Women only affect my ability to spread the fire

However, Russell quickly got rid of this obsession with machinery. In his previous life, Russell basically grew up playing video games and had no chance to come into contact with mechanical devices. Russell didn't think that he would suddenly become obsessed with machinery.

Russell realized something was wrong and immediately forced himself to turn his head away from the device.

There's definitely something strange about this device, something completely abnormal! This level of intoxication can't be explained by simply saying men naturally like this kind of thing!

Russell was alert. He looked at Brochard, trying to observe Brochard's performance.

Brochard was completely obsessed at this moment. Even through the sheep-head mask, one could see the fanaticism in his eyes.

Brochard was concentrating on thinking, and no matter how Russell called out to him, he remained indifferent and ignored him.

That's why Russell swung his sword.

Russell's sword was intended to test the opponent. It could be aimed at Brochard, or it could be aimed at the delicate and complicated mechanism.

Brochard summoned a spell without thinking and blocked the sword, which made Russell confirm that Brochard's skills were not simple even in a head-on battle.

Moreover, this was the first time that Brochard truly exposed some of his strength. He seemed to have completely forgotten his hard work when fighting side by side with Russell just now.

Russell's vigilance towards Brochard increased again.

Looking at Brochard who was obsessed with mechanical devices, Russell was unsure whether to launch a sneak attack.

If I swing the sword towards his neck...

No, that can't be the case. At least Mr. Brochard hasn't shown any ill intentions yet.

Although Mr. Brochard is shrouded in mystery, I also have my reservations about him. Who doesn't have some secrets? For now, I'll just be wary of him.

Russell, Russell, it is said that when you hold a sharp knife, you will naturally want to kill. You can't become a bastard who kills indiscriminately for no reason.

Russell suppressed the rage in his heart and forced himself to calm down. In order to divert his attention, he turned his gaze back to the painting in the room.

The quiet girl in the painting maintains a perpetually calm and charming smile.

The smile did calm Russell down a lot.

What a beautiful lady, I wonder who she is?

Russell stared at the portrait and thought, and for a moment he did not notice that Mr. Brochard's eyes behind him were gradually becoming violent and bloodshot.

The author says:

Author's words: Thank you for the monthly tickets and coins

Thanks to Bloodthirsty Bronze Bull for the reward and coins

Thanks for the tips and coins without nickname

085 Francine

The intricate and elegant gears had just put Mr. Brochard into a sweet dream.

In the hallucination, Brochard finally left the island and returned to his long-lost hometown by boat.

He waved goodbye to the ship and walked quickly along the long pier. He walked faster and faster, and a happy smile appeared on his face.

There is an iron gate at the end of the pier, and his hometown is on the other side of the gate.

He walked to the door, adjusted his cuffs in front of the smooth iron door that could serve as a mirror, and tidied his hair which was not so smooth and ironed.

Then he reached out and touched the cold metal. He wanted to push the door open, but the door didn't move.

He pushed hard in confusion, causing the iron door to make a rattling sound, but he still couldn't push the door open.

He was burning with rage and full of violence. He stared angrily at the iron gate that separated him from his hometown, as if trying to persuade it to give in with his eyes.

Unfortunately, this hard and cold iron door is so inappropriate and just shows an attitude of unwillingness to cooperate.

He scratched his head and suddenly realized that he seemed to be a wizard and could use spells, but when he was about to bombard the iron door with spells, his raised hand was grabbed.

Then, the scene in front of Brochard's eyes changed rapidly, and he returned to

This finally brought Brochard back to his senses from the illusion of returning to his hometown. A huge sense of loss and intense anger surged in his heart.

His eyes were red, and he tried hard to adjust his mood. He squeezed out a few words from his throat with difficulty: "Mr. Russell, we..."

Russell released Brochard's wrist and advised, "Calm down, Mr. Brochard. I believe this mechanism contains some kind of mental spell that can induce human emotions. We must find a way to remove this spell and then calmly crack the mechanism."

