The Secret Code of Monsters.

Chapter 1067 Ch.1066 Shadows in the Sunlight
Once the ritualists successfully reach the tenth ring, it's hard to say what power could kill them, let alone the "Horse," a path teeming with life.

I mean, whether it's fists, swords, guns, curses, seals, or contamination that attack flesh or pierce the soul.

Flames couldn't kill them, floods couldn't drown them. Landslides couldn't destroy their bodies, lightning couldn't shatter their nearly frozen souls—even after their robes were torn off and they were thrown onto the stage of the theater's largest hall, where all the audience members laughed, pointing at the strange object below their navels…

I mean, hypothetically.

That probably wouldn't kill them either.

Actually.

Mr. Sean Westwick not only reached the Ten Rings and was bestowed the titles of Immortal and Bear Noble, but also ventured into the Sleeping World to serve at the side of the goddess Eve—a Divine Servant. Every ritualist who truly enters the mystical world knows what a 'Divine Servant' means.

They are a group of 'creatures' who have mastered many mysteries and are closest to the 'mystery' and 'rules' themselves.

—This is knowledge written in books or passed down orally, so it should be correct, right?

After all, no one has ever truly seen an immortal.

Theodore knew that Florian Westwick's desire to 'call' his ancestors was not as 'simple' as he claimed—as the most talented ritualist of Westwick's generation and the leader of the Beast Fang faction in the "Vortex," the still-young Florian had naturally come into contact with many secret histories that he shouldn't have at his age.

He should have spent more time in the mortal world; at least Theodore would have taken Delilah's legend as a fabrication.

But Florian was deeply fascinated by it.

As he read the 'history' left by his family, he pondered the true power and glorious achievements of his ancestors, while also firmly imprinting each and every word left by his ancestors into his mind: it is said that it was left by Sean Westwick himself.

Absolutely true.

Theodore was skeptical: he had not read the Florian family's journal with the last half page torn out, despite Florian's invitation to do so.

'Our ancestors expect us to call upon his name in times of calamity… Uncle. When the immortals descend—'

'When the immortals descend, the balance on the other side of the world is shattered. Florian, do you want the "Great Vortex" to become the enemy of all sects?'

'By then, who would dare? The blood in my veins is calling me! It's calling me! You don't have the Westevik name, you don't understand how I feel—'

'I don't care about your feelings, Florian. Your father saved my life when he was alive, and I promised him the same—at least while I'm alive, I'll save yours.'

The two had many arguments about this.

Florian Westwick was adamant about this, and the ritualists of the Beast Fang lineage were very supportive of their leader.

That was an immortal being, a true demigod who had come into close contact with the gods and mastered countless mysteries—even if he only came to the mortal world for half a day, a light breath from him would silence those tree mothers, and then, with a single glare, the Holy Cross would tremble and bow his head…

Leave them some secrets that will bring them closer to 'eternity'...

Immortals, servants of the gods.

Ten rings.

The true 'superhuman' who has never truly revealed his whereabouts.

Who wouldn't yearn for that?
If this opportunity is missed, or Florian dies in an attack—how long will Beast Fang have to wait before the Westwick family produces a genius ritualist like Florian?
Almost everyone supported his decision.

Apart from Theodore Gabriel Thackeray.

“I think we need to talk alone, Uncle.”

"Isn't it 'alone' now?"

Florian glanced at the crowd in the distance, then pursed his lips and remained silent.

Theodore sighed, turned and asked the gentlemen and Gilles for a bedroom upstairs, then helped Florian up the stairs. He paused slightly as they passed the two pots of daffodils broken in the mud.

“Uncle?” “…” Theodore glanced at Gilles Fonseca, who was surrounded by girls, and shook his head. “It’s nothing.”

He went upstairs with Florian and saw a room that was regularly cleaned.

"Don't put me in a dirty place."

Florian wanted to sit down, unwilling to touch the places where life had flowed. Theodore laughed and joked that it went against the doctrine of the Great Whirlpool.

then.

The atmosphere, which had just begun to ease, plummeted to an icy depths with Florian's next words.

"If you want to repent for my father's death, you shouldn't just be a puppet listening to regrets—"

Theodore was unusually angry.

“You should respect your father, even if he was not a ritualist and never stepped into our world.”

“I don’t respect him, not because he’s mortal.” Florian frowned, his long, narrow eyes gazing silently through his cascading, pale eyes at the man kneeling before him—dazzling blond hair, a radiant face, a broad chest, powerful arms…

The more he looked, the more intensely that indescribable, nauseating feeling churned in his stomach.

He admitted he had been patient for a long time, but now, the person in front of him was spouting platitudes about 'protection'—

“I don’t respect him because he violated the rules set by the gods…the original laws governing the world. ‘Uncle,’ do you really want me to call you that?”

Florian drew up a long stream of water from the waterfall and circled it around his index finger a few times. For the first time, a mocking look appeared in the earth-toned patterns that never belittled his fellow travelers.

He moved as lightly as a cat, but spoke with the force of thunder.

"Because he loves you, and because you love him too, right?"

Click.

The walnut wood duckbill armrest was crushed by someone's subconscious grip.

Theodore Gabriel Thackeray.

This perpetually radiant, sun-dappled golden gentleman finally sombered his face, an expression unsuitable for such a look: he stared intently at Florian, utterly bewildered as to when that treasure trove he had so thoroughly eroded had lost a moldy secret…

Florian Westwick is a smart man.

He can tolerate many things.

On the matter of 'calling upon the ancestors,' there was no room for argument—he wouldn't have said these things if this person hadn't repeatedly stopped him…

He'll probably have to say it sooner or later.

That was a disgrace to the Westwick family, a disgrace he would forge into a sword and pierce the hearts of those who knew the truth sooner or later.

"How do you think my father died, Mr. Thackeray?"

think.

Theodore clenched his fist.

He fell silent.

He knew in his heart what was going on—the secret he was hiding, a shameful thing that Florian shouldn't know.

“He died because of you, Mr. Thackeray. Because you didn’t keep your promise to him… I don’t understand why you’ve become so unusually concerned about ‘promises’ now—my father is dead, Mr. Thackeray, I repeat, he’s dead. If you’re trying to say ‘I’ve completely changed since he died’… that’s meaningless. Honestly, the best way is… to go to another world and find him.”

(End of this chapter)