Author: 冬瓜茶仙人 / Winter Melon Tea Immortal

Translator: Kinky || https://kinkytranslations.com/

Chapter 183

“Don’t touch,” Charlie said softly, reaching out to steady the unsteady Prima.

Prima withdrew her hand that was about to touch the wall.

This was the second time she had come down this stone staircase leading underground. Just like she remembered, it was cold and damp. Perhaps because it was built underground, the junction of the steps and the walls was covered with fuzzy moss, which looked even greener under the light from the fluorite.

There were more small stones or some unknown debris on the floor now, and Prima almost tripped over them.

Given that someone had recently rushed out of this passage engulfed in flames, she decided not to investigate what exactly was on the ground.

Charlie sensed her tension and moved a little faster to position himself in front of her, making Prima follow behind him.

He moved slowly, not only to match the pace of the exhausted Prima but also to carefully observe the various doors they passed.

As he had previously speculated, most of the doors near the exit were early experimental models. The doors, too small for an adult to pass through, used animal power as their medium. Some had only a doorframe or lacked handles and couldn’t be opened, indicating they were likely failures. The corresponding clock hands were all stationary.

Charlie hadn’t yet figured out the meaning of these clocks. The simplest understanding might be that they represented the length of time that could be reversed—for instance, the simple timer next to the pinewood door seemed to be a product from about five hundred years ago. If Khalif opened the door and walked inside, perhaps time would rewind five hundred years on him.

If this hypothesis were true, it would be quite entertaining.

Charlie nudged the pinewood door beside the timer with his pipe. The handle was very tight, suggesting it hadn’t been used.

As they descended about halfway, the size and shape of the doors gradually became normal. Some were tightly shut but had light seeping through the gaps at the bottom. Some were ajar, but the interiors weren’t visible. Only vague murmurs could be heard, as if someone inside was whispering…

Both Charlie and Prima slowed their steps. It was as if the inhabitants of the rooms knew someone was passing by, and the whispers grew slightly louder, yet the content remained indistinct.

Prima: “?”

The staircase was eerily quiet. She instinctively wanted to get closer to hear better because the voice sounded hoarse, like a sick woman, parched, needing someone to fetch her water.

But she couldn’t hear clearly. Prima looked at the door gap, and the warm yellow light inside contrasted sharply with the cold fluorite in the passage.

Prima reached out, intending to push the door slightly more open, thinking she wouldn’t step inside…

Charlie, who had been standing in front of her and seemed to be listening as well, quickly turned around and covered Prima’s eyes.

Her vision suddenly darkened, startling Prima, but not because of Charlie’s sudden action. It was because when her eyes were covered, her ears seemed to awaken, and the gentle whispers vanished, replaced by men’s roaring, indistinguishable heavy breathing, and eerie low laughter, all equally disturbing.

Prima gasped in horror, but Charlie also covered her mouth, then removed his hand from her eyes.

The previously peaceful and serene atmosphere felt like an illusion. From some point, the sounds from the end of the underground passage had become clear. Standing on the stone steps, they heard a woman say, “This is no excuse for your madness—”

“You’re the mad one!” Just from the voice, one could imagine Khalif’s enraged expression.

“Feigning high morals doesn’t suit you, Khalif,” another man said, his voice pleasant but inappropriately contemplative for the situation.

The blood vessels in Khalif’s eyes burst, red like a carnivorous beast’s. “Vasilia! Do you think you can walk out of here alive?”

Vasilia’s arm hung unnaturally, bloody from the shoulder down, making it unclear whether the blood was hers or someone else’s. A girl lay at her feet, her short black hair disheveled and unmoving.

Sven stood against the wall, seemingly the only one unscathed. Xanye was pale, and the young man who had come in with her sat at Sven’s feet. His neck was bent at an unnatural angle, an impossible posture for the living.

Urch stood between Vasilia and Khalif, his face ashen but his back straight.

Vasilia, experienced in combat, had been fighting both Urch and Sven’s subordinates. Urch, already injured, might have had his heart ripped out by Vasilia in the recent fight if not for her simultaneous battle with the two.

But Vasilia’s goal wasn’t slaughter. Despite being besieged, she managed to break through strongly and disrupt Khalif’s magical ritual.

All magic rituals, except combat spells that require no chanting, demand specific environments and materials. At a minimum, they must not be interrupted. Khalif had planned to find Prima and, once fully prepared, conduct the final attempt. Unexpectedly, Louis’s interference severely injured him. Instead of regaining his youth, he now urgently needed someone to help him sustain his life.

However, misfortune never came in singles. Several disruptors appeared tonight. Khalif was furious, wondering what the guards he left in the corridor were doing—he hoped they had died fighting Sven’s men, or he would kill them himself for dereliction of duty.

The only one who entered the underground with him, Urch, could barely hold off Sven and his grotesque monsters, but adding Vasilia to the mix was too much. The ongoing ritual was disrupted, and the girl, whose hair and fingers had already begun to decompose, was forcibly pulled out from the wall adorned with a magic circle by Vasilia. Although the “door” had already taken shape, the girl, who served as the foundation of the “door,” was removed. There had never been a similar situation in previous experiments, and although Khalif was anxious, he knew better than anyone how dangerous an unstable “door” could be.

“Dad?”

Just as he was staring daggers at Vasilia, thinking of ways to dismember her and hang her remains on the doorframe as decoration, a trembling voice startled him.

