The Secret Code of Monsters.

Chapter 1056 Ch.1055 Coster's Silent Grip
The strange object that the old master risked his life to bring back was definitely not that pipe—William didn't know what James Shelley and Tom Barca had brought back from the dream, but he was sure it wasn't the pipe that Thomas Terry had thrown into the rats.

indeed.

Making a strange object into a portable smoking paraphernalia is a good way to avoid suspicion, but Shelley's enemies are not fools either.

His former master was no exception.

When the ritualist, his steps growing increasingly sluggish as he moved among the rats and flesh puppets, looked at the old man lying on the floor, trembling in pain, and met his calm eyes—he became even more convinced of this.

Whatever it was or what its purpose was, William received his old master's final instructions.

'Go and protect Lillian.'

is it?

or--

Compared to this 'lady' who doesn't even have Shelley's blood...

I should be protecting James Shelley.

William had his own ideas.

—If Lillian Rose Vancittat really fired that useless blank shot, he would gladly give his life to repay the Shelley family's young mistress.

Can…

Lillian is not.

She is not a member of the Shelley family.

Although this girl is very nice, but...

Having made his decision, the ritual performer no longer hesitated. Ignoring the rage blazing in old Shelley's eyes, he ignited his cloak as he dodged, using the flames to briefly disperse the ever-growing horde of rats. He leaped toward James Shelley's position, the metal shards he carried cutting off the tide's path like a blade array.

A few stragglers tore open William's ankles, only to be immediately pinned to the floor by a nearly dull dagger.

The panting soldier looked around.

The entire room was crawling with rats—except for the wall with a hole in it where he had come in.

Jump down…

Perhaps that's where the hope lies.

No.

wrong.

Even with their old master with them, they couldn't escape the rats' pursuit after jumping down.

His thoughts became increasingly viscous.

William suddenly thought: perhaps he could escape first, summon Lord Balka, or find the ritualist who maintains this "field"—a field that encompasses the entire manor. Even at the eighth ring, how many "secrets" can one squander?
And then there are these rats…

That's absolutely right.

A voice inside my head whispered a suggestion.

'You are the finest "Iron Cavalry," William. Having seen so many battles, isn't your judgment more accurate than that of your aging master?'

Crimson moss grew wildly in the soul.

What he desires most.

The most urgent.

The most difficult and uncertain thing to judge seems to be that another version of myself is helping me.

'Run away!'

it says.

'Escape and come back! Quick! This is a good opportunity!' The moss that had started spreading from the corner of his clothes had not attracted William's attention, and he even applauded and cheered as he continued to use his superb skills—now, they had completely torn off their disguise.

This leaves the body's owner with no way to ever recover.

Do not…

No…that’s not…it’s not…

The soldier, who was kneeling on the ground, suddenly clutched his head in pain.

The dagger, about to be destroyed, fell to the floor, the impact of metal against rotten wood deafening.

He started talking to himself, his expression shifting between struggle and laughter.

"A remarkable will."

Thomas Terry almost applauded William. He stepped over the disemboweled girl—lying in the densest part of the rat swarm, like a beautiful and rare sacrifice made solely for the rodents—who longed for her but avoided her because of their command.

“You have a good man, Mr. Shelley.”

Thomas Terry said.

He's been playing pranks for too long; it's time to get down to business—for example, make James Shelley and Lillian Shelley, this father and daughter, suffer a mix of pleasure and pain, and then give their body parts as collectibles to his daughter…

Of course, of course.

He had to start with his 'father'—Mr. James Shelley…

"Do you like Changzi?" Thomas Terry shook his wrist.

"Your daughter's."

He walked past William, who was tearing at his skin, and intended to stand next to old Shelley—but then frowned and shooed the rats away.

These dim-witted little monsters only obey Tom Linus's orders; they are not so willing to follow the commands of this "second-class messenger" who carries the scent of his "master."

When he gave those more sophisticated and detailed instructions, these monsters, whose skulls were bulging with pus, went completely unconscious.

Linus is not a "herd" after all.

"Go away."

Thomas Terry crushed a bewildered mouse with the sole of his shoe, surrounded by several puppets, and approached the ritualist kneeling beside Shelley.

“My time is running out, Mr. Shelley. Let’s get to the point quickly—you see, I lost a daughter and found her again; you lost a son, don’t you want to find him again?”

Thomas Terry licked his lips.

"I have it done—"

Time stands still at this moment.

Even blinking felt as difficult as breathing in a jar of sticky honey—an unprecedented fear finally appeared on the face of this sinner who intended to set fires everywhere.

Five minutes after the pipe hit the ground.

That peculiar "secret" reappeared.

It was even more intense than it was five minutes ago.

Undisguised, as if it were the power of the "Holy Flame" path he had seen and felt, a heavy hammer that would never argue with anyone—this made Thomas Terry react instantly.

That pipe wasn't the real 'target'.

It may also be a rare object.

But it wasn't the one that threatened him.

Only clever but shrewd businessmen…

sucker Punch.

He grinned maliciously, his fingers lightly pinching together. With a single command, the retreating rats and the monsters surrounding him would swarm forward once more.

James Shelley will not have a second chance.

Then...

Did you eat his two legs first?

It has only two legs.

He wanted to keep the old man's 'old spot' so he could use it and see the painful yet pleasurable expression on his face—

Thomas Terry opened his mouth in excitement.

It's always open.

Just like time had stopped a moment ago.

The raised sandbar separated the flow of time: beneath Rose's outstretched palm, a large hand covered in lividity intertwined with her fingers.

"Coaster's Silent Grip".

It can restrain one or more targets within a 30-foot range.

of course.

cost…

It's not low.

"Finally, it's happened..."

Rose breathed a sigh of relief.

She had long noticed that the rats didn't seem to be very 'obedient'—at least not very obedient to Thomas Terry's commands.

and so.

They should have another owner.

such as.

The true high-ring ritual practitioners are the ones who unfold this "field".

She was just waiting for him to abuse her, or abuse old James... If he wanted to take revenge himself and have his fun, he would have to stop this gray wave—then he would never have another chance to give the order.

Rose won't give it to him.

—When in crisis, think like an observer.

Mr. Kingsley, it seems I should really call you 'The Great Detective'.

(End of this chapter)