The Secret Code of Monsters.

Chapter 1081 (Ch.1080) Both sides
Similar stories are constantly unfolding throughout London.

Some chose to stay home and wait for rescue, while others, guided by their parents' wise wisdom that was often misunderstood by the younger generation, took torches and headed towards the western district before the sun had completely set.

Game rules.

The son and his parents both believed they understood the rules of the game better than the other.

Would you pay an extra three pounds to hire someone to look for your lost three pence?

"We are human beings! Not numbers!" the young people protested.

'You think you are.'

Along the way, the young man argued with his father quite a bit. They encountered many fellow travelers along the way—all of them had escaped from the East District and were heading to the West District.

'Old people all think the same way, like coffin shells…'

The mother gently patted her son.

The crowd grew larger and larger.

From a few scattered couples, it grew to seventeen or eighteen. By the time they crossed the crossroads safely, the group had swelled to forty or fifty people—a number that might be difficult to count.

They swarmed towards the theater closest to Cross Street in the West End, carrying torches and blocking the entrance.

The guard at the gate was in a dilemma—if there were only two or three rats, he could have dealt with them with a dagger or bullets, and in a disaster, no one would care how rats could breathe fire and shoot blades.

There were just too many people surrounding the theater.

And if bad luck strikes again, attracting rats will only make things worse for the gentlemen and ladies stranded in the theater…

He ran back in a flash and found someone who could make the decision.

This back-and-forth led to the discovery of quite a few well-dressed men and women who were interested in having affairs.

Upon hearing the requests of these "good friends" and good citizens who had come from afar, they urged the guards to open the gates and let these poor people into the theater—even if they couldn't enjoy the same comfortable boxes as them, at least they could have a safe place to shelter from the wind and rain and avoid being bullied by rats.

The guards were in a very difficult position.

Gentlemen and ladies, accustomed to a life of luxury, have no idea that these cunning individuals are most prone to taking advantage. Once these people are let in, he'll be in deep trouble no matter what happens.

"Cold-blooded!"

The gentleman rebuked the guards, asking how they could stand by and watch their fellow countrymen die outside the gate.
"What made you all so cold-blooded? Gentlemen, can you tell me?"

Among those who criticized the guards were wealthy merchants, nobles, and newspaper executives: they threatened to publish the story if people were not allowed in.

This is so scary.

Not a few minutes.

The citizens from the East District managed to enter a place they might never have ever been to before—the ladies with servants had plenty of food, and as they entered the first floor, these women, who had nothing but pity, took out their little pastries and gave them to the families with children.

This makes young people more proud and hold their heads higher.

He was very proud of it.

"See? I told you so!"

He thanked a lady with the most proper etiquette he had learned for the occasion and politely declined the food and water offered by her servant—food and water meant for his elderly mother and father.

"Thank you. But my father and mother already had buttered bread and some caramelized bacon... What a coincidence! We had the same lunch as you. Personally, I don't really like the bacon rolls at 'Black Broom'—the one next to 37 Crossroads is better, although it's more expensive, the taste makes for a fairly pleasant meal..."

The woman gave him a strange look, smiled, and called her servants back, no longer speaking to him.

The young people were overjoyed.

“See? I usually deal with these kinds of people,” he said, following the crowd and the managers’ instructions to go into the theater, showing off to his father as he went. “You saw her eyes too, didn’t you? That was surprise.”

The young man said.

"She was surprised that someone like me, from the East End, would know their manners and the shops they frequented—what did that prove?"

“It proves that I really should have a few more children with your mother,” the old father pursed his dry lips, glanced at him, and said sarcastically, “Don’t lose your dignity by talking to me.”

This shut down the young man.

He rolled his eyes sheepishly, returned to his mother's side, and whispered to her, accusing someone of being ungrateful. Soon...

He became even more smug.

Because the managers happily announced in public: their savior has arrived.

The Queen sent someone.

Right outside the theater.

These true guards went nowhere—neither participating in the subsequent 'cleaning up' of London, nor wandering around aimlessly, but taking advantage of the fog to meet with the moon: they were true warriors, the elite. They didn't come in to disturb the dignitaries, but simply stood guard outside the theater.

mouse?

Even baby mice can't squeeze in!

"What did I say?"

The young man nudged his mother and deliberately spoke loudly: "Who said there was no hope? Look, in the end, it still depends on our Majesty—do you think the city government will just sit idly by?"

His words drew many curious inquiries from those around him.

Ask him about his identity, how he came to have such knowledge, and discuss with him how long it would take to truly clean up the rats in London.

This gave him a good opportunity.

"I think it will not take more than two days, everyone."

He kept turning his head left and right, his two short eyebrows looking just like his father when he was young.

"I bet the East District is already teeming with soldiers chasing away rats..."

East District…

Eastside.

“Lady Enid didn’t teach us to come to the East District!” Fernandez kicked away a charred rat at his feet.

He clutched an empty glass tube in his leather glove, which was riddled with bite marks, while he didn't wear the other glove at all. He brandished the torch in his hand like a sword!

"Roland!"

The boy who fell from the broken wall rolled on the spot, and the holy water he sprinkled was like a golden whip!
The sizzling sound, like oil being boiled, temporarily dispersed the rats for a few breaths. Taking advantage of the retreat of the beasts, Sindel turned slightly, raised her hand, and set fire to the pile of sheets and the worm-eaten bed boards in the room. She moved forward with the fire, setting everything in sight on fire, and then set the torch in her hand on fire, sticking it into a crack in the half-collapsed wall.

The moment the flames shot into the sky, the rat swarm retreated like a receding tide.

"The holy water isn't very effective..." the girl murmured.

Fernandez spat on the ground.

“I’m now your slave, Roland.”

The court was ordered to 'clean up the West Side'.

There was even a list.

Roland, however, insisted on heading straight to the East End after inspecting the old Taylor mansion—he had been instructed by someone that if he were to take any risks (to fulfill his duties as executor), he should bring his old friends from the East End: William Cordoni and his little Alice.

“My uncle is…” Roland shrugged, but before he could finish speaking, a rustling crawling sound came again from the shadows at the end of the alley.

“Damn it. If I get bitten, you’ll have to pay—” Fernandez took the torch from Sindel and pulled out a bottle of oil from his belt buckle, ready to throw it: “Don’t let them surround us!”

“I’m not stupid,” Roland replied casually.

He was responsible for looking after the rear.

"You think you're so smart? Every single time you ask me for help, it's never anything good—"

As he watched the surging gray tide approach, a ferocious look appeared on Fernandez's face.

The rats are back.

(End of this chapter)