“Prima!” Khalif was stunned to see his daughter, who had been missing, now standing on the stairs leading to the exit. The surge of joy he felt momentarily made him overlook the strange rabbit-headed man standing beside Prima. That man, dressed in a dark suit, was half-shrouded in shadow and silent.

Sven and Vasilia turned to look at her almost simultaneously, but their expressions were vastly different. Vasilia wore a mocking smile, while Sven looked as if he had stumbled upon a rare gem in a mine.

Prima’s appearance subtly eased the tense standoff between the three parties. Khalif, cooling down from his heated state, frantically pondered how to bypass Vasilia and Sven to get Prima to his side, dismissing the unknown dark-haired girl completely.

The others were calmer than Khalif. No one, except Khalif, ignored the rabbit-headed man standing beside Prima. Sven asked, “Who are you?”

As soon as he spoke, Prima recognized it as the same voice she and Mr. Charlie had heard on the stairs. Sven’s voice was shockingly smooth, which was incongruent with his old and wrinkled appearance, making Prima shiver.

Charlie, seemingly reminded by Sven, pulled Prima forward a few steps to ensure they were both fully visible in the light. His right hand wrapped around the back of Prima’s neck, pressing a delicate and sharp blade against her chin.

“Just a nobody,” Charlie said theatrically, glancing around exaggeratedly. “Ah, what’s everyone up to?”

Khalif glared at him coldly, “What do you want?”

Prima’s identity was no secret in the inner city. While there had been attempts to extort the Wolf Family by kidnapping their daughters, most of these were from outsiders. Khalif couldn’t deny that the Monkey might have some designs on Prima, but seeing Sven’s reaction now, Khalif temporarily assumed this rogue was just another self-styled adventurer and opportunist.

However, Prima was indeed crucial to him at this moment. Additionally, what irritated Khalif was why even such a lowlife could infiltrate his territory. Even though the mansion was attacked earlier, those immature girls were defeated by McMullen and his men. It shouldn’t have been difficult to quickly regroup and fortify the defenses unless McMullen’s men dared to abandon their posts.

“That’s not the right question, sir,” Charlie said. “I just saw this young lady wandering alone at night and kindly decided to bring her home. You’re her father, and with such an impressive mansion, surely you wouldn’t ignore a poor soul who helped your daughter, right?”

“Dad,” Prima called again, her eyes pleading.

“I can give you endless wealth,” Khalif said. “As long as you’re smart enough to know when to stop. Come here, Prima.”

“Of course, of course.” Charlie didn’t relax his grip on Prima but spoke lightly. As he moved Prima closer to Khalif (taking a wide arc away from Vasilia), his large, round rabbit eyes darted around. When he saw the small, arched door behind Khalif and the still-glowing magic circle on it, he stopped.

Glowing was a characteristic of all magic circles. Regardless of the material used to inscribe the array and formula, once magic power was infused to make it functional, every trace would glow during operation. It’s said that in the early days of ancient magic, most rituals were conducted in secret and dark spaces to avoid detection. This feature allowed mages to avoid writing the wrong symbols, even in the dark.

To Khalif, the faint glow of this magic circle might have been weak enough to mistake it for mere reflective paint. But to Charlie and Sven, the complex magic circle shone as brightly as an out-of-control miner’s lamp.

Charlie’s furry rabbit face displayed a difficult-to-read expression. He then glanced at the motionless girl at Vasilia’s feet.

“Ah, a mage,” Vasilia said. “No wonder you’re like an old mole, only daring to dig holes underground, Khalif. It’s because someone skilled in magic can see through your dirty dealings at a glance.”

She spoke arrogantly, lifting her chin to Prima. “You’re Khalif’s daughter, but his lover is hiding in the corner. I assume your mother isn’t around. Let me teach you something, little girl. Men aren’t to be trusted, especially not men like your father.”

“The magic behind you devours people. The girl beside me is proof. In this situation tonight, instead of helping you escape, he summoned you to his side. Do you really think he just wants to give you a hug?”

<<< || Table of Contents || >>>

Author: 冬瓜茶仙人 / Winter Melon Tea Immortal

Translator: Kinky || https://kinkytranslations.com/

Chapter 182

But she didn’t rashly call out Louis’s name. This once privileged and naive young lady seemed to have matured overnight. Though she couldn’t hide her excitement, her actions were much more restrained compared to before.

“What is this?!” The squad leader, only now noticing the charred corpse curled up on the carpet due to the dim light, realized it had been burned to death, the air filled with a burnt stench.

“The Monkey’s magic,” Louis said coldly. “They are currently inside—”

“With Lord Khalif?” The loyal squad leader’s expression changed, staring directly at Louis. Though he was outgoing and straightforward, he wasn’t a fool. If Khalif and the Monkeys had a deadly conflict in this mansion, why were Louis and McMullen’s team, responsible for the city’s security and Khalif’s personal safety, standing here so calmly?

“The underground is off-limits,” Nieman timely interjected. “You know the rule better than anyone. This guy ran out from there.”

This somewhat alleviated the squad leader’s doubts, as Nieman spoke the truth. Serving the Wolf Family for so many years, even Louis and the other Elders typically couldn’t access the basement or the corridor leading to it.

