The Secret Code of Monsters.

Chapter 338 Ch337 A Long Mission

Chapter 338 Ch.337 A Long Mission

The Mudball Circus has not been doing well lately.

Not only from the actors' performances - most obviously, from their leader, the owner of the entire Mudball Circus: Mason Lyle.

He had rarely appeared on stage with his 'children' before.

But now he often appears on the stage, speaking in a tone as gorgeous as an opera singer and as pious as a choir's, to tell the men and women in the tent about his ups and downs in the first half of his life. Through his highly infectious speeches, the naive young ladies watching the performance burst into tears, and they keep wiping their tears with handkerchiefs, leaving a lot of mud on their faces.

This method brought a lot of income to the Mud Ball Circus.

It also causes those who should have become lovers or married to divorce each other hastily.

Who would kiss a face covered in mud?

Mason Lyle.

Randolph's evaluation of this man is: jewel rack, stallion.

A lucky guy from a humble background who loves to show off.

"Just like Taylor." He did not shy away from Bronte and said to Roland: "The Taylor family was like this for generations, but the difference between us is that we are richer than him and have more dignity than him."

Taylor would not be like this man, asking for tips from guests in public like an unwelcome beggar or vagrant from a foreign land, nor would he fabricate his "bloodline" and insist on saying how extraordinary his past was and that his bloodline came from a very noble family...

That's stupid.

“Money speaks, and it has the power to promote everything base and everything noble.”

"Is this the Taylor family motto?" Roland teased.

"You can say that." Randolph told Roland that the Taylor family had been doing things this way since the previous generation, or the previous generation. Perhaps the abilities of the heirs of each generation were different, but these heirs were lucky enough to have an absolutely extraordinary power:

Know what you are capable of.

For example, Randolph's father, Bellows Taylor, told his son frankly that he could protect everything his father created, but he did not have the power to create anything in this sword-ridden London.

So he handed over power to his son, Randolph Taylor, very early on.

As a father, it is very difficult to admit one's shortcomings to his son... At least in Roland's opinion, what Bellos Taylor did is not something that ordinary people can do.

“My father wanted me to have them sooner.”

Randolph didn't care about Roland's surprise because that was the way it was in the Taylor family.

"Having £100,000 at the age of 20 is a completely different life from having £100,000 at the age of 50 - he wanted me to enjoy everything I was supposed to have earlier."

Taylor's tips.

They believe that when the previous generation has too much, the next generation is left with nothing under the control of their parents...

Every day he watched hundreds of pounds flow past his feet and fall into his father's pocket like a rainstorm...

He saw boundless power, which was both within reach and out of reach.

He will gradually twist into a deformed, insatiable beast that devours his family and himself.

“The sooner you have it, the sooner you wake up.”

Randolph Taylor handed the warm copper cake in his hand to the girl beside him, and her face turned red due to the heat.

"The Taylor family's children must understand the power of money. They must first know what kind of power it possesses, and then indulge in its power and enjoy all the kneeling and respect, trembling and flattery it brings..."

"Then, you can fear it and stand in awe of it."

“Manipulate it.”

When Randolph spoke these words, his tone was slightly different from usual - in Roland's opinion, this was the real "Taylor", an heir to the Taylor family and a shrewd and ruthless currency manipulator.

His friends are awesome.

"I saw in the newspaper that there are constant storms in the ocean." Roland stroked the jewel hairpin in his hand and suddenly said, "The Taylor family's ship must have a lot of troubles."

"Oh, that's right. Especially the one going to India, many people fell into the sea." Randolph smiled with his eyes curved, like a wild fox that had not yet wiped the blood from the corner of its mouth after hunting.

Bronte didn't understand what the two people were talking about... no, rather, why they mentioned this.

What...what India, fell into the sea?
At this point Roland stopped talking about it and turned to Bronte: "Thank you, Miss Bronte, for promoting the Fountain of Youth."

"I was just trying to help Mr. Taylor."

Bronte shook her head. "...He lost his friend, and now he has to bear the responsibility of his friend's sincere feelings and taint them with the smell of money... I hope I can be of some help to the Taylor family - Theresa was very good to me, and so were the Taylor family."

Roland blinked: "Teresa and the Taylor family are very kind to you...but Randolph is not?" Bronte: ...

That's really rude words.

How could he question a lady like that in public?
Won't Mr. Taylor stop it?
Randolph Taylor…

Don't stop.

Even very happy.

The silent businessmen began to rub their palms together, or to observe the patterns on the buttons on their cuffs, or to move their ankles, lifting the toes of their shoes and then lowering them.

Anyway, I was too busy to join in the conversation between Roland and Bronte.

"…Randolph, Ran…Mr. Randolph Taylor, he's very good to me." Bronte really had no choice. It was like she had eaten a large piece of dark and dry bread, choking and speaking incoherently. It was difficult for her to say a short sentence: "…very good."

That was all she could say.

well.

Randolph raised the corners of his mouth slightly.

"That's what I should do."

"You have extraordinary attainments in writing. You should focus more on this. If you can make a career out of it..." Roland said casually.

But if we talk about the "text" and the details of its promotion...

Bronte's voice became different.

She spread her hands repeatedly, placed them on her legs, and when she raised her head proudly, her palm-sized face was filled with confidence: "Oh, I think the public does not allow women to become writers."

It's a subtle emotion somewhere between arrogance and pride.

Randolph tilted his ear and eavesdropped.

He, or Bronte, thought that after this, Roland would argue with her about why the "masses" did not allow women to become writers, whether the "masses" represented "men", and the division of labor between men and women in various fields...