The Secret Code of Monsters

Chapter 362 Ch.361 Great Divine Power

John Shelley disliked his father.

Rules, rules, rules.

The rules of a private alliance, the rules of the Shelley family, the rules of a father to his son—

There are no rules in this world.

They are all boring tricks to control people, they are shackles, poisonous needles that make people hate to live but enjoy them happily.

‘The rules keep you alive. ’

Nonsense.

The rules made life worse for him than death.

If there is no private alliance, the Shelley family's wealth is enough to create another 'alliance' - they should join the secret party. If they can win the favor of Heffer and Chloe and join forces with other families, the entire country will be under their control. in hand.

All right.

But he is not a fool, and he knows that throwing the gold box away is the only thing he can do - to be honest, how much can this "mystery box" be sold for?

Fifty thousand pounds?

One hundred thousand pounds?

Perhaps, in the eyes of those people, it can no longer be measured by money, right?

Can it be exchanged for a chance to control destiny?

A shotgun that killed the ritual performer - the reason why it had to be a "hunting" gun was that John Shelley really believed that there was not much difference between those people and animals.

It has sharp claws and a brain the size of a walnut.

"You should see more of the world, Mr. Shelley. Stop looking so sad all day long...Why do you always look so worried about business? Are rich people actually working harder than the salesperson in the cigar shop next to the church?"

Huge glass cover.

Subconsciously relaxing piano sound.

Steak that just escaped the chef's hands.

A vintage wine suitable for afternoon drinking.

An exclusive, private box.

Miss Madeleine Tyree's private room at the Ilett Art Society: it was just her, and John Shelley.

The love between the two young people is like a flame in a room's fireplace. It looks tepid from a distance, but becomes more and more scorching the closer you get.

Red wine is the catalyst, the oil on the fire, or the breath of a kiss.

Little Shelly was a little confused.

"See the world? Who allowed me." He uncomfortably pulled down his collar, tearing open the collar that locked his neck, or locked his supposedly happy life, and let out a long sigh of relief: "I'm not afraid of your jokes. , Miss Terry. I may not be as comfortable as the salesperson next to me."

Madeleine Terry covered her lips and smiled: "I don't understand, sir. At least you can sit in the box and have a few drinks."

"And the most beautiful...accompaniment." He blurted out drunkenly.

But John Shelley also immediately realized that he could not say this to Madeleine Terry: There is no need to say much about this young lady's reputation - if she really wanted to, she could cause trouble for most people.

"I'm sorry."

He tapped the corner of his mouth with the dinner cloth and pushed the cup further away.

"No, this allows me to see another side of you," Madeleine Tyree put down the folding fan and held her face up with her hands like flowers, "the real side."

She obviously knows what kind of movements can cause the most damage to a man - especially for a figure like John Shelley, the faint flesh under the hazy silk has long been commonplace.

This kind of 'young hero' who has been under his father's gaze for a long time does not need charm and temptation.

He wants to be worshiped and respected.

"Only at this time is it really you, right?"

Madeleine Terry's eyes were filled with the starlight that had not been seen for many years over the city of London.

She only maintained this movement, but it made little Shelley feel as if she had been forged by iron and fire for many years, and her chest, arms and waist were all covered with awesome muscles.

He swelled, his shoulders became wider and wider, and his shadow almost covered the petite girl across the dining table.

He seemed to have sobered up, but was drunk in his eyes.

"I..." John Shelley opened his mouth, but he really couldn't deal with the sincere girl in front of him - judging from Madeleine Tyree's reputation, this was indeed a rare sincerity on her part.

Perhaps, I am the only man she has ever seen like this.

Little Shelley denied this answer in her heart, but she still couldn't help but fall into some kind of emotional manipulation.

His body was secreting a colorless and odorless liquid called plunder, mixed with red wine, through the gaps in the stomach bag, into the blood vessels, and throughout the body pumped by the heart.

"Indeed I am."

He gave the answer, hooked his fingers, and pulled the red wine glass back.

"This may sound boring: a boring story that would happen in most families like this."

"Huh? No, of course not." Madeleine Terry seemed to understand what he was talking about and shook her head: "Don't you know who my father is? Mr. Shelley, we are the same."

Either to avoid embarrassment or out of pure sincerity.

She took the lead in talking about her daily life with her father.

"...Every day, every day's rules, there are all kinds of rules to follow every day, and there are all kinds of different methods for all kinds of people..."

She frowned slightly, and a layer of melancholy appeared on her sharp face.

But Shelley saw clearly.

"I really can't bear it, but I have to bear it. My father said that this is the responsibility we are born to bear, and it is the price of our superiority. The price of enjoying good food and wine, and having endless money..." Madeleine Terry Holding the wine glass, a few veins bulged on the back of his thin hands: "But I didn't say I wanted it!"

John Shelley sighed and high-fived!

"That's so right!" He shouted in response, and with his head affected by alcohol, everyone became excited: "That's so right! That's not what we want!"

They smiled at each other and clinked glasses again.

Some strange invisible barriers gradually melted like ice and snow in the scorching atmosphere.

They seemed to be closer.

"... I am not as good as you. You are at least a ritualist, a person with "divine power". But me? A man, a man who should stand up, but I have no... What is it called?"

Madeline added: "Qualification."

"Yes, it is qualification. I don't have it, isn't it ridiculous?"

He tried to find the harshness and contempt in Madeline's eyes like the reputation, but he only found regret.

"You should laugh at me."

"No, Mr. Shelley. Qualification is a curse. You don't have it, but you can still create with your own hands and wisdom, which is more outstanding..." Madeline exclaimed: "This is much better than the so-called "Golden Rose" in the circle."

Golden Rose

Hearing this, Shelley was in high spirits and laughed more unrestrainedly: "That man is very interesting. I heard that he is a man who is favored by his pretty face - it is really a shame for men. In my opinion, he not only has no dignity, but also no morality."

"This deception does not always work."

He told Madeline about the interesting stories in the circle, about the golden rose, and the comments of men and women - in fact, he thought Madeline Terry would look down on that person even more.

"I don't know him, Mr. Shelley. I have never seen the rumored "pretty face", and I don't even know his name."

"It seems, Collins?" John Shelley shook his head: "Who cares."

Madeline didn't know any Collins, and like Shelley, she didn't care about the so-called pretty face.

She picked up the wine glass, her tone was like an invitation, but she asked a question.

"So."

She said.

"You want to have the same "divine power" as us, right?"