Recalling the grim fates of those who approached the forbidden area without permission, the squad leader hesitated. No one wanted to face Khalif’s unpredictable wrath, especially after the huge auction incident. Any displeasure could not only cost their positions but also their lives.

Prima glanced at Charlie and then said, “Do we have to chat here? Please, get that horrifying thing out. I’m going to be sick.”

Her face was pale, and her tone was unusually different, appearing genuinely on the verge of collapse. A charred corpse wasn’t something a girl like her could handle calmly. McMullen stepped forward, speaking calmly, asking them to help move the corpse out.

“Miss Prima shouldn’t be affected by such things, and Lord Khalif wouldn’t want it on the carpet,” McMullen said. “We’re following the Lord’s orders by staying here, but you shouldn’t take another step forward.”

The Wolf Family knew McMullen and Nieman as Khalif’s silent yet formidable attendants. This strong impression meant that, in Khalif’s absence, they instinctively treated McMullen’s words as Khalif’s will.

“You can guard outside the house,” Nieman added. “The Lord is busy now, but he’ll surely reward those loyal and capable when he sees Miss Prima.”

This was true. Most armed forces were battling in the inner city against the suddenly united poor, so even if McMullen wanted to take credit, they couldn’t. Staying within summoning range was their only option, and Khalif would want to know why they were more capable than other squads.

But…

“Miss Prima needs rest, and we’ll handle this suspicious guy,” the squad leader said, eyeing Charlie.

Charlie shrugged, but before he could speak, Prima protested, “No. He stays.”

The squad leader was troubled, but his men holding Charlie wouldn’t budge.

Louis, not showing his torn and blood-stained clothes, stepped forward and said coldly, “That’s beyond your authority.”

The squad leader cursed inwardly, thinking Louis was trying to take credit, but he was right. Khalif’s order was to find Prima, and handling inner city unrest was always Louis’s job. Even if they captured a suspected terrorist, Louis had the authority to demand the handover if it was related to the auction attack.

McMullen’s and Nieman’s expressions remained unchanged. Only they knew that Khalif had fallen out with Louis a few days ago. However, due to the secrecy surrounding the Holy Grail, Khalif hadn’t disclosed this matter. Moreover, with several Elders meeting unfortunate accidents, Louis’s sudden departure and disappearance weren’t widely suspected as rebellion.

Rank pressure worked, and Prima and Charlie stayed in the house, though they insisted on keeping Charlie bound. The squad took the charred corpse out.

Prima didn’t trust McMullen, glancing out the window to see the exits guarded.

Louis untied Charlie, noting the harsh treatment that left deep marks and disheveled clothes.

McMullen and the others recognized Charlie and Prima’s connection. Although Neiman was anxious, he refrained from rushing them. The first squad blocked the doors, with more unsuccessful teams to follow. Despite their strength, breaking through wasn’t wise.

Charlie looked past Louis’s shoulder but saw only a brightly lit corridor and chaotic magic elements.

Louis turned his face, saying, “You and Prima shouldn’t be here.” The Holy Grail and Khalif’s perfect experimental subject shouldn’t have come.

“But—” Prima started.

“No buts. You two are the last people who should be here tonight.” Louis’s tone was stern as he looked at Charlie. “Listen, you—”

Prima interrupted, “I’m here for a reason! Not to cause trouble.”

Louis was somewhat surprised by her words. This was the first time Prima had spoken to him in such a firm, even somewhat forceful tone. In their past interactions, this girl, officially recognized as Khalif’s most beloved, had always been shy and apprehensive, speaking gently, never losing her temper. Her most common behavior in front of Louis was worrying about whether her hair ribbon matched her dress and if her manners were appropriate, fearing she might annoy him.

Not only was her tone different, but tonight Prima also looked very unlike her usual meticulous self. Her hair was a bit messy, she wore a coat of average material and cut, her lips were dry, and she looked exhausted.

“Alright,” Louis said. “What are you here for? If Charlie hasn’t told you the important things.”

“Mr. Charlie told me a lot,” Prima said, glancing warily at the imposing McMullen. “I-We, um… have a plan.”

“What plan?”

“I’ll confront my father directly,” Prima said. “I can’t hide forever, so I’ll take the initiative.”

Louis couldn’t believe Charlie had influenced Prima so quickly. He glared at Charlie. “Do you know what you’re doing?”

He could roughly guess what Charlie wanted to do. If it weren’t necessary to hide his identity, Charlie’s magical talent would have made him as famous as an astrologer on the continent.

Khalif and the Monkey’s magical system might have been complex enough to take years of debugging to achieve its current results, but this was where the difference between a genius and an ordinary person lay—this was Charlie’s field. He might be confident enough to find a flaw in the magic in a short time, allowing Prima, the only one who could approach the magical core without suspicion, to destroy everything from the inside. But honestly, this method was too dangerous, undoubtedly dancing on the edge of a knife.

And the executor of this plan was Prima? This wasn’t his style at all.

“It was my suggestion.” Prima, small in stature, couldn’t intervene in the momentum of the two brothers, almost jumping up in anxiety. “I proposed this idea and asked Mr. Charlie to honestly tell me if I could do it.”

If this time magic were likened to an industrial machine, Prima knew she was the key component her father had carefully prepared, the one most compatible with the main body. Installing her would make the machine operate according to his intentions.

But what if the component changed? What if the part no longer fit perfectly, instead becoming larger or smaller?

