Chapter 387 The Devil's Whisper

Ashborn was roaring in his heart, he wished he could tear Ilze, the villain, into pieces.

But he knew that he couldn't do that, and he absolutely couldn't do it. His father and mother would never watch him kill his eldest brother.

Recently, because of what happened to him, he has become the target of public criticism and has brought huge trouble to the Brandt family. Twenty years of planning have failed. Although Ilze has been asked to take over temporarily, no one can guarantee how effective it will be.

After all, Ilze is almost forty years old, which has long exceeded the limit of the Son of God. Those opponents will not agree to Ilze taking that position so easily. If the Brandt family wants to win their consent, they will probably have to bleed heavily.

If I take action at this time and kill Ilze, even my parents will not let me go easily.

When he thought of his angry father and mother, Ashburne shuddered and goose bumps instantly appeared on his body.

He really didn't want to see Ilze's ugly face again, so he simply turned a blind eye and left the mansion and walked towards the outside of the church. Marcelino and Mireya naturally knew what Ashburn was feeling now, but they didn't restrict him too much.

Blackwater Tower.

The largest restaurant in the King's City of Spang.

As night fell, the place was already bustling with people. Even from a distance, one could smell the rich aroma of wine.

Ashburn sat alone in the corner, drinking bottle after bottle of strong liquor as if his life depended on it. He wanted to use this spicy stuff to numb his mind.

Just be drunk, it’s okay to be drunk.

As long as you get drunk, all your worries will disappear.

However, it is not easy for a legendary master to get drunk. There are already more than a dozen empty bottles on the table. After drinking more than ten kilograms of strong liquor, Ashburn is only slightly tipsy at best, and is far from being drunk.

He could clearly feel that people were pointing at him and talking all around him. There were continuous rustling sounds, which were full of mockery, contempt and ridicule. His fingers subconsciously grabbed the wine bottle, wishing he could smash those people's heads.

But in the end, Ashburn reluctantly loosened his fingers and continued to drink desperately.

I don't know how much time has passed, but I always feel that the bottles of wine that were brought up later were stronger. Ashburn finally felt a little drunk. He felt an uncontrollable heat all over his body, and his head was buzzing.

Deep inside his heart, he had a strong urge to vent wildly.

It has nothing to do with women. It is a desire to destroy and ruin everything.

Although it was a bit weird, he had to admit that it felt pretty good and he didn't hate it.

At this moment, a figure suddenly appeared in front of Ashburn. He raised his hazy eyes. It was a young man who looked a little older than himself. He was quite handsome, but a little frail. He had a bit of scholarly temperament, light brown curly hair, and even a pair of glasses on his nose.

"Sir, there are no seats nearby. Can we share a table?" the young man asked with a smile, his every move being quite gentlemanly.

Ashburn was a little suspicious. He pointed at his nose drunkenly and said, "You don't know who I am? And you're willing to sit at the same table with me?"

"Of course I know. Who in the entire Spang Theocracy doesn't know the name of Saint Ashibern?" The young man nodded and smiled: "I'm Simmons. I'm honored."

"Simmons?" Ashburn pondered the name, then laughed at himself: "Holy Son?"

"Haha, tomorrow, I will no longer be the Holy Son."

Simmons was a little surprised: "What do you mean? Is it because of the recent rumors?"

"You said that was a rumor?" Ashburn was really surprised.

Simmons nodded as a matter of course: "Isn't it? Everyone knows that Lord Ashburn is as gentle as jade, a gentleman with gentlemanly demeanor. The messy rumors circulating among the people now, such as you peeped at your sister-in-law taking a bath, hooked up with the princess of the church, molested the princess, and went to the brothel without paying, are absolutely shameful slander."

Ashburn blushed.

I don’t know if it was because of the influence of alcohol or the shame deep in my heart.

He really wanted to tell the young man in front of him that, in fact, it was not slander. He really had peeped at Ilze's wife taking a bath, had really hooked up with the princess of the Sibang Theocracy, and had really flirted with the princess of the Sibang Theocracy. As for going to brothels... oh, just kidding, it was always those girls who gave him money. When did he ever give money to those girls? Seeing Simmons's indignant expression because he was slandered, he felt that he was a little sorry for his trust.

However, in an environment where everyone was criticizing him, there were actually people willing to stand on his side and say a few good words for him. Ashburn was really touched.

Perhaps the alcohol irritated his eyes, he even felt a burning sensation in his eye sockets, and the corners of his eyes were even a little moist.

"Besides, even if the rumors are true, so what?"

"Isabel is a saint, your fiancée. She is just a commoner. How can her status be compared with yours? As long as she can save your life, let alone losing your virginity, even if she loses her life, what does it matter? Isn't that her duty?"

A bosom friend! After hearing what Simmons said, Ashburn couldn't hold back any longer.

There is no mistake in the poem, post, content, and read the book on 6, 9, and bar!

Under the stimulation of alcohol, his mind was particularly sensitive. Simmons' words touched the deepest part of his heart. Everyone was focusing on his faults, but no one thought about Isabel's identity. She was just a lowly civilian... Are civilians' lives really lives?

"Brother, you really understand me. Unfortunately, there are too few people like you in the Sibang Theocracy. Otherwise, how could this Holy Son fall into this situation?"

"Even the position of the Holy Son will be lost tomorrow."

Simmons was indignant: "Sir, I dare to ask, who will take over your position as the Holy Son?"

"My brother, Ilse..."

"Oh, that fat pig? Oh my God, has Pope Marcelino lost his mind? How could he put that kind of bastard in the place of the Son of God? Is he worthy?"

"I can understand Pope Marcelino's decision. It doesn't matter who sits in that position, whether it's you or Ilze. After all, the most important thing to him is to continue the bloodline and power of the Brandt family."

"But, sir, don't you think this is too unfair to you? Are you really going to give up just like that?"

There was a hint of ferocity in Ashburn's eyes, but it soon faded away: "What else can I do if I don't give up?"

"In fact, in my opinion, you still have a chance to keep the position of the Son of God..." Simmons' voice suddenly became low.

Ashburn's eyes suddenly lit up: "What do you mean?"

Simmons smiled suddenly, and his deliberately low voice, like the whisper of a devil, slowly echoed in Ashburn's ears:

"If you were the only one left in the Brant family, would your father have any other choice?"

I updated 10,000 words today. I will continue to write, but you don’t have to wait. I will write as much as I can.

(End of this chapter)