The Secret Code of Monsters

Chapter 644 Ch.643 Golden Eyed Cat God

"The Silver Spindle was built on a miserable month. The great sun sets in the west, but people who are as miserable as the month cannot sleep for a long time."

"We must be more skilled than prostitutes, otherwise we will be as derelict as birds unable to fly. We must have the innocence of sixteen, the maturity of twenty, the composure of thirty, and the indifference of forty. At the age of fifty, he is considerate and welcomes the call of death early——"

The woman holding the candlestick is the only person in the house who can hold a source of light.

Like other believers, she wears a long and thick robe and walks on the wooden boards that are sometimes upturned or empty.

Like a long snake with its trunk on fire.

Then.

Pause behind someone.

"Why?"

she asked.

The hoarse voice made people feel uncomfortable as if a sharp blade was cutting through rusty iron.

"Why?"

she asked repeatedly.

"We worship the spindle god and will use that unkind power to open up our world with our own hands - a brand new world without pain and humiliation..."

She lifted the candlestick slightly upward.

The flickering firelight illuminated every face under the hood: determination, enthusiasm, suspicion, fear.

The owner of the candle laughed silently.

Foolish people always do this.

And when the unstoppable force sweeps in and destroys all the obstacles they fear, these people will become more fanatical than any religious person - the lady was right.

They are destined to succeed.

Although she could no longer remember the lady's appearance, name, the month she appeared, and what she said...

But she knew that there should have been such a lady - maybe she died and was sacrificed in the confrontation with the police; maybe she lost her courage and was executed by someone early...

Faint memories.

That doesn't matter anymore.

"tell me."

"How can we make them jealous, make them fearful, so that they dare not even mention our name with their lips and tongues - tell me, should we use a hammer, or poisonous wine, a dagger, or a rope..."

"When we ask for our lives, should we laugh or cry?"

She suddenly bent down and stared quietly at the profile of the silent woman in front of her.

"tell me."

she said.

"...F-ma'am, I don't know..."

The 'cultist' being watched has a square face with an upright profile, and his speech is nasally with a lot of northern accent.

"Country girl," the woman holding the candle slowly turned her face with the help of the flame, and her eyes scanned every woman on the round table in turn while burning, "I heard a piece of news."

She slid her fingers across the back of the chair, one after another.

She came to the back of another chair and leaned down again:

"Someone betrayed us."

She lay next to the woman's ear, almost biting off her earlobe through the hood: "Who is it, Allen."

The woman named Ellen trembled.

"...I, I don't know, Lord Carlo."

"Yeah, even though I was told that a bunch of police were at your house for an hour - you can still say 'don't know', right?"

Allen was horrified.

She raised her head slightly and looked helplessly at the black robes on the round table with her eyes hidden in the hood.

These people who used to have intimate conversations with her now remain silent.

The terrifying silence made Ellen's senses extremely sensitive - she had never been more frightened than now, especially when the hand went around her neck and strangled her neck, starting to tighten little by little.

She was isolated from the round table and fell into a trap filled with giant pythons.

They wrapped around her, trying to strangle her until she became one with the chair.

"I didn't say anything!!"

"Lord Carlo! They beat me! But I can't do anything-"

She started screaming and thrashing.

He slapped his bare arms with both hands and slammed the table hard.

Her legs kicked wildly like a drowning child, as if this could teach her body to get out of the strong armband - she felt that the thing on her neck was getting heavier and heavier, and she was spitting out frog eggs from her lungs. of bubbles.

The hood fell down, and the firelight illuminated her face full of wounds.

The cultists of Silver Spindle remained silent.

They were either excited, or fearful, or had various unknown thoughts in their hearts - but they all remained quiet to respect the unchangeable judgment from the agent of the gods.

"The blood of our fellow citizens is a disgrace."

"But Spindle will never show mercy to betrayers..."

A long while.

Carlo slowly let go of his arm.

What was left was a body that was no longer struggling, a chair that was dripping water, and a floor that had endured a bloodless death in detail.

Just like a death row prisoner waiting to be hanged or shot, this 'bloodless trial' only compresses and then compresses the sinner's fear before death, and displays it vividly and vividly within thirty seconds without any euphemism.

"Let us not debate in vain without anyone recognizing our contribution - my sisters, my countrymen, my closest congregants."

Carlo walked around the limp corpse, and the combination of leather boots and floor exhaled the fire in the room, inviting the audience back to the white winter where all things were withered.

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"What do we rely on?"

she asked.

Tonight, questions symbolize terror.

"Knife and poison."

A woman replied in a low voice.

"What do we rely on?"

Carlo was not satisfied and went through the questions again.

"Blade and poison."

This time, more people responded.

She asked for the third time.

In addition to getting a louder response, a discordant noise appeared in the ensemble--

"We rely on blades and poison!" The believers whispered in unison.

"Of course we rely on men."

The discordant noise appeared.

For a moment, almost all the believers felt the coldness that froze their hearts: they were worried that it was their "compatriots" who spoke such treasonous words, and they were afraid that there would be another corpse tonight-maybe more people would be implicated...

For example, themselves.

Everyone.

The good news is that they don't have to worry about this: before the crisp sound pierced through the trembling of this last night, Carlo was the first to discover the "unnatural" place in the room-the curtains were slightly opened.

Half a green eye was looking at them curiously.

-The visitor quietly approached the windowsill, lifted the window upwards, climbed in, and listened to an interesting conversation.

This series of actions did not catch anyone's attention in the room.

"Who are you?"

"Why does everyone start their speech like this?" The curly-haired girl sat on the windowsill, her two high leather boots knocking against the wall: "Who am I? You can call me Victoria."

Carlo saw her pull open the curtains and found that there was only one person, and couldn't help but sneer: "Where is your crown?"

"In my husband's hand," the curly-haired girl shrugged: "I wear it during the day and he wears it at night. One crown satisfies two people, and the ministers should not have any objections... They don't have the habit of drilling into other people's cabinets, right?"

Carlo narrowed his eyes and looked at the girl who was talking nonsense.

She touched the cold iron on her waist, listened quietly for a moment, and her heart gradually settled down.

"Pagans!"

She glanced at the uneasy women and immediately shouted: "We rely on sharp blades and poison! Our gods protect our flesh and blood!"

The girl tilted her head: "Your gods?"

"We believe in the god of spindles! As long as we are still pious to Him, we will always be vigorous! Never fall into the male spider web--"

The green-eyed girl was furious: "Nonsense! There is only the golden-eyed cat god in the world!"

This caught the lying woman off guard.

She...

What did she say?

What cat god?

What eyes?

Carlo frowned: "There is no such god...Girl, you are blaspheming the gods."

"Yes, I made it up," the girl said jokingly: "It happens to be the same as yours."