The machine would most likely fail to start. Khalif had already turned against Xanye, and if he lost Prima too, it would be extremely difficult to restart the project in a short time.

This thought had been vaguely forming in her mind for a while, and after seeing Mr. Charlie skillfully use magic, she suddenly realized this was an opportunity.

Prima could no longer express in words her opposition to what Khalif had done. She was utterly disappointed with his ambition and cold ruthlessness because she had always told herself that her father had flaws, was occasionally biased in his actions, but loved his daughter. He just couldn’t face reality as he aged, becoming increasingly extreme.

Until she learned that she had been living in a long-standing conspiracy. While she wore her pajamas and combed her hair, happily thinking about which street to shop on tomorrow, innocent people were being dragged into the basement only three floors below her to become sacrifices for the so-called time-reversal magic. Fear and anger made her tremble all over. She never imagined she would one day so eagerly oppose her father and destroy his evil plan that shouldn’t have existed.

When she was always with Priscilla, she had no time to seriously consider this, but after leaving that building, she repeatedly saw people from the inner city and Paradise Island at odds. Realizing that her innocent and carefree early life was like a flower blooming on a fertilizer of corpses, this idea became clearer and more urgent with each step, so urgent that she didn’t want to wait another minute.

Charlie had to explain, “Miss Prima’s wish was too strong. I couldn’t ignore such willpower. As someone who hasn’t learned magic, she almost summoned other entities with her willpower. So I intercepted her desperate vow and made a deal with her in advance.”

Such situations were rare, but not without precedent. When humans burst with intense emotions, “miracles” were most likely to happen. However, most “miracles” were actually evil forces lurking in the shadows feeding on them. They were most willing to make such sacrificial, unfair deals because, in the case of unequal power, twisting human wishes was easy.

For example, a desperate mother who lost her child might start such a deal, willing to exchange her soul for her dead child’s resurrection. The other party, after receiving the “payment”, might let the child, who has long been buried in the grave, crawl out of the soil in a half-decomposed state. The only outcome would be being purified by a mage and dying again—this time, the mother who lost both her soul and life would no longer be able to make a wish.

It should be said that Prima and Khalif indeed share the same bloodline. She inherited part of Khalif’s stubborn personality. When she made up her mind, this thought almost attracted evil covetousness, and Charlie took the lead in agreeing to help her.

Louis let go of Charlie’s shoulder. As Charlie said, when Prima’s personal will is so strong, it deserves respect regardless of others’ approval.

But his lowered hand was grabbed by Charlie, who turned his furry rabbit head and looked at him in the candlelight. “You don’t look right.”

Before Louis could struggle, Charlie agilely circled him, immediately discovering the hole in his clothes and the blood-stained fabric.

“You really came for a fight!” Charlie’s ears twitched, and now it was his turn to glare at Louis. “What’s with the injury?”

The rabbit-headed shopkeeper, familiar with external injuries, quickly lifted Louis’ coat and relaxed only after seeing the treated wound.

Louis held his hand, a bit helpless. “Is this the point?” He had been injured and bled, but it didn’t cause any spatial fluctuations to alert the Lamp Bearers. It was no longer a secret who was the Holy Grail.

“Of course.” The twins’ tacit understanding made Charlie immediately understand what Louis meant, and he said without hesitation, “I’ve always known what’s truly important.”

<<< || Table of Contents || >>>

Author: 冬瓜茶仙人 / Winter Melon Tea Immortal

Translator: Kinky || https://kinkytranslations.com/

Chapter 181

“While they’re busy fighting like dogs, we should…” Nieman pulled open the door, only to find that Louis, who was originally unconscious, had woken up at some point. Nieman was taken aback upon meeting his gaze, remembering that he was the one responsible for putting Louis there in the first place.

After all, if they hadn’t intervened earlier, the exhausted Khalif would likely have been defeated by Louis.

It was a bit awkward.

Nieman coughed and stepped aside to make room for McMullan—who, despite not being talkative, was always pushed to be the spokesperson. This time was no exception.

Louis remained lying down, although he was still wary of the group. In his current weakened state, he didn’t want to waste unnecessary energy and decided to remain silent and observe.

McMullan wasn’t a great orator, but he never exaggerated or lied. Coupled with his usual calm demeanor, he was more persuasive than the other two. He succinctly explained the situation (skipping over the parts about Sven and Vasilia) and suggested taking Louis away from there. After all, Louis was injured, Khalif was blindly arrogant, Sven had ulterior motives, and Vasilia was aggressively coming. It wouldn’t benefit anyone to get involved.

Louis found their explanation absurd. What was this nonsense about judges? He had never heard of such a ridiculous concept. If defeating Khalif in a one-on-one fight could replace him, then ten years ago, when Khalif’s physical condition declined, someone should have broken his neck and taken the head position. How could Khalif have been messing around with dark magic until now?

Even with McMullan and the others backing him, few dared to challenge Khalif directly. Earlier, Khalif, overwhelmed by emotions, had (questionably) asked for a one-on-one fight with Louis, which Louis found equally absurd.

Besides, which one of them thought he was challenging Khalif for control of the Wolf Family?

Louis didn’t respond. He slowly sat up, causing the small bird perched on his collarbone to lose its balance and tumble down, only to be caught by him.

Normally, the Gray Sentinel would either fly back to the sender or turn back into a paper bird after delivering the message. However, this one remained fluffy and showed no intention of moving on, even shaking its body and opening its little beak proudly once held.

