The Secret Code of Monsters.

Chapter 1030 Ch.1029 The Power of Grin Cohen

The fire destroyed so much.

Too many people, including Green Cohen whose face was burned, have lost their hope.

Doctors and nurses were busy with disaster relief, moving through waves of cries.

Many people were burned to death in their sleep.

Some unfortunate accidents did happen, but some people survived—such as the critically ill patients who lived closer to Little Leighton.

This ever-vigilant little spy, once the best soldier, even slept with one eye open at night. When the flames emitted black smoke, he immediately sensed danger and notified his superiors—Edward Snow, Kingsley, and Florence Nightingale.

The doctors, who had stayed up all night, rushed into the flames.

That's how Green Cohen was rescued.

He was held up by two strong hands and dragged out of the biting trap, heading towards the coolest part of the moonlight.

He stared intently at the wooden house he had filled in during the day, his hoarse, scorched throat calling out the names of his wife and children.

Two unfamiliar men abandoned him and, without saying a word, rushed into another cluster of burning houses.

One after another.

The fire burned all night.

Until dawn.

The flames and the cries departed together.

The surviving patients or those who were not ill sat along the scorched earth, staring blankly at the collapsed 'black mountain'. Some of the more insane ones, dragging their legs or arms that were scalded with oil, spent about twenty minutes figuring out where they were, then walked over with numb expressions and crawled into the collapsed, charred ruins.

The doctors didn't have time to pay attention.

Too many people needed urgent care and had to return to London, back to places with abundant supplies.

ASAP.

It must be done immediately.

At dawn, Williams Jenner, his face covered in soot, made a decision and sent several of his most 'famous' students into town for help—including Edward Snow.

soon.

It quickly became afternoon.

They arrived late, accompanied by a few patrol officers and an elderly police chief.

"Look what you've all done?!"

The old sheriff's anger came out of nowhere—at least, in the eyes of these surviving zombies, there was no doubt about it.

Who...did what?
Williams Jenner hasn't let his blood sit still these past two days.

He almost fainted from anger again.

"Look what you just said?! Why is no one putting out the fire?! Where are the soldiers guarding us?! Where are the members of the Church of Justice?! Police officers—what are you trying to do?!"

The old sheriff rubbed his big nose, looking impatient: "We still need to go back to the city to rest, and then move supplies first thing tomorrow morning... Do you guys only live off trucks?"

He didn't like the pungent smell here and pulled a handkerchief out of his jacket.

"...I told you we couldn't be distracted when dealing with these people. Look, look, someone might start a fire, burn down the house, and then think they can put it out..."

He turned to speak to his men behind him, and Kingsley looked at him with an increasingly peculiar gaze.

This person...

It seemed completely unsurprising—this was a fire that burned down the entire temporary ward; anyone with a modicum of common sense would have jumped a few times, screamed a few times, and asked what had happened…

No.

He seemed prepared for this shock.

The detective subtly moved closer to Edward Snow and asked him a few questions in a low voice.

He remembered that Dan Bach wasn't taking a day off today.

This unfamiliar face shouldn't be here.

"...Alright...alright! I knew all along what these ignorant and uncultured people could do—frankly, it's normal that so much money has been spent on you, only to be wasted in a fire. Otherwise, how could they be poor when the empire is thriving?"

The old police chief coughed a few times and beckoned to another of his men.

“Notify the city to send some men… at least a few to check before midnight, we still have to wait… Yes, sir, my word doesn’t count, I’m not from this country—”

Williams Jenner shoved the students aside, pulled something from his waist, and grabbed the sheriff by the collar.

Florence finally saw it clearly.

It was a nail he had picked up from the fire.

Slender nails.

The tip was pressed against the old sheriff's throat, almost reaching his trachea.

“Now, tell that damn blind superior of yours, whoever he is—immediately, right now, send soldiers to pick up the patient…the Inspectorate, the police station, the church, I don’t care who they are—just half an hour, you old bastard. If I don’t see them here, you’re coming to hell with me…”

The sheriff was terrified.

He had never seen such ravenously hungry eyes. "I can't—"

The nail is pointing forward.

“Yes! Of course I can—Mr. Jenner! I can! Go quickly! Go and inform them! Please don't—I—I'm already—I'm too old—”

Kingsley's eyes flickered slightly.

Mr. Jenner?

His pronunciation was accurate.

Green Cohen, one of the first to be rescued from the fire, fell into a coma—as he faced an unbearable grief, wounds on his face and body struck him.

He was in a daze, feeling as if he were swaying in a narrow leaf boat with the rising and falling waves.

Someone took off his robe, which was riddled with holes and burn marks.

Someone applied a cooling ointment to him.

Feed water using a hose.

He was placed in a dry place, and until he woke up, he was dreaming of being with his wife and little John…

There were also some rustling crawling sounds.

The sound of some kind of animal burrowing or gnawing.

In the dim light, he heard footsteps, fragmented conversations, and the clinking of utensils.

'It's so pitiful...'

'Pitiful? I think we're the pitiful ones. We were just here for medical treatment, but now quite a few have been burned to death. If I had known, I would never have followed...out of London.'

The other party seemed unwilling to complain about this topic and instead moved on to something more worth discussing:

'I happened to overhear Edward and the dean talking yesterday…no, of course I wasn’t eavesdropping! It was just a coincidence…yes, I heard them say something about the fire, something that seemed to be related to the vice-dean…no, of course I believe it…I believe it…'

He hesitated for a long time, neither saying that he believed the old dean nor the vice dean.

'...No, I don't know why. Mr. Potts has no reason to do that...If you ask me, maybe it's one of these people. Weren't there people like that in town before? Trying to use fire to dispel poison, they accidentally burned their mother and wife to death...'

Green Cohen listened numbly.

Until the conversation gradually faded into the distance.

Another strange voice slowly bowed and stepped onto the stage with a charming and elaborate gait.

'Come quickly…'

it says.

'I've finally seen you…'

It said lightly.

Green Cohen felt as if he were bound to a wooden board by a thin, invisible rope. He seemed to know he was dreaming, yet he couldn't force himself to wake up.

The voice was speaking in his ears, sometimes here, sometimes there.

Make him afraid.

'Don't be afraid, my master…'

Who is your master?

Glynn mustered his courage and asked a question.

The voice actually answered.

'You are my master.'

it says.

I?
Green Cohen wanted to laugh.

he?
A useless man who lost his wife and children, was burned all over his body, and was almost unable to survive.

I am the master of poverty, and I will be the master of nothing else.

'You are, of course, my master.'

There was a hint of laughter in his voice.

At least...that is the case now.

A chilling scratching sound came from inside the wall.

Green Cohen asked who it was.

Or something else.

'strength.'

it says.

'I am your strength.'

(End of this chapter)