Chapter 602 Ch601 ‘The Truth’

Chapter 602 Ch.601 ‘The Truth’

It is difficult for a girl who has just entered the mystery and lives in the ‘countryside’ to understand what has happened in the Tribunal recently - but the Green Son is obviously an understanding person.

He is well aware of the recent changes in the London Tribunal and what kind of power the woman sitting on the front of the Holy Flame has.

The most important thing is.

That crazy woman does not follow the rules.

It is not that there are no Eighth Rings in the "Great Whirlpool", but by the time the Eighth Ring of the Great Whirlpool stands up to speak for him or his apprentice, I am afraid that the flesh and blood of the two of them will have turned into ashes and flowed down the river.

The Green Son is not afraid of offending the Tribunal or the Holy Cross.

He is afraid of offending a madman who is well-known far and wide.

Therefore, after getting the promise of Roland Collins, the newly appointed Fourth Ring left in an extremely ‘hurry’ - he did take some money and was indeed optimistic about the future of his apprentice, but this does not mean that he must conflict with the executive officer of the Tribunal...

Or that madman’s people.

This sounds a bit too timid and immoral...

But it's better than getting yourself into trouble.

So, when the Green Son left, there was a touch of speechless embarrassment in the solemn silence...

At least Randolph was about to burst.

"I told you, this has nothing to do with you..." The businessman rubbed his stiff face and laughed heartily through the gap blocked by his palm: "...This is about Taylor and Cavendish, Roland."

Roland shrugged: "I'm just introducing myself...and my lamb."

"Lamb? You call a cat a 'lamb'?"

Roland thought without hesitation: "Wendy?"

The most famous milk brand in London is called "Wendys in the Ranch" - as for why a cat is named Wendy, Randolph can now understand Roland's way of thinking:

Wendy→milk→cow→cat with cow color.

"I'm glad you didn't give it a name like 'scarf' or 'glove'..." Randolph pressed his forehead lightly.

Hayon on the side could not stand this atmosphere.

She was afraid of her mentor's behavior, which must represent something beyond her control.

At the same time, she was also annoyed by Randolph and Roland's teasing, which made her feel ignored - she was always the center of the topic, no matter at any party in Porti.

So...

She began to twist her waist and hips, twisting as if she had swallowed another fishbone with another throat.

Sweat beads were visible on her forehead, and the standard smile that could still be maintained even after sniffing the sour sweat in the servants' hair could no longer withstand the impact of "unknown" and "mystery", and the beautiful face that should have appeared in front of the mirror began to soften and melt.

Sweat is her sulfuric acid.

"... I think the 20,000 pounds is not a "family dispute", it is a formal loan, we will write a contract, Mr. Taylor, Mr. Collins. I represent the Cavendish family, not Claudia or Hayon."

Hayon didn't know where to restart the topic, but the previous "family dispute" gave her a very bad premonition.

"I think this is indeed a family dispute, Miss Hayon." Randolph asked the girl across the table in a low voice after seeing the people leave, and slowly lit his cigar in front of her stiff chin.

Then, he took a deep puff.

"…You see, although my father is not smart, he has a son who has seen the world. Miss Hayon, can you explain to me why there are clocks made of human bones everywhere in this villa, and the patterns on every door - where do they come from?"

Hayon pursed her lips.

When Randolph asked this, she knew that some things could not be hidden.

However.

It doesn't matter.

That's what Taylor owed Cavendish.

"It seems that your father didn't have time to tell you about this, Mr. Taylor."

When the inevitable failure came, all the previous fears fell to the ground like a huge stone.

Claudia Hayon Cavendish knew that the answer to all this was not her fault, but the ignorance of the previous generation, the disaster caused by her aunt: Jocelyn Cavendish - she did not need to apologize to Taylor for her motives, but they should be respected as they should be.

"Let me tell you, Mr. Taylor."

Hayon looked at him, his eyes became elusive - sometimes playful, sometimes pitying, as if he was caught in an inescapable vortex, and people who approached would be splashed with blood.

"Your mother, Jocelyn Cavendish, is a ritualist."

She said calmly.

"She used her barely 'good' talent to interpret an ancient ritual in the family's private library - and this ritual was the culprit of everything: if it weren't for her, I'm afraid that Cavendish today..."

The voice left no trace, but sprinkled grains of salt crystals dissolved in saliva in Randolph's ears.

This made him hear the whistling of the sea breeze, the shadows of those who wore brown skirts day and night, holding oil lamps, floating in the darkness - his mother who was not familiar with spoons and hair trimmers, the "stranger" who had been "mute" since childhood and hardly spoke to him...

Jocelyn Cavendish.

"Don't you wonder why any business of Bellows Taylor can be successful, as if your surname is on a ship carrying God's grace, which will never sink, and wherever it goes, the storm will stop and the tide will be tolerant..."

Randolph tapped his knee with his sharply articulated index finger: "That's because my father is smart enough."

"Because your father is pretending to be stupid!" Hayan pointed out unceremoniously: "My aunt, your mother used a despicable ritual to transfer the "luck" of the Cavendish family - my grandfather, My father, and I - the fate of the entire family has been transferred to "Taylor", no wonder you will always have smooth sailing..."

Randolph glanced at Roland, then Barton.

The two ritualists both had expressions of "I don't know."

indeed.

It is not unimaginable to transfer "fate", otherwise there would be no ritualists who embark on "fate" - but...

There is something unexplainable about this.

"The blood of Cavendish flows in my mother's body, Miss Hayan. Could you please tell me why she wanted to 'murder' the 'destiny' of her own bloodline and feed back a family that has nothing to do with her—— Don't tell me, it's 'love', miss. You and I both know that this thing doesn't make people abandon the family."

At least not Taylor and Cavendish.

As for what’s written in those novels…

Art, understandable.

After the writers shed tears and finished writing about crazy men and women, they still had to go to Flower Street to pick out the two most beautiful ones and buy a whole board of candles.

"Of course it's because of your father, Mr. Bellows Taylor."

Hayan said sarcastically.

"Does it require some clever means or rich experience for a man to use sweet words to deceive a woman? This is a natural ability."

Randolph nodded and turned to Roland: "Is she right?"

Roland: "Look what I'm doing."

Hayan:…

These two people…

He didn't take her words seriously at all.