"How is that possible? I've never been attacked by a mental spell in all these years..." Brochar frowned and subconsciously wanted to refute, but when he realized that he had just arrived at a reception room he had never been to before, he stopped talking.

Brochard, still wearing his goat-head mask, said, "If anything is responsible for the changes in the castle's mechanisms, it's you three, Mr. Russell."

His voice was a little muffled, and it came through the sheep-head mask in a flat voice, sounding neither sad nor happy.

"Don't jump to conclusions, Mr. Brochard. Perhaps it's because we've fought mechanical puppets before," Russell said, shaking his head. "If we were simply trying to unlock the mechanism, the eccentric owner might treat us as friends sharing interests. But if a physical conflict breaks out, the defense mechanism will surely be triggered, right?"

"That's your fault, isn't it?" Brochard said angrily. "How could the defense mechanism have been triggered if you hadn't smeared fruit all over the face of the crazy castle owner's precious daughter?"

"No, you are wrong, Mr. Brochard. That ugly mechanical puppet is not Miss Francine, the daughter of the castle owner." Russell said with a smile.

Brochard stared at Russell. "How do you know?"

"Look at this beautiful painting, look at that lovely mechanical garden. The owner of this castle must have quite an excellent aesthetic sense. How could he tolerate his daughter being nothing but a skeleton and a heart?"

Russell stared at the painting intently, his smile growing wider. "Am I right? The real Miss Francine?"

The quiet and beautiful lady in the painting suddenly spoke: "As you said, I am Francine. Good day, Mr. Russell."

…………

Rosalyn had reached the end of the long, spiral staircase, and in front of her was a door.

This door is not made of machinery and cold metal at all.

Its door frames are carved from white marble and inlaid with golden patterns and designs.

On either side of the door frame, there is a tall Ionic column supporting a gorgeous triangular pediment.

In the center of the door is a huge brass lion head, its eyes are inlaid with turquoise, emitting a mysterious light. In the lion's mouth, there is a ring-shaped door knocker, which is used to knock on the door.

Rosalyn took a deep breath. Instead of knocking on the door with the knocker like a lady, she used both hands to push the heavy door open.

The corridor floor is paved with black and white stone, creating an elegant chessboard color.

On both sides of the aisle are tall arched windows, through which you can see the scenery outside, including the mechanical garden, the tropical jungle, and the beach and ocean in the distance.

But at the end of the aisle, unlike what Rosalyn had expected, stood the father she had never met.

Standing with her back to Rosaline and Margaret was a lady.

She was wearing a light yellow dress, the hem of which fluttered in the wind, making her look light and elegant. The neckline and cuffs of the dress were decorated with delicate lace.

Even indoors, she still holds a white parasol in her hand.

There were several mechanical puppets standing around her, surrounding her in the center like stars surrounding the moon.

These mechanical puppets are all tall and have a simulated heart in the middle of their bodies - just like the one we encountered in the reception room before.

The lady heard footsteps, turned around, and had an ambiguous smile on her face.

She casually placed the parasol in the hands of a mechanical puppet, fixed her hair, then gently lifted the hem of her skirt and bowed slightly. "Good day, sister. Francine finally sees you in person."

Although after guessing that the owner of the castle was her father, Rosalyn was mentally prepared to have a new sister.

But after Francine said it herself, she was still in a daze.

This is my sister, then where is my dad?

Rosalyn quickened her pace, then she paused.

She covered her mouth in surprise.

Margaret, who was following closely behind Rosalyn, was also shocked.

Because Francine is not a person in the ordinary sense.

Although she was made to look lifelike, it was still obvious that she was just a puppet made of magic steel, similar to a mechanical puppet.

"What's wrong, sister?" Francine grinned, revealing her teeth that gleamed coldly. "Let me hug you, let me hug the sister that Daddy keeps talking about."

"Why won't you hold Francine, sister? Is it because Francine isn't a real human? Are you going to abandon Francine like Dad did?"

"Then let Francine give you a good hug, sister!"

Francine laughed sharply and strode towards Rosalyn.