“Geo—” Louis noticed it was about to call out and quickly pinched its beak shut, stuffing it into his coat pocket.

McMullan and the others seemed completely oblivious to the peculiar interaction between Louis and the bird. They only moved closer when he attempted to get off the sofa, though they refrained from helping as Louis’s expression was unfriendly.

…Partially because the pain from his wounds made his face look grim.

Nieman was a bit surprised. Though Louis always clashed with Khalif, he didn’t think any Wolf would refuse power when it was handed to them. One of the reasons Louis always wore a sullen face during meetings was his disdain for Khalif.

“Where are you going?” Ham asked as he saw Louis heading towards the door.

Louis didn’t answer. Although Nieman had used a hemostatic powder while bandaging him, which worked well, the effects of blood loss couldn’t be quickly reversed. He still felt dizzy and weak, as if speaking would make him vomit his guts out.

This condition was certainly not suited for causing trouble, but since Charlie’s bird had come here, it meant Charlie was looking for him. Louis didn’t know how long he had been unconscious, and Charlie could show up at any moment.

He absolutely couldn’t let Charlie and Khalif meet.

Louis carefully controlled his breathing, trying to ignore the burning sensation from his throat to his insides as he inhaled. The smoking room was only a few steps from the entrance to the underground passage. From their position, the unusually bright light inside, which seemed to be from an excessive number of candles and lamps, almost made it look like a raging fire if not for the lack of smoke and heat.

He stood there for a moment, considering the feasibility of setting a fire and blocking the entrance.

This wouldn’t only get rid of the nuisance Khalif but also completely destroy his bizarre time magic. Suddenly, his pocket moved. The little bird inside was struggling for some reason, and Louis, coming back to his senses, glanced at McMullan and the others.

Unbeknownst to him, Ham had a similar thought but wondered if it was too rash to order them to kill and set fires after just declaring he wouldn’t acknowledge or accept their judgment. But the opportunity was rare…

Just as Louis was about to speak, a genderless, piercing scream came from the underground corridor. It was terrifying, sharper and more painful than the cries of five witches together, torturing anyone who heard it.

Everyone was startled. McMullan, closest to Louis, disregarded his resistance and stepped in front of him. Panic-stricken footsteps echoed from the corridor as the screams approached. They instinctively cleared a path, and a burning figure frantically rushed out. But as he reached the entrance hall, the abundant oxygen outside intensified the flames, and he collapsed face-first due to his severe injuries.

The flames on this person were peculiar. Although his clothes, hair, and skin were burning away, the wool carpet beneath him remained unscathed. Louis and the others watched in silence as the person curled up on the floor, his screams fading with the dying flames.

Nieman approached cautiously once the figure stopped moving. “This is the man who followed Sven inside.”

It was remarkable he could recognize him—the man who had followed Sven and Xanye inside wasn’t exceptionally handsome or tall but was at least of average height with distinct features, unlike the short, charred figure now on the floor.

“Magic backlash.” Louis finally spoke, more to himself than to Nieman. As time passed and he controlled his breathing, he felt a bit stronger.

“They’ve clashed,” Ham said, crossing his arms. His gaze returned from the direction the burning man had come and fell on Louis. “Sorry, but you must leave here.”

Even if Khalif emerged victorious, looking twenty-five again, they had no intention of acknowledging someone who placed personal desires above the family. The White Bridge Auction House’s reputation was expected to plummet after tonight, a fate Khalif could have prevented.

Therefore, Louis couldn’t die here—he was younger, more rational (so far), and uninterested in the head position, which at least meant he wouldn’t embezzle like Khalif.

Of course, their plan to make Louis the head was still one-sided, as he had no intention of cooperating, which was better. They didn’t need to treat him as the head until he agreed.

If he refused to leave, they would knock him out and carry him away. Unlike McMullan, Ham, though rough-looking, had no qualms about abandoning unnecessary gentlemanly behavior.

Louis sensed the dangerous undertone and sneered.

“I don’t need you to boss me around,” he said.

“Enough,” McMullan said, trying to pacify them. “Vasilia never lingers after achieving her goals. If she hasn’t come out yet, her people must be dead inside.”

Louis irritably interrupted him. “Stop talking nonsense and move.”

McMullan and Nieman exchanged glances as they watched Louis walk towards the entrance hall.

Louis didn’t care if they thought he was complying due to threats. He was only anxious that the longer he delayed, the closer Charlie would get.

The only relief was that, despite his early departure, Alexander and the patrol team, whom he had trained, would manage without him for a short period. According to protocol, the city would be under lockdown after the auction incident, with all unauthorized transportation banned. It was a large city, and without the Gray Sentinel, it was impossible to get here quickly…

“Mr. McMullan!” A voice called out in relief. A man holding a weapon stood at the entrance hall, relaxed upon confirming their identities, and quickly approached after releasing his grip on his sword. “What happened? Why are all the lights out?”

He was surprised to see Louis among them. “Lord Louis, you’re safe! But how…?”

The man was clearly unaware of the past few hours’ events and had no idea McMullan and the others had turned against Khalif. He relaxed upon seeing them, thinking the darkness in the mansion was due to an attack or sabotage.

Louis looked up. “You’re here.”

He recognized the man as one of Khalif’s squad leaders.

