As a villain, I really can't become stronger anymore

Chapter 387 The Devil’s Whisper

Ashborn kept roaring in his heart, and he wished he could tear Ilze, the villain's success, into pieces.

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

During the recent period, because of what happened to him, he was already the target of public criticism and brought huge trouble to the Brandt family. The plan he had planned for twenty years fell through. Although Ilze was asked to make up for it temporarily, No one can guarantee how effective it will be.

After all, Ilze is almost forty years old and has already exceeded the limit of the Holy Son. I am afraid that those opponents will not easily agree to Ilse taking that position. If they want to win the consent of those people, the Brandt family I'm afraid he's going to bleed heavily.

If he takes action at this time and kills Ilze, even his parents will not let him off easily.

When he thought of his father and mother's angry appearance, Ashbourne's body shivered violently, and goosebumps instantly appeared on his body.

He really didn't want to see Ilze's ugly face, so he simply left the mansion and walked outside the church. Marcelino and Mireya naturally knew Ahiborn's current mood, but they did not impose too many restrictions on Ahiborn.

Blackwater Tower.

The largest restaurant in the city of King Spangjiao.

As night falls, the place is already bustling with people, and you can smell the strong aroma of wine even from a far distance away.

Ashborn was sitting alone in the corner, pouring bottles of high-strength liquor into his stomach like he was dying. He wanted to use this spicy thing to paralyze his own spirit.

Drunk, just be drunk.

As long as you are 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 wine bottles on the table, and after more than ten kilograms of high-quality liquor, Axiborne is only slightly drunk at best. Being tipsy is still far from being drunk.

He could clearly feel that people around him were constantly pointing at him, and the voices were heard one after another. The voices were full of ridicule, contempt and teasing. His fingers subconsciously grabbed the wine bottle, wishing to directly smash those people's heads. All smashed.

But in the end, Ashbourne reluctantly let go of his fingers and continued to drink as hard as he could.

I don't know how much time passed, but I always felt that the bottles of wine that were served later were more powerful. Axiburn finally felt a little drunk. His whole body was filled with uncontrollable heat, and his mind was even more so. Buzzing.

Deep in his heart, there was a strong urge to vent crazily.

It has nothing to do with women, it is a hearty desire to destroy and destroy.

Although it's a bit weird, I have to say that this feeling is quite good and he doesn't hate it.

At this moment, a figure suddenly appeared in front of Ashbourne. He raised a pair of hazy eyes. It was a young man who seemed to be slightly older than himself. He was quite handsome, but his body and bones were a little bit... Slender, with a hint of scholarly temperament, a head of light brown curly hair, and even a pair of glasses hanging on the bridge of his nose.

"Sir, there's no place nearby, can you share a table?" the young man asked with a smile, every move he made was quite gentlemanly.

Ashborn was a little suspicious. He pointed to his nose drunkenly: "You don't know who I am? Are you still willing to sit at the same table with me?"

"Of course I do. Who in the entire Spang Theocracy doesn't know the name of the Holy Son of Ashbern?" The young man nodded and smiled: "My lord, Simons, this is polite."

"Simmons?" Ashbourne pondered the name, and then smiled somewhat self-deprecatingly: "Holy Son?"

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

Simmons was a little surprised: "How do you say this? Is it because of the recent rumors?" "You said those are rumors?" Ashbourne was really surprised.

Simmons nodded matter-of-factly: "Isn't it? Who doesn't know that Lord Ashbourne is as gentle as jade, a handsome gentleman, and has a gentlemanly demeanor. Those messy rumors circulating among the people now, about you peeking at your sister-in-law taking a bath, hooking up with the Theocracy It is absolutely shameful and slanderous for a princess to molest a princess and go to a brothel without paying her."

Ashbourne blushed.

I don’t know if it’s because of the influence of alcohol or the shame deep inside.

He really wanted to tell the young man in front of him that, in fact, it was not considered a slander. He had actually peeped at Ilze's wife taking a bath, had really flirted with the princess of the Spang Theocracy, and had really molested the princess of the Spang Theocracy. As for Going to a brothel... Oh, just kidding, it was the girls who always gave him money. When did he give money to those girls?
Seeing Simmons' expression of indignation because he had been slandered, he felt a little sorry for his trust.

However, in such an environment, there were actually people who were willing to stand on his side and say a few good words for him. Ashborn was really touched in his heart.

Perhaps the alcohol had irritated his eyes. He even felt that his eye sockets were burning and the corners of his eyes were even a little moist.

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

"Isabel is a saint and your fiancée. She is just a commoner. How can her status be compared with yours? As long as you can save your life, not to mention just losing your virginity, even if you lose your life, what can you do? Well, isn’t that her obligation?”

A close friend!
After hearing what Simmons said, Ashbourne couldn't hold back at all.

Under the stimulation of alcohol, his spirit was particularly sensitive. What Simmons said reached the deepest part of his heart. Everyone was pursuing his fault, but no one thought about what Isabel was. His identity is just that of a lowly civilian... Does the life of a civilian matter?

"Brother, you still understand me. It's a pity that there are so few sensible people like you in the Spang Theocracy. Otherwise, how could I have fallen into this situation?"

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

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

"My brother, Ilze..."

"Oh, is it just that fat pig? God, did Pope Marcelino have a brain cramp? How could he put that kind of thing in the position of the Holy Son? Is he worthy?"

"I can understand Pope Marcelino's decision. Whether it's you or Ilse, it doesn't make any difference who takes that position. After all, the most important thing to him is to continue the legacy of the Brandt family. Bloodline and power.”

"But, Master, don't you think this is really unfair to you? Do you really give up like this?"

There was a hint of ferocity in Ashbourne's eyes, but it gradually disappeared: "What can I do if I don't give up?"

"Actually, in my opinion, you still have a chance to keep your position as the Holy Son..." Simmons's voice suddenly became deeper.

Ashbourne's eyes suddenly lit up: "How do you say that?"

Simmons suddenly smiled, and his deliberately lowered voice was like a devil's whisper, slowly echoing in Ashbourne's ears:

"You said that if you were the only direct descendant of the Brandt family, would your father have any other choice?"

　Today’s update is 10,000 words. I will continue to write some more, but you don’t have to wait any longer. Let’s write as much as we can.

　　
　
(End of this chapter)