...What?! They actually want you...this...this is simply..." Old Moore said "simply" several times, but then he discovered that there are no negative words after "simply".

Simply - great?

It can only be expressed this way.

Because it occurred to him that Peggy's last name was Street.

If what Kingsley said is true, then as long as he kills Henry Street...

A sharp look flashed in Old Moore's eyes.

But after a few breaths, it turned into depression again, emerging from the top of his head, blending with sweat and sticky oil stains.

There was nothing he could do.

That Henry Street was a big deal.

Not only does he have guards and guns, but he also has what Peggy said - a character who can do tricks...

"If I came to see you in the middle of the night, armed with a pistol..."

"Sir." Peggy raised her head suddenly and finally got angry: "I was worried that something like this would happen, that's why I didn't agree to do this! If you all died, what else would I have left in that empty house? significance?"

"After that fire, only you are my relatives."

She spoke sincerely, grabbing Old Moore's wrist hard, with fire in her eyes, and almost coughing out blood from her throat to express her worry and anger: None of you are allowed to do such a thing.

The withered wrists slumped.

Old Moore despaired of his powerlessness, unable to give the poor girl any help - but then he thought that he seemed powerless to do anything in his life.

Wife, daughter, brother.

Paige Street.

The miners living in Inns Town are forever powerless. This is a curse that is deeply imprinted in their blood. They give birth to their offspring with trembling, and then continue to spread in the blood of their offspring endlessly.

"I…"

Crunch.

The door was pushed open.

Old Moore cut off his words and turned around.

The man who pushed the door open was a man whom Peggy had just interacted with the day before, Mr. William, whom Peggy called the black-nosed man.

He still had the same arrogant look, but now not only his chin but also his neck had eyes, so that he had to raise his head very high to see the two people talking at the bar.

He was wearing a straight dress, as if he was going to a banquet.

Pretentious pig.

Old Moore heard his dissatisfied coughing sound, and his mood became even worse: "I'm afraid you won't come here to drink?"

"Oh, of course." William was like a dancing awl, walking his legs cautiously, for fear of being stained by some dirty things in the tavern, and blackening his originally pure white soles - when the figure of a person doing this Bloated, even more ridiculous.

"Yeah, if I were still sober and wise for a day, I wouldn't be able to drink in this place..."

He paused for a moment, with sarcasm on his sharp face: "So you call this sour water-like thing 'wine', it's unbelievable."

Old Moore said angrily: "Get out! You are not welcome here!"

"You'd better welcome me, otherwise, you will miss a very rare opportunity." William touched his increasingly pregnant belly (which was full of wealth and knowledge), straightened his tie, and took ridiculous dance steps. Go around to the bar.

He took out a letter pressed with wax.

"Ahem." He cleared his throat and said with a strange voice: "The real owner of the Inns Town Mine, Baron Henry Street, invited his sister to attend today's banquet."

After saying that, he smiled narrowly and raised his sparse eyebrows.

"It's a temporary invitation, I'm sorry."

This is undoubtedly insulting.

For real people.

"Take your letter and get out!"

"Oh, if I were you, I should let the recipient of the letter, a decent lady, make the decision - not you, a miner who lost his wife and daughter..." He suddenly made a surprised expression: "I almost forgot "Oh, your daughter is not dead yet."

Old Moore was going to take a musket from under the counter and hit him.

"Just put it here." Peggy pressed his hand and looked at William.

The bloated, spherical man with the mole on his nose.

"I received the letter, but I may not keep the appointment, Mr. William."

The man raised his head higher and said, "This is so rude, Miss Street. You should be with truly noble people and be taught by them, rather than hang out with a pariah who is not a—dying woman."

"Do you remember who your relatives are?"

"Except for the miners, all my relatives died in that fire, Mr. William." Peggy said coldly: "You should have nothing else to do, right?"

William snorted, his eyes scanning the faces of Peggy and Old Moore several times with disdain like a victorious rooster.

Then, first turn your feet, waist, shoulders, and finally your head - complete the turning action and leave without looking back.

He spat when he went out.

It wasn't until the sound of horse hooves faded away that Paige breathed a sigh of relief.

She looked at Moore, whose eyes were red, smiled, walked around the counter, and began to clear up the chairs that were not placed properly: "Unpack them for me, Moore."

Old Moore lowered his head and said nothing.

He was ashamed of his cowardice and was actually stopped by a girl. He did not give the black nose two bullets on the spot.

"Open it, I have to know what he said, sir... sir? Don't make me tired anymore."

The girl pretended to be relaxed, which made Old Moore even more miserable.

He tore off the paint with rough hands and feet, unfolded the letter inside, shook it, and was about to call Peggy and hand it to her——

Old Moore didn't know how to read.

But this moment.

His eyes scanned the tissue paper.

It's amazing, as if I can understand these twisted 'words' - if they can really be called words.

He understood.

He seemed to be able to read it out, his eyelashes and lips trembling rapidly from time to time, in the dust floating in the tavern.

A fierce flame surged through the blood.

Burning on his gums, scalp, and every inch of his unclean skin.

Like a torch.

All the internal organs were sparkling.

He is burning.

He couldn't hear the screams nearby, couldn't feel the cold water splashing on his body, and didn't know who was slapping his clothes and charred flesh.

He felt that this tavern was not enough for him to burn.

The temperature gets higher and higher, burning through the counters and roofs, melting the green or black bricks.

Then, destroy the entire tavern in one fell swoop.

He continued to burn, burning the land and the roots of the land, spreading throughout the town.

The animal skins and wailing flesh are the fuel, allowing him to jump up and fly to the dragon's lair and the king's territory - he will melt the city walls, repel the soldiers, and burn into the most noble golden cup of precious stones at the banquet. .

Drink it in one gulp by the unparalleled man in the world.

It is time for him to set fire to the highest crown of the sent world, and let the heavens surrender, softened to sugary juice, and drip with viscosity to touch the earth.

'I'm burning. ’

he murmured.

When Roland and the other three rushed down, he still maintained an unrecognizable smile - maybe he couldn't even see the smile anymore.

The man knelt on the ground with his hands clasped together.

Corpses resemble pilgrims' regrets.