My wife is an immortal black snake.

Page 85

"...I will try my best to meet the needs of the police department. But if that's not possible, we can let the people take initiative and form their own civilian patrol teams."

"A civilian patrol team?"

"In some remote areas, villages would unite to protect each other, and send some people to patrol various places while also conducting trade... We can try doing that. Fortunately, there are still quite a few people with spare time after the 'work-for-relief' program—let's do it this way."

...

Yang Hao is trying his best to take remedial measures.

Meanwhile, Monica had already gotten into the car with the police. Seeing their hurried expressions, the Duke's driver was prepared to drive at any moment. After understanding the urgency of the situation, he stepped on the gas without saying a word and started moving forward.

"Head Maid, please fasten your seatbelt. I will get back as fast as I can—the journey will be a bit bumpy."

"Please do it as quickly as possible. I'm in a hurry."

"Yes."

...

Five minutes after the car started moving.

Although they had already communicated via radio to have the Duchy's army enter the city to take over police patrols, the detailed lockdown arrangements still needed to be discussed with Mr. Joseph. Monica, fastened her seatbelt, took a deep breath, feeling the immense weight of the responsibility on her shoulders—

Just then, Monica noticed that the interior of the car had suddenly changed.

"Eh?"

She paused for a moment, but her reaction was quick.

"Driver! Stop the car immediately, someone's here—"

"Gurgle gurgle gurgle—!"

The driver couldn't stop the car. Just as he stepped on the brake and accelerator, a hand shot out from the transparent glass window right in front of everyone.

The police officer in the passenger seat immediately brandished his knife and severed the hand, but the driver's neck had already been pierced by the dagger. He was no longer able to control the vehicle, and in a desperate move, before the car crashed into the solid brick building, the police officer cut Monica's seatbelt and then opened the door, jumping out with her.

"—Ugh...!"

Thanks to the police protection, Monica wasn't seriously injured when she fell to the ground. However, only two of the three officers who were with her jumped out together; one of the officers protecting Monica was severely impacted and appeared to be incapacitated.

Meanwhile, the policeman sitting in the passenger seat, along with the dead driver, the car, and the assassin, crashed at high speed into the building.

Chapter 181

"Aaaaaaaahhhhhh!!!!"

Lying on the ground, Monica bore the brunt of the injuries sustained during the jump from the moving vehicle. The wounded policeman screamed in agony as he clutched his injured area with one hand. His other hand groped around, seemingly searching for something to ease his pain.

Monica got up from the ground, found him a painkiller injection, and injected it directly into his neck to relieve the pain. Then she took out her communicator and immediately contacted medical units for support.

Not only was she doing this, but the surrounding people also rushed over. They carried stretchers made from door panels and bandages made from rags, and workers from the construction site in the distance were also running over with things that might be useful.

Others were already spraying fire extinguishers at the burning car that had crashed into the wall.

“Miss Monica, it seems the assassin, along with the driver and my other companion, are all dead!”

Another policeman, who had also jumped out of the car and was dazed and confused while clutching his helmet, walked up to Monica and took out a machete to protect her.

"We need to head to the surrounding branches immediately; the assassins are very likely to continue their pursuit!"

"...this?"

"Just leave him there and let the people take care of him temporarily! He looks like he's just got a broken rib and won't die anytime soon! Let's go quickly, your safety must be guaranteed!"

Monica knew she could do nothing but be a burden. So she had the crowd who came to help lift the unconscious policeman onto a stretcher and take him to a safe place nearby. After explaining to them that medical personnel were coming, she planned to go with the policeman to a safe place to wait for reinforcements.

But just then—the crowd who were using fire extinguishers to put out the fire in the car in order to rescue the people inside cried out in alarm. Monica and the last remaining able-bodied police officer turned around and saw that it was the same officer who had been sitting in the passenger seat, staggering and covered in injuries, walking towards them from a cloud of white smoke.

