The Secret Code of Monsters

Chapter 363 Ch.362 Miraculous Power

Do you want to have divine power like us?

After these words, the atmosphere inevitably quickly fell from ambiguity to a dangerous abyss.

Madeleine's sharp face became strange under the flames of the silver tin candlestick, as if the best painter nowadays had left an unpredictable, shaking shadow in a sketch on the other side of her face.

She stared quietly at the man with dry lips and teeth. The end seemed to be mounted on the neck of a snake, stretching and stretching in John Shelley's sight...

Until it reaches his desert.

Leave a shower of rain in the form of the birth of the Messiah.

She kissed him, and after a blink of an eye, she was in front of him. Her soft skirt and her dignity were kneeling beside John Shelley's straight, spotless trouser legs, with her head raised.

It neighs like a snake that makes the hair stand on end.

She was hinting at him.

"You want to be like me, don't you? My man."

she said.

Hold his hand.

The cold hand, like a ball of solidified milk, melted into the man's hot palm. Something flowed into his palm, through the sweat and skin, cheering like a bitch waiting for a pirate, lifting her long skirt and dancing barefoot in the harbor.

He seemed different from the last second.

"Watch it, my man."

The kneeling man guided him to look at the soft wax pierced by silver tin spikes, letting him gaze at the soft bones of the white wax, and stare closely at the flames burning like the human soul on the soft bones.

"The candle flame is flesh and blood, and the wick is bones. Our souls are burning..."

She whispered, holding his hand slightly harder.

"I will lead you dizzy through the darkness."

"I will give birth to your wings when you leap deep."

"I will watch you die one after another, and then wait for you to be born one after another."

A strange feeling lingered.

John Shelley found that his senses had become extraordinarily sharp:

He could smell the fragrance of the food on the table, like a baby with a newly born nose; he could see the stubble of candle wicks clearly and distinguish the number of tangled strands in them; he could hear the crackle of the flames tearing dry wood in the fireplace, Outside the door, across the corridor, in another hall, I heard the murmur of the piano player's fingernails tapping the keys.

even.

He could hear his heart thundering.

He smelled the perfume on Madeleine's body, the sweat in her armpits, the pungent smell left by the washing of her clothes, and even the strong strangeness under the cotton socks she had wrapped for too long that made the spear soldiers tighten their formation. Sour.

There's also a hint of blood.

He never opened the door.

Just like a blind man who has never opened his eyes and does not know that there can be so many colors in the world - the painter's misfortune is that when he sees the colors, he will return to darkness the next second.

"Light your heart, John Shelley."

she said.

"Blow it out."

She took Shelley's gaze with her invisible hand and directed it to the candle in the candlestick.

Aiming at the burning bean.

"Blow it out."

She urged gently, but before Shelly's lips moved, she released a hand to hold him down.

"Don't use your lips and throat, don't use your lungs and gills."

"Think about it, my man, my dear John..."

She is the best teacher, and she is as good as the tutor who taught him etiquette:

He taught him to be kind and calm in danger. Always maintain the calmness of a man, the pride of a noble man, and the unmovable dignity of an upper-class gentleman.

And she only taught him one thing:

Open your eyes.

"Think about it, John. As a baby, how would you blow out a candle that was just out of reach..."

A magical substance, or an invisible thought—that's what John Shelley saw: something passing through his body, or, to be more frightening, his brain.

But he was willing to be a fool if his brain could retain this magical feeling forever.

‘Blow it out. ’

he said to himself.

The bean sprout jumped a few times, as if it really felt the brain, or the invisible wind.

It was squeezed into a plume of gray-white smoke, whining like a 'chi', and the next second, it was blown blind.

"very good."

John Shelley heard her speak—words that had opened the door before, but this time closed it.

The cold feeling was like a sticky tide covering the holes in his body that were not fully opened: they blocked those airy, recorder-like sound holes tightly, covering them layer by layer, and after drying they became It became one ugly scab after another.

He fell from the sky back to the earth, with his divine power in front of his eyes, turning into gray-white smoke on his neck that was blinded by the candlelight.

He watched it go away.

"No…"

He yelled and sat up, the chair legs leaving a long grinding mark on the carpet.

Everything came to an abrupt end.

Like a hallucination, or a dream.

Madeleine Terry stood up early, held up her skirt, and sat back opposite the man.

Pick up the wine glass.

Take a sip.

She didn't speak, she just pushed the matchbox slowly, picked a candle that was destined to die, lit it, protected it, and let the blown out candle light up again.

Then shook it off.

Put the used ones into the fish soup on the table and insert them into the fish's eyeballs.

John Shelley swallowed, his throat growling.

"…Miss Madeleine."

Madeline raised her lips slightly: "Now, you won't call me 'Miss Terry' anymore, right?"

Little Shelley looked down at his trembling hands. His back was sticky and his nose was sweating. "I, I just..."

"It's what you think, John. If this is an illusion, you should pray for it a few more times."

incredible.

Shelley thought so and said so. When his body cooled down and his mind returned, he became even more enthusiastic: "How was it done?"

"Not very legal, sir."

"Screw the law! Tell me, Miss Madeleine, how did you do it?!"

It should be said: How did you allow me to master divine power?

Madeleine knew what he meant.

"A little trick, John. If you, like me, have performed rituals, then you should be able to master these powers that should belong to you..." Madeline held her chin with the heel of her palm, and raised her fingers with clean and slender fingers. Wrap your fingernails around your loose hair.

She was a little distracted.

"But it's not legal."

Little Shelley didn't care if it was legal or not.

It’s not legal for poor people to live, aren’t they still everywhere?

"I can pay."

He paused and added:

"A lot of money."

Madeleine smiled.

"You know how many unqualified people this ritual will bring hope to. You are a businessman, Mr. John Shelley. How much do you think it is worth?"

money…

Shelley was silent.

This is no longer about money.

"I hope to gain the friendship of the Shelley family, and we might as well take our relationship further - but before that, my man, you, you have to try to see if you can complete this ritual..."

Madeleine licked her lips.

"There is no turning back, have you thought about it?"