The Secret Code of Monsters.

Chapter 362: 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.

Those are all boring tricks to control people, they are shackles, poisonous needles that make people suffer unbearable pain but still enjoy it.

'Rules keep you alive.'

Nonsense.

The rules made his life a living hell.

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 get the favor of Hever and Chloe and join forces with other families, the whole country will be in their hands.

Ok.

But he was not a fool, and he knew that throwing the golden box away was the only thing he could do - to be honest, how much could 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 buy a chance to control your own destiny?

A shotgun to kill the ritualists - the reason why it had to be a 'shotgun' was that John Shelley really believed that there was not much difference between those people and animals.

It has sharp claws and fangs, but a brain only the size of a walnut.

"You should see more of the world, Mr. Shelley. Don't be so sad all the time... Why do you always look so worried? Are rich people working harder than the salesperson in the cigar shop next to the church?"

Huge glass cover.

The sound of the piano makes you relax subconsciously.

A steak that just escaped from the chef's hands.

A vintage suitable for a leisurely afternoon drink.

An exclusive, private room.

Miss Madeleine Terry's private rooms at the Elite Art Society: just her and John Shelley.

The affection between the two young people is like the flame in the fireplace of the room, which looks warm from a distance but becomes more scorching the closer you get.

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

Little Shelley was a little dazed.

"See the world? Who allowed me to?" He pulled at his collar uncomfortably, tearing open the collar that locked his neck, or locked his otherwise happy life, and heaved a long sigh of relief: "I'm not afraid of you laughing at me, Miss Terry. I may not even live as comfortably as the salesperson next to the church."

Madeline 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 one... is with me." He blurted out the drunken words.

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

"excuse me."

He pushed the cup away while tapping the corner of his mouth with the tablecloth.

"No, this shows me another side of you," Madeline Terry put down her folding fan and held up her face with her hands like a flower, "the real side."

She obviously knew what kind of movements could cause the greatest damage to a man - especially for a figure like John Shelley, who was accustomed to the vague sight of flesh under the hazy silk.

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

He wants worship and respect.

"Only at this moment is this the real you, right?"

Madeleine Terry's eyes were filled with starlight that had not been seen in the sky above London for many years.

She just maintained this posture, but it made little Shelley feel as if he had been forged by iron and fire for many years, with awe-inspiring muscles growing on his chest, arms and both sides of his waist.

He swelled up, his shoulders became wider and wider, and his shadow almost covered the petite girl across the table. He seemed to be sober, but he was drunk in his eyes.

"I..." John Shelley opened his mouth, but he really couldn't answer the sincere girl in front of him - considering Madeline Terry's reputation, this was indeed a rare sincerity on her part.

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

Little Shelley denied this answer in his heart, but he still couldn't help falling into some kind of emotional control.

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

"I am."

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

"It may sound boring: a boring story that happens in most families like this."

"Huh? No, of course not." Madeline Terry seemed to understand what he was saying 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 started by talking about her daily life with her father.

"…Every day, there are rules for every day. There are all kinds of rules to follow every day. There are all kinds of different methods for all kinds of people…"

She frowned slightly, and a hint of sadness appeared on her sharp face.

But Shelley saw it clearly.

"I really can't stand it, but I have to. My father said that this is a responsibility we are born to bear, the price of our superiority, the price of enjoying delicious food and wine and having endless money..." Madeline Terry clutched the wine glass, and a few blue veins bulged on the back of her thin hand: "But I didn't say I wanted it!"

John Shelley sighed and high-fived!

"You're absolutely right!" He shouted in response, his mind controlled by alcohol, and he became excited: "You're absolutely right! That's not what we want!"

They smiled at each other, clinked their glasses and drank.

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

They seemed closer.

"… Me, I am not as good as you. You are at least a ritualist, someone with 'divine power'. But me? A man, a man who should stand up, but I have no… what do you call that?"

Madeline added: “Qualifications.”

"Yes, it's the qualifications. I don't have it, isn't that ridiculous?"

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

"You should laugh at me."

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

Golden rose.

Hearing this, Shelley perked up and laughed louder: "That man is very interesting. I heard that he is a man who is favored because of his pretty face - it is really a disgrace to men. In my opinion, he not only has no dignity, but also no morals."

"This trick doesn't always work."

He told Madeline interesting stories about the circle, about the Golden Rose, and the comments made by the 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've never seen the 'pretty face' that was rumored, and I don't even know his name."

"As if, Collins?" John Shelley shook his head: "Who cares."

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

She picked up the wine glass and spoke in an inviting tone, but it turned out to be a question.

"So."

she says.

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

(End of this chapter)