“Yes. Lord Khalif ordered us to complete the task by midnight.” He whispered, “Time is almost up… Where is Lord Khalif?” It was rare for McMullan and the others to be away from Khalif, but he didn’t realize something was wrong.

McMullan took over the conversation. “Have you completed it?”

“Yes!” The man couldn’t hide his excitement. “We finally found Miss Prima after six mages tracked her continuously!”

Louis’s brow twitched, but he remained silent.

“Is she unharmed?” Nieman asked.

“Yes. Miss Prima seemed to have lost her mind for some reason, but we couldn’t harm her. We used a bit of calming oil to prevent her from struggling and hurting herself. When we found her, she was with a strange person, likely under his influence, but we subdued him too!”

After reporting, the squad leader whistled, and half a minute later, the sound of a group being pushed along was heard from the entrance.

For some reason, Louis felt a sense of foreboding. He instinctively reached into his pocket and found that the restless bird had turned back into paper.

He discreetly looked up and saw shadows appearing at the corner where the carpet ended, one of them truly “strange.”

“How many times do I have to tell you? I’m not the King of Terror. Just because I have a rabbit’s head, you assume I am? How do you know the King of Terror isn’t a zebra? An eagle? An octopus?”

Charlie, with his hands bound behind him, argued logically as he walked, guarded by wary men. Prima, on the other hand, was treated much better and handled carefully to avoid harming her. Prima remained expressionless until she saw Louis, and her eyes brightened.

The author has something to say:

Charlie: Walking is out of the question, absolutely impossible. Prima, stay here, and I’ll call a ride.

<<< || Table of Contents || >>>

Author: 冬瓜茶仙人 / Winter Melon Tea Immortal

Translator: Kinky || https://kinkytranslations.com/

Chapter 180

Louis’s senses seemed to plummet along with his consciousness. After enduring the initial pain and cold, he lost control of his limbs. His body floated helplessly, but this gave him an unprecedented feeling of lightness—in the first half of his life, moments of drifting without any concerns were few and far between.

If this was death, it wasn’t much different from what he had imagined—trading a moment of pain for endless peace was a fair deal. If there was any regret, it was that the Holy Grail was actually Charlie, and his death couldn’t break the curse.

But Charlie was smart. If he heard about Louis’s death without seeing the Lamp Bearers at White Bridge, he would understand everything. Khalif’s investigation would be in vain. As long as Charlie didn’t grieve too much and remained rational enough to leave White Bridge, no one in the world would ever know that Louis was actually two people.

But that was Charlie, always too naïve and optimistic…

Louis, in a haze, thought that it was unlikely for Charlie not to be sad.

Charlie had always been different from him. When Louis was young, he was often sick, so he was kept at home by his uncle. Lying in bed, feeling uncomfortable both physically and mentally, he was mostly unhappy. Even the servants secretly distinguished between the brothers in their hearts, calling the cheerful Charlie “Little Nut” and the always pouting Louis “Little Snail”.

In the world of Little Snail, it was always rainy. Whenever he was unhappy, he would retreat into his shell, just like Louis, who stayed in bed.

Louis hated his identity and his life, and he hated this nickname (even though no one called him that to his face). Whenever he woke up at night with a fever, he would be stubborn and refuse to let “those nasty people” pour him tea.

Charlie would help him. He was too young then, too absorbed in his own world to realize how Charlie, also just a child afraid of the dark and heights, managed to convince himself to climb out of bed in the middle of the night, holding a candle to fetch water, cough syrup, and clean pajamas for Louis, tirelessly keeping him company until they both fell asleep.

Charlie truly deserved his nickname—a child always smiling, considerate, and decisive, like a sweet nut with a little crack.

But why was he the slimy snail?

“Snails are cute,” Charlie would say earnestly, patting the blanket as he spoke. “There’s a kind of small snail by the garden well. If you hold it up to the sunlight, you’ll see it’s transparent… Even the shell! It’s like a crystal toy.”

Louis would pull the blanket up to his nose, mumbling, “Not cute at all.”

“Cute.”

“Not cute.”

“Cute. If I have a child someday, I’d like to call them Little Snail.”

Louis pulled the blanket up a bit more, covering half his face. “Why have children? This curse—”

He stopped mid-sentence because Fahim forbade them from discussing this matter without him present.

“I said if. If you have a child, what name would you give? Do you like Little Nut?” Charlie stubbornly continued.

Louis was distracted by him, frowning as he thought for a while. “That’s a nickname, not a proper name.”

“Then you think of one, and I’ll think of one too,” Charlie said, clearly not sleepy and full of enthusiasm. “Louis, do you prefer boys or girls?”

Louis thought for a long time before saying, “Boys.”

Their sensitive status meant they had almost no playmates their age. His understanding of girls was limited to knowing that girls grew into women. The women he knew were either stern grammar teachers or plump housekeepers, and even if they were shrunk down, Louis didn’t want to play with them.

“I want a daughter,” Charlie said. “And I’d name her Jenny.”

“What about you? What about you?” He nudged the blanket-covered Louis. “What name would you give your future child?”

“George.” Louis’s muffled voice came through the blanket. “George.”

“George! George! George! George!”

Louis felt dazed and confused, not sure why he suddenly remembered something from so long ago.

George… Why did he think of that?

Whispered conversations between two kids who didn’t even have a sense of gender identity—he thought he had long forgotten these trivial details.