Seeing the policeman clutching his injured hand and limping towards her, Monica instinctively breathed a sigh of relief: after all, as long as the person wasn't dead, there was hope for survival once the medical team arrived. Just as she was about to settle the wounded man down before moving him, the policeman beside her broke out in a cold sweat and stood in front of her, brandishing a military knife.

"Something's wrong, this is fucking wrong..." For some reason, he was incredibly nervous, cold sweat pouring down his face, and the policeman, gripping his military knife tightly, was yelling hysterically at his surviving colleague. "That car, that car that crashed into the building... When I jumped out, I clearly saw the driver's and passenger's seats were completely smashed to pieces. Even if there were people inside, they should have been turned into mincemeat... Now that thing is really strange... Miss Monica?! Run! Run! Run that way!"

The police officer shoved Monica in one direction of the crowd. Monica stumbled and bumped into the crowd. After being helped up and barely managing not to fall, she started running in the direction the police officer indicated, using the crowd as cover.

She didn't even glance back at the police officer, because she knew that if she stopped, all the officer's efforts would be in vain.

......

For Mr. A, his plan was ruined. After silently mimicking the entire car, he couldn't see his target at all, so naturally, he could only follow the sound to make his move.

As soon as he touched the knife, he realized he had cut the wrong person—not Mr. Yang Hao's neck, nor the neck of his head maid, but the driver's neck. And when he regained his sight, he discovered that he was standing by the car window!

...Naturally, upon realizing he was in an inappropriate location, Mr. A immediately used his Originium Arts to disguise himself as the "entire vehicle." After discovering that his target and the other two guards had already jumped out and escaped, he simply waited for the vehicle to crash into a wall and be destroyed, then quietly waited.

This wait lasted for several minutes. He waited until the burning heat on his body cooled down with the help of the fire extinguisher. Then, he used the fragments of flesh and corpses at the scene to mimic the policeman sitting in the passenger seat. Not only that, but to make himself look more normal, he didn't mimic the policeman's weapon, but instead simulated many wounds on his body.

He wanted to use his mimicry to get close to the head maid—even if he couldn't kill Mr. Yang Hao now, as long as he could get close to the head maid and then imitate her appearance, he would have the opportunity to assassinate his target without anyone noticing.

But... his plan failed. The remaining policeman, who was still able to move, was surprisingly quick-witted and saw through his little trick at a glance.

Not only that, the policeman was also dispersing the surrounding crowd, and as soon as the crowd started running, Mr. A began to have a headache—with so many people and such a chaotic environment, how the hell was I going to find the head maid?

"What a headache!" He sighed, mimicking a military knife with his right hand. The same model as the knife in the policeman's hand.

"What an unconscious brat."

Mr. A muttered to himself, preparing to rush up and kill the man quickly, then proceed with the next infiltration.

But just as he crouched down, gathered his strength, and charged towards the policeman who was also rushing towards him, and then halfway there—he suddenly saw a van coming from the other corner of the road, without him even noticing.

"profound?"

"—?!"

Mr. A and the brave policeman were taken aback, but having already launched their attack, they had no chance of stopping.

Mr. A chose to mimic his body into a semi-fluid form as flexible as chewing gum—but he had far too little time. He couldn't complete the mimicry of his entire body, and was hit by the van, losing half of his body. Only half of his body remained stuck to the van's headlight, wriggling unnaturally.

The brave policeman, being an ordinary human being, couldn't accelerate too quickly in an instant; he barely managed to avoid the van by his helmet grazing the side door. Even so, after being hit by a horizontal protrusion made of some unknown material behind the door, he fell to the ground, seeing stars, and only managed to regain consciousness after a while.

The thing that had knocked him unconscious seemed to have fallen off the car. Lying on the ground, he weakly raised his head to try and figure out what it was, only to see that it appeared to be a small flag made from a human leg bone.