The author says:

Author's words: Ugh, what a disaster! I had a fever and was put on saline drip for a day. Fortunately, it was just a common fever and not triple positive...

There is only one update today, please forgive me

I owe two more chapters now...

086 Sisters

Francine took only a few steps forward before stopping.

Because Margaret had drawn her sword and stood in front of Rosaline.

In the scorching afternoon sun, Margaret was like a golden lightning, splitting the darkness where the sun could not reach.

Margaret stood in the sunlight, her golden ponytail seemed to blend into the sunlight, and the sharp sword forged from magic iron in her hand pointed at Francine.

Francine did not move forward, but paused in the shadows formed by the gaps between the windows.

"Good day, ma'am." Francine grinned, a half-hearted smile plastered on her face, seemingly oblivious to the longsword in Margaret's hand. "As a distinguished guest, your etiquette seems inappropriate."

The robot idol spread out its arms like a soprano singing an aria. "Look, to welcome you and my sister, I didn't put any obstacles in the way. I even lowered the spiral staircase to welcome you. And yet, you rewarded me with a cold sword. Don't you think that's a bit rude?"

Margaret remained unmoved. Francine had not concealed her desire to attack Rosalyn just now.

Although there were some minor intrigues between Margaret and Rosaline when competing for Russell's favor, in this situation, Margaret drew her sword without hesitation to stand in front of her partner Rosaline.

The sword in Margaret's hand was still pointing straight ahead, and she looked at the mechanical doll Francine with cold eyes.

Then she said stiffly, "My father taught me that etiquette is for me to speak well to others, and the sword in my hand is for others to speak well to me."

"That's great! He must be an enviable father, different from my own."

Francine, in the shadows, still had an expression on her face that could be called a smile.

But this smile, combined with her sarcastic words and the cold metal that made up her face, seemed even more sinister.

Margaret ignored Francine's attempt to change the subject and continued bluntly, "Unfortunately, before you give up attacking Rosalyn, Margaret, the vulgar daughter of the Walhausen family, has never understood any etiquette. She only speaks with her sword."

"Hahahahahaha! How enviable! Sister!"

After hearing this, Francine stared at Rosalyn with her inorganic eyes and laughed.

"Dad misses you so much, he's gone crazy, that he even meticulously carved a mechanical doll to express his longing!"

"He gave me a name, but he always treated me as a substitute for you! And he abandoned me without hesitation!"

"Ever since I was conscious, I've always heard 'Francine, you have a sister named Rosalyn'; 'Francine, your sister Rosalyn...' Even though my father was always looking at me, he was never really looking at me!"

"Am I not his daughter? Am I not worthy of his love? Hahahahahaha!"

Francine's laughter became more and more crazy, and all parts of her body trembled with the laughter.

"Now, sister, you are hiding behind friends who are willing to protect you. That's great, that's great!"

"She's willing to protect you, but she points her sword at me. All the love is yours, and all the hate is mine! Hahahahaha! Hahahahaha!"

Francine's smile was already ferocious. She waved her hand, and a painting on the wall exploded, shattering the canvas into pieces.

"Kill you! Kill you! Kill you kill you kill you kill you kill you kill you kill you kill you kill you kill you kill you kill you kill you kill you kill you kill you kill you kill you kill you kill you kill you kill you kill you asshole daddy!"

Rosalyn bent down and picked up the fragment of the painting, which showed half of the face of a middle-aged man.

You can vaguely see that the middle-aged man has black hair and a broad forehead, but unfortunately there are no other facial features on this small half of his face.

Rosalyn looked at the wall with regret. The solid wall remained motionless amid the explosion, but the painting could never be put back together again.

Rosalyn even regretted that she didn't take a closer look at the wall or the person in the painting when she walked into the room.

"Is that Dad in the picture?"

Rosalyn asked calmly facing her hysterical "sister".

Rosalyn felt that her voice sounded calmer than she had expected.

"Who else could it be? Hahahaha! You haven't seen him? Hahahahahaha! You haven't seen him! You're just a poor wretch abandoned by him, sister, hahahahahaha!"