“George! George! George!”

But someone kept shouting the name George in his ear, making it impossible for him to concentrate.

Stop yelling.

Louis frowned, wanting to stop the voice, but found he couldn’t speak.

“George! George!”

He had a splitting headache—Louis abruptly opened his eyes, finding his vision blurred. His insides felt like they had been wrung out, and even breathing was painful.

“George! George!” The incessant voice was real.

Louis tried to turn his head to locate the source, but his vision hadn’t cleared, and his eyes were still unfocused.

However, the overly excited little bird immediately noticed his movement, jumped onto his chest, and nuzzled his chin, falling silent.

Based on the feel, size, and personality (?), Louis could deduce it was Charlie’s Gray Sentinel even without seeing it clearly.

This little bird was modeled after a species in the deep forests of Doran, adept at reconnaissance. It looked similar to an ordinary sparrow but had completely different flight capabilities and sharpness. The local natives once tamed them for combat, but this led to near extinction—a fact Charlie read about in the library and liked these clever little creatures. Hence, when developing communication magic, he immediately thought of them.

Louis wasn’t as interested in rare animals as Charlie, but Charlie’s magic always had a strong personal touch, making it hard not to recognize.

He said George… Priscilla?

Louis’s vision became clearer. He moved his fingers, slowly regaining control of his limbs, and despite the immense pain, he realized his wounds had been treated.

Perhaps due to the messenger bird’s relentless efforts to deliver the message, Louis’s hearing recovered first, possibly because the people outside weren’t speaking softly.

……

Ham slammed into the wall, his back and hands going numb from the shock.

The battle-mad Lion Family’s reputation was well-deserved. Ham had never encountered a woman like this in his life—her speed, strength, and combat awareness were far beyond ordinary. Every muscle was honed into a killing machine, and her aggressive style was truly fierce.

She hadn’t even drawn her weapon. If McMullan hadn’t warned him, Ham might have been seriously injured by her first strike, something he would have considered an impossible joke in his previous life.

“Vasilia,” McMullan said, straining to block her punch but unable to suppress her raging anger.

“Where?” Vasilia asked coldly.

All three men realized what she was asking. Although the Black Gold Family had a large population, the truly excellent and valuable candidates for future leadership were precious in any family. This time, the young person representing the Lion Family at White Bridge was one of the most promising new generations.

No wonder she was so angry.

McMullan said gravely, “Vasilia, you know the rules! Illegally entering the Wolf Family estate and attacking—do you not teach your juniors the understanding of victory and defeat?”

Neiman found it odd. It was his first time seeing the famous Vasilia, but McMullan’s tone sounded like they knew each other. How could they have had the chance to meet? Besides, Vasilia wasn’t even on the guest list for the Lion family!

Vasilia sneered, “I don’t need your words. Failing a mission requires the resolve to face death, but that doesn’t include having their bodies used for your filthy games. I will take them away tonight, whether you allow it or not.”

McMullan’s heart sank. Khalif had indeed insisted on taking the still-breathing assassin into the underground corridor, despite his injuries.

They had followed Khalif for many years and were never allowed into the forbidden area, but they were keenly aware of his occasional inexplicable rejuvenation cycles. Coupled with his secret executions of those deemed rebellious, it was clear to them that he was stealing life force from others.

Vasilia’s determination indicated she knew Khalif’s actions well, prompting her to tear away the facade and fight to prevent her family’s junior from falling into Khalif’s hands.

And her judgment was correct.

“We won’t stop you,” McMullan said after a moment of consideration.

Vasilia raised an eyebrow. Ham and Neiman looked like they had something to say—it was one thing to allow the enemy’s high-ranking members to treat this place like their backyard, but now, after letting that old Monkey in, they had to deal with a Lioness too?

McMullan shook his head at them.

“Your child is inside. Sven went in too,” he said sincerely. “They probably won’t let you have your way.”

“Khalif was defeated by me ten years ago, and it will be the same today,” Vasilia said proudly, glancing at McMullan. “But you—”

Her gaze fell on the door to the smoking room.

“It’s about time,” she said, breaking the door panel on the ground with a step and entering the corridor.

“Why didn’t you tell her that the kid is still alive?” Neiman asked McMullan in a low voice.

Ham sneered. “Do you think those people went in there to bandage the injured girl, fluff her pillow, and serve her hot soup? Khalif, injured as he is, didn’t ask for bandages. He insisted on dragging a living person in there, clearly thinking that’s the cure. It’s no coincidence that both the Monkey and Lion Families timed their entrances with Khalif’s.”

A starving vampire could drain a person in five minutes. If Khalif was quick, that short interval would be enough for him to do many things. The girl dragged in was doomed, and McMullan’s silence was the right call.

Ham thought with a schadenfreude what the old Monkey and that bitch Lion would think when they faced a newly empowered male wolf that had grown back its fangs.

The author has something to say:

About the discussion on children, back then, they didn’t even have a concept of the opposite sex. As adults, Louis doesn’t want offspring. If he has to have them, he prefers a daughter. Whoever speaks is responsible for their words; adult Louis won’t admit to it.

Also, the Fox family wouldn’t appear in such a scenario; they aren’t good at fighting.

