A Scroll of Infinite Glory

Chapter 192 Visiting

Violet State Governor Brad is not home tonight.

He received an invitation to visit his close friend Irving at his home.

This was an invitation that could not be avoided. Everyone knew that the most important factor in Brad's election as governor was the financial support provided by Mr. Irving.

In the United States of Boston, a relationship like that of Brad and Irving is the closest of partnerships, surpassing even that of ordinary friends, husbands and wives, or fathers and sons.

Brad can refuse when his father calls him home, ignore his wife's calls, and brush off important holidays for his daughter.

But Mr. Owen's formal request was a matter of course, and I had to attend the meeting.

Irving's home is not on Goldfinch Island, but on a small, man-made island a little south of Goldfinch Island. As soon as you set foot on this island, you will see a huge sculpture.

The tallest piece of pure white rock, thirteen meters high, is carved into two heads. The one on the left has an old face, wears a monocle, and has a wide-brimmed hat with a tear on it.

This is Diedrich Nichollbauer, a prominent figure of the last century, the father of violets, and a renowned writer.

When Diedrich was young, Violet was just becoming famous for its precious metals and gemstone mines, attracting many workers from across the United States to come here. Of course, the most active and conspicuous among them were the capitalist families.

Mr. Diedrich lived in the Violet for twenty years, experiencing everything there. With his sharp writing, he satirized the various absurdities of social reality, becoming a monument in the history of Boston literature.

Unfortunately, this man, who is now remembered every year, lived a miserable old age in his own time, leaving behind almost no inheritance or descendants.

The current Diedrich Group is not actually related to this celebrity by blood.

It is rumored that the name was chosen to commemorate Mr. Didridge, the group's leader, who had a friendship with him in his youth and deeply admired him.

The white sculpture, the one on the right with a smiling, full-cheeked, broad-foreheaded middle-aged man's head, was originally sculpted based on Owen at the age of fifty.

But Brad knew more.

This name, this sculpture, is simply Irving's mockery of the father of the violet.

He did have an exchange with that writer when he was young, but it was by no means a pleasant memory, so much so that he had to be subjected to such retaliation.

The name of that literary giant who died more than sixty years ago will forever be intertwined with the stance he most despised during his lifetime, becoming a label of capital, or even a glory of capital. As long as this group exists, everything Diderich did during his lifetime will inevitably be misinterpreted and ignored by later generations.

"If Mr. Diedrich could see this reputation he left behind in hell, he would surely weep bitterly."

Brad glanced at the sculpture, then stepped onto the tree-lined path to its right and, with the help of security personnel, entered Irving's estate.

The two bodyguards followed Brad silently, but they hadn't gone far when their attention was drawn to a fleeting dark figure in the woods.

Brad turned around and asked, "What's wrong?"

The two bodyguards didn't elaborate: "It's just a rabbit, nothing special."

In a corner of the jungle, a rabbit with bulging muscles, its hind legs constantly oozing blood, is fleeing for its life.

It is very fast. It can shoot out like an arrow as soon as it pushes off the tree trunk with one hind leg, without needing to land at all.

If calculated in a straight line, the distance it traveled was enough to traverse the entire island, but its escape could not have been a straight line.

Something terrible is chasing it.

It kept changing direction, and when it leaped off the tree trunk once more, finally, the ripples of the sea were reflected in its eyes, and hot tears welled up in its eyes.

But the next moment, blackness filled its field of vision, isolating it from the sea.

Brad arrived in front of several small buildings.

The buildings are uneven, with sharp roofs, and there's a huge clock hanging on one side of the wall for some unknown purpose, its hands never moving.

It's a decorating style that was popular in Europe for a while, originally the kind of style that artists who pursued gloom and darkness would like, but it's been completely decorated and piled up with warm colors.

It reveals a mocking, false warmth.

Irving sat in the hallway waiting for him.

"Brad, come quick, come quick!"

The sprightly old man, wearing a white shirt under a brown vest, was holding a pipe and waving with a smile. "My tea has gone cold three times while waiting for you."

"It was very rude of me to not have arranged the time properly." Brad sat down opposite the old man, looked around, and said, "Mr. Owen, you called me over so late at night without inviting anyone else. Is there anything I can do for you?"

Irving shook his head and said, "No, it's just that I was in the mood today and wanted to find someone to watch a fighting match with, so I checked the phone book and your name came up."

Brad felt a little relieved and smiled, "So that's how it is. Is it number three playing again tonight? It hasn't had any rivals in a long time, has it?"

"Yes, its opponent today is also a pretty good little thing. Who will be the winner is still not a certainty."

Irving clapped his hands and said, "Let number three come up."

Someone whistled nearby, and soon a huge figure flew out of the woods.

The creature was nearly three meters tall, yet it landed silently. The length of its arms was almost equal to its entire height, and its swollen fists at the ends of its arms were much larger than its head.

When it arrived in the square, in a place illuminated by lights, you could see that its soft fur reflected the light, revealing it to be a silverback gorilla with a large number, "3," branded on its chest.

At that moment, the silverback gorilla was holding a rabbit in its hand.

The rabbit, with its short, stiff fur and clearly defined muscles, was screaming in fear and struggling.

When its eyes turned, they revealed a human-like plea, as if it possessed intelligence beyond that of animals.

But the next moment, it was swallowed whole by the silverback gorilla.

A smug gleam appeared in the silverback gorilla's eyes as it thumped its chest and looked at Owen.

Irving nodded slightly, and the silverback gorilla, as if rewarded, let out another low growl.

At this moment, a servant led a large, yellow-haired dog onto the square, holding a thick chain.

This is another participant in today's fight.

Brad watched all this with a smile and anticipation, but he felt a little bored. He knew that these animals were created by combining the genes of fighters with the embryos of wild beasts. They possessed intelligence beyond that of ordinary wild beasts and also inherited the legacy of fighters.

When he first saw this creature, he was not just surprised, he was terrified. But no matter how novel something is, after a while, the fear will turn into numbness, and you might even feel a little disgust.

In his opinion, wouldn't it be more interesting to spend this free time attending a party to tame beauties?

Recently, a new trend has emerged in their circle: disguising one's identity as a penniless young man to seduce attractive young women, train them, and then share them with others.

Brad was somewhat envious, but unfortunately he didn't have that much time and could only watch a tedious battle from here.

Only Irving remained unfazed, looking at the two creatures about to engage in a bloody battle with the same kind of affection one would show a pet.

"Oh, right, besides this fight, something else is going to happen tonight."

(End of this chapter)