The Secret Code of Monsters.

Chapter 1006 Ch.1005 Stereotype
Theodore told Roland that the apprentice at the wanderer's camp quickly discovered the true value of "dream creation" after selling him the secret technique "cheaply"—it meant too much intangible wealth.

"...Greed leads people to destruction."

The knight sighed.

soon.

Driven by his own equally foolish greed, the foolish apprentice rampantly sold the secret manual in the camp—he only wanted gold pounds or bank deposit slips, his aim being nothing more than to accumulate wealth to a certain extent, change his identity, move to a different city, buy a quasi-noble title, and become a carefree lord.

but.

Who allowed it?

"When I found his body, not only were there no money or secret techniques, but his head, lungs, and heart had also been removed..."

Roland was not surprised at all.

This is an answer that most people could guess.

Unless you are a prostitute, a tycoon, an aristocrat, or a writer, never flaunt your abilities.

"I have a good hole," "I have a big manor," "I have a good bloodline," "I have twenty good lovers and a body full of diseases"—besides the above four types of people, Roland really doesn't recommend that others flaunt their "special characteristics" indiscriminately.

At least Enid never talked about her tongue with anyone other than him.

“Therefore, I would like to use information about this secret technique in exchange for your help,” Thackeray said.

"...news? Not a secret technique, but news?" Roland repeatedly confirmed.

The man nodded: “I think we both understand the value of this spell, Mr. Collins. In my opinion, ‘knowing in advance’ is important enough—you can collect the secret fragments of ‘dream studies’ before other ritualists through the Inquisition or some other private channel…”

"Isn't that important?"

Roland said, "Of course it's important, but now I know. How can you try to trade me for something I already possess?"

Thackeray's gaze toward him grew increasingly strange.

"How can you be as shameless as a merchant facing gold?" He believed that since he had revealed the secret first, the other party could also abide by the rules, be moral and cultured, and fulfill the promise on the other side of the scale—in fact, Roland would.

But he insisted on teasing this hypocritical knight.

It's interesting.

“I never said I agreed, Mr. Thackeray,” Roland said, feigning an inability to tolerate the slightest injustice, raising his chin in an undisguised display of his self-assured genius. “I never said that. You insisted on saying it, without even giving me a chance to stop you…”

Thackeray looked at him like he would a prostitute who had just finished fastening his pants and then snatched his wallet.

How could you do this?

Roland glanced at the other man's clenched fist without showing any emotion, indicating that he still didn't care about the other man's 'pleading' expression—he thought his imitation was perfect, but in Thackeray's eyes, it was indeed extremely hateful.

The blond man took a deep breath.

He was the most likable gambler: not aggressive or hysterical, and willing to accept defeat.

"Ok."

He said.

“Alright,” he said. “Mr. Collins, you’ve really impressed me…”

This man's inherently wicked appearance is like that of a paper mill worker's child, destined to die in a paper mill: Theodore Gabriel Thackeray demands of himself the highest standards in the world, a morbid demand that doesn't exist in the human world and only circulates in rumors, legends, or forbidden stories.

and so.

He cannot get angry, slam the table, or accuse the other party of being immoral.

After all, it was indeed he who was 'reckless' first, just like how both men and women should assume that they have ridden wild horses together many times before marriage.

"You are truly extraordinary. I must take my leave now."

Theodore maintained the most basic courtesy, even bowing slightly to Roland after he stood up.

This time, it was Roland's turn to chase after and 'intercept' him.

Theodore couldn't fathom the shameless man's intentions. After much suspicion, he solemnly warned him that people must keep their promises: "If you truly have a big and clear mind, you should know that only fools don't keep their promises. Some jokes shouldn't be made lightly."

Roland helped the man back to his chair, apologized politely, and asked him why he had a "big and clear mind"—wasn't a small mind respectable?

Thackeray said that wasn't the point of his whole statement.

He was now beginning to understand the personality of the golden-eyed man opposite him: vicious like a wildcat, unpredictable, and not as loyal as a dog.

“Using a stray cat to describe a person is usually a compliment, while using a stray dog ​​is a derogatory term. This shows that we all hope to be surrounded by loyal stray dogs, but we don’t want to be described like that by others. — Speaking of which, Mr. Thackeray, with your personality, you’ve probably been fooled quite a few times in life.”

Thackeray proudly stated that he only deals with people who follow the rules and rarely gets fooled.

Oh…

And a cultist?

“Of course. Whether it's a righteous religion or a cult, there are those who follow the rules and those who don't—am I right, Your Excellency the Executor?” The blond man subtly mocked Roland, making amends for his earlier 'joke': “If you agree, then I'll have to tell you all about it…”

“Call me Roland, Mr. Thackeray. If you can maintain this good temper, we can probably become friends.”

Thackeray was first surprised, then broke into a bright smile: "I thought so too."

Regarding the Just Church.

He has 'special' sources of information.

The blood-soaked swamp that night made no sound, but in reality, the church was in turmoil—debating whether the Thunderstorm Ritual should still be performed, about the next arbitrator, about the murderer, about whether to notify other Crowned God sects…

It's like lawmakers insulting each other over some 'unreasonable' bill, cursing each other's mothers for having only one head.

Roland had indeed heard nothing—nothing about the Justice Church ritualists approaching the Inspectorate or the Tribunal, demanding they arrest that powerful, manly cult member…

No.

The Justice Church has been calm these past few days.

“That’s just because they’ve blocked the news. If I go on, you…you’ll probably be even more surprised, Roland.” Thackeray awkwardly corrected himself, chuckling at his own clumsiness.

"Even more surprised?"

“Even more surprised, Roland. Because I heard that Terry has returned.”

Thomas Terry.

The arbitrator who had previously 'disappeared'.

After Roller's death, he miraculously reappeared, took control of the situation, and blocked the news.

“Something’s not right…” Roland murmured.

“Something is definitely wrong, but that’s a matter for the Church of Justice, Roland. We are not ritual practitioners of the Church of Justice, nor are we followers of Libra. Heretics cannot—”

He started lecturing again.

Roland yawned: "I know, a hundred times, a thousand times, ten thousand times, my lord knight. Next time, perhaps you could send a squire to give me the task..."

Theodore sighed and said that Roland's lack of discipline was beneath his dignity—he was, after all, an executor, the sword of the gods, and the agent of the pure fire of the world.

His every move represented the court and his own surname.

If it is noble enough, then I should be worthy of that nobility.

If its glory is only in his generation, then he must be even more strict with himself to continue that honor.

Theodore.

The man paused: "Roland?"

The latter pointed.

"Look, there's a crack on the table."

(End of this chapter)