Chapter 182

Monica eventually escaped to a police station closer to the accident site. There, instead of police officers, stood a squad of fully armed Ursus regulars—they had been notified shortly before arriving to relieve the police on patrol. Upon noticing a maid rushing towards them, panting and looking hurried, the leading officer placed his hand on the hilt of his knife and stood up.

"Hey! Stop! Stop right now! We don't employ any maids here!" the officer shouted.

"I am Monica, the head maid of the Duke's mansion! I have been attacked and I need help!"

“The Duke’s head maid?! Do you have anything to prove your identity?” The officer looked at Monica in astonishment, but in the end, he lowered his hand from the grip, signaling the soldiers to prepare for battle. “And I need to know what exactly happened.”

“This is mine—no, this is Lord Kosiché’s seal. I was attacked on my way back. The attacker was a lone individual, and a skilled assassin.” Monica stopped about two meters in front of the officer, panting, and took out Lord Kosiché’s seal from her bosom.

“I think I understand what to do.” The officer examined the seal in Monica’s hand, confirming several times that it was indeed Lord Kosiché’s seal. He then ordered the soldiers to draw their weapons, ready for battle at any moment. “But it’s not safe here. Head Maid, please come with us to a safer place—about a five-minute walk from here. There’s a car there that can take you safely to the Duke’s mansion.”

This small police branch was far from safe; it was drafty and couldn't be sealed off, with four windows that could allow an attacker to sneak in. The officer knew very well that his squad of ten soldiers, including himself, couldn't handle a powerful assassin, so his plan was quite simple and clear: escort Head Maid Monica to a safer place.

After a moment's thought, Monica realized this was the best option. After all, the assassin's mimicry abilities made the narrow building seem rather unsafe... However, her greater concern was what if the assassin turned to look for Lord Yang Hao?

She had to inform Lord Yang Hao on the way! And she couldn't go to find him there, because the police there were already struggling enough to protect Lord Yang Hao, let alone a defenseless maid like herself...

...

"Phew... then I'll leave it to you." She nodded to the soldiers, indicating that she was ready to leave. "But please protect me on the way; I need to contact Lord Yang Hao."

"Yang Haoda—uh? The Duke's husband?"

"Yes."

"I understand. Please do not leave our shield wall. We will also contact the soldiers in that direction to come and meet us."

Monica left with a squad of ten soldiers. On the way, the soldiers formed a human wall to cover Monica's escape while simultaneously contacting officers in a larger camp to request backup. They acted quickly, and soon the officers announced that backup was on its way—and to avoid harming innocent bystanders, they had nearby police officers sound the alarms in the area.

“We need to get the people home first, otherwise the convoy might get stuck in traffic,” the officer explained, listening to the sirens blaring. “And this will also prevent assassins from infiltrating the crowd and attacking us. Miss Head Maid, are you sure there’s only one assassin?”

"...There was only one person attacking us at the time."

"Understood. I will assume that there are three people defending the area—now please contact that sir; he may also be under attack."

"...call."

Monica nodded, and under the protection of the soldiers, she took out her communicator and nervously dialed Yang Hao's cell phone number.

She knew how to contact Lord Yang Hao using a communicator, but she wasn't sure if he had been attacked. What would Lord Koschche do if he had indeed been attacked, injured, or even killed during this outing?

She was unsure, and she waited anxiously for the call to go through. The soldier beside her whispered that the support convoy would arrive in two minutes.

"—Monica? Where are you now?!"

As Monica waited anxiously, the call connected. The person on the other end seemed to realize what had happened, and his barrage of concerned questions calmed Monica down after the connection was established.

"My lord, I am currently under the protection of soldiers and moving to a safer place—please return to the Duke's mansion immediately. I am not sure whether the assassin is targeting you or me."

"I'm waiting for the Gauls to arrive. Serpent Scales and the foal are on their way to where you had the accident. Let me know when they get there, okay?"

"Yes--"

My lord... you care about me too much.

Monica opened her mouth, but before she could say the rest of her sentence, she heard the sound of a car driving behind her.

"Damn it! Get out of the way!"

An officer suddenly pulled her aside. She lost her grip on the communicator and watched it fly into the sky. Then, along with two soldiers, they were hit and thrown into the air by a van that came hurtling from behind.

The van struck two soldiers, its blood-stained hood warped inwards unnaturally, revealing the soldiers' flesh and blood along with shattered equipment.

The front of the van, for some reason made of some kind of bone material, had its crooked rearview mirrors straightened by several pale hands.

"I'm still wondering where that little girl who used to watch from the second-floor balcony is now~"

As Monica's face suddenly turned deathly pale, one... no, several faces peered out of the car window. It was a "head" with several human faces sewn onto it, and those faces were speaking in a bizarre, synchronized manner, using their teeth, or mouths covered by wing-like skin, or simply gaping maws that couldn't stop drooling.

The voices were male and female, old and young. These mixed voices eventually formed a cacophony that was neither human nor ghostly, causing the officer holding Monica and the seven soldiers forming the shield wall to turn pale, even losing their grip on their swords and shields.

"So—you're here—your friend, Little Lanka. I'm so disappointed you didn't share her body with us back then—her flesh was so sweet, some parts sweet and sour, others bitter and spicy—it's a real shame you never got to taste it. Alas, it's a pity I've already eaten all the last piece of calf meat I prepared here, otherwise I could have let you taste your friend's flavor before I enjoyed you~"

".....ah."

That was Monica's nightmare. Even just hearing that sound made her tremble.

The man crawled out of the van. He was a bald nobleman dressed in aristocratic attire, with several tooth necklaces around his neck, and for some reason, several smooth, delicate hands growing from his shoulders. Even though the nobleman's face was almost unrecognizable, Monica could still recognize him as the one who had given her such severe psychological trauma years ago... the one who had devoured her friend alive and bitten out her canines.

The nobleman performed a nauseating aristocratic bow to the soldiers. As he bent over, the clatter of silver cutlery echoed from his clothing; his body was riddled with wounds from the cutlery, blood gushing out incessantly—yet this nobleman, no longer truly human, merely wore a grotesque smile. If such a jumble of faces splitting open could be considered a smile.

...

"what..."

Monica could only utter dazed sounds. She recalled what had happened years ago: her friend Lanka lying on the dining table, glistening with oil, being devoured alive.

Monica recalled the anxious look in Lanka's eyes when he was looking for her back then.

Was she expecting him to eat her?

I...

"Head Maid! We need to go!"

The officer dragged Monica, who was no longer able to resist and was overwhelmed by the psychological trauma, the monstrous appearance, and the immense pressure of recalling her unbearable past, running towards the distant intersection like a puppet, completely devoid of thought. At his command, the soldiers, though somewhat panicked, mustered their courage and charged towards the nobleman.

There are six of them! Fully armed and thoroughly trained! They can stop that monster from advancing! If they can delay it for just two minutes, reinforcements will arrive and join them in bringing this monster to justice!

...

But the soldiers were completely wrong.

This deformed nobleman was clearly not someone they could handle.

He simply and elegantly pulled the cutlery from his clothes with his right arm, then grabbed the hood of the van with his left hand. He effortlessly dragged the van forward at a speed faster than Monica and her men could escape, while simultaneously hurling knives and forks at the soldiers.

The knives and forks he threw were useless against the soldiers' shields and armor; they shattered upon impact with the hard armor—but this deformed nobleman didn't care whether they were effective or not. It was merely a nobleman's "etiquette."

If you attack me, then I should retaliate in kind—whether it works or not is another matter, but how can a nobleman not observe etiquette?

"Go to hell you monster!"

A soldier who had already closed in on the nobleman, who was moving elegantly with his van, suddenly stabbed him in the abdomen. His companion then slashed the nobleman's legs three times, especially at the Achilles tendon, determined to stop him from advancing any further.

However, in the next instant, he realized that his tactics were meaningless.