<<< || Table of Contents || >>>

Author: 冬瓜茶仙人 / Winter Melon Tea Immortal

Translator: Kinky || https://kinkytranslations.com/

Chapter 179

Khalif leaned against the wall, his body shaking uncontrollably. Louis’s first sword strike had gone in deep, injuring his internal organs, and the wound on his ear was still bleeding. The pain and blood loss made him quickly weaken.

But he was still alive. Looking at Louis lying on the ground, he thought with satisfaction that the last time he felt like this was when he defeated the previous Wolf King.

A dark-skinned servant was squatting beside Louis, checking his breath, while the others ran down the corridor to get medication and bandages for Khalif, as he refused to leave the spot to go to his bedroom.

“Is he dead?” Khalif asked impatiently, his voice barely a whisper.

The squatting servant nodded. Khalif wearily turned his head, allowing someone beside him to clean the wound on his ear, his gaze falling on the door that Louis had nearly destroyed.

He had arrived just in time. Louis hadn’t even taken a step inside.

This was his forbidden area. Except for Xanye assisting him, no one had ever set foot here. And once the magic was completed, even Xanye was forbidden from approaching.

“What about the one in the living room?” He glanced at the attendant, who was bandaging him.

“Unconscious, but not dead.”

“Bring her here.” Khalif began to feel dizzy. If he, like Louis, was left unattended, he wouldn’t last two more hours.

He couldn’t wait for Prima. He had to activate the door again immediately to replenish his vitality.

Severely injured, Khalif couldn’t drag an unconscious person on his own. He reluctantly allowed his most loyal (and also the most heavily injured in the recent battle) attendant to help bring the assassin, who hadn’t escaped with her companions, into the underground corridor. The other three stood by, watching them go in, then simultaneously looked at Louis, who lay motionless.

“What do we do?” someone asked.

The dark-skinned servant remained silent for a moment, then lifted Louis’s coat again, the shape of the blood seeping out clearly marking the wound’s position—avoiding the heart.

It was the person who had asked what to do that had inflicted this wound.

“McMullan and you made a choice. Urch made his too,” another attendant standing to the side said.

The one who had stabbed Louis glanced at the dark-skinned McMullan, who had just confirmed Louis’s death to Khalif, but it was he who had struck the blow, so he knew what it meant.

“And you, Ham?” he asked.

“I don’t make decisions,” Ham replied.

“Then it’s two to one,” McMullan said in a deep voice. He and another lifted Louis, moving him to the nearest room. Ham hesitated but eventually stayed where he was.

McMullan was a strong enforcer, especially physically robust, but less skilled in treating injuries compared to the other attendant. He watched the other work quickly on Louis’s wounds and asked, “Why bother?”

The other shrugged without looking up. “We’ve followed Khalif for so long that obeying orders has almost become reflexive. Besides, you’ve got to give me some time to think.”

“Changing our loyalty didn’t take time.” McMullan, typically a taciturn man, spoke more than usual in the presence of his comrades.

His like-minded companion finished the emergency treatment, then looked up and met McMullan’s gaze seriously.

“Because our mission is above the head of the family,” he said.

This was a secret known to very few. As attendants to the head of the Wolf Family, their status was low (relative to the family’s cadres), but they formed the most powerful group in each generation of the Wolf’s forces.

Their public duty was singular: to protect the current head of the Wolf family. But strictly speaking, they didn’t belong to the head. They belonged to the “Wolf”.

They had another mission: to ensure the proper succession of the head’s position. For centuries, there were only two ways for the Wolf’s head to change hands. Peaceful succession, where the head groomed a legitimate heir (not necessarily by blood) and stepped down when the heir’s achievements surpassed their own, a joyous and peaceful method; or combat succession, where one defeated the head despite the head having access to the family’s full resources, naturally becoming the new Wolf King.

McMullan and his three comrades were judges of these two methods. The pack needed a strong Wolf King but not an arbitrary tyrant. When Khalif, out of hatred for Louis, dismissed his attendants and insisted on a one-on-one fight, the judgment began. Whether Louis intended to or not, they saw him as a challenger.

When Khalif, regretting the one-on-one duel, suddenly demanded his attendants join the fray, his defeat was evident. Yet Neiman, wavering, compromised by wounding Louis.

But in the end, McMullan and Neiman, who had stabbed Louis, determined Louis as the victor. Ham abstained, while Urch, who helped Khalif into the corridor, chose Khalif.

“Majority rules,” McMullan said. “Urch can’t defeat us two.” This declared Urch’s death sentence. Their mission was above all else, meaning their former comrade now had a different stance, and only one side could survive.

“He probably didn’t expect you to lie,” Neiman said seriously, then looked down at Louis. “But I think this kid lacks the will to live… His heartbeat is very weak.”

He looked at McMullan, troubled. “Do you think we’ve picked the shortest-lived head in history?”

McMullan ignored him, glancing out the door.

“Someone’s coming,” he said.

He and Neiman walked to the door, seeing several people approaching from the foyer, not bothering to soften their footsteps, seemingly wanting the people inside to notice their presence, even if they were uninvited.

The one leading was a woman, Xanye.

Seeing the standing men, she looked guarded. Having been by Khalif’s side for some time, she was familiar with them—though Khalif treated them no differently than other servants, their strength was undeniable.

“McMullan,” she said, like a greeting, to the dark-skinned servant leading them. But McMullan’s gaze fell on the short, hunched old man behind her.

This was the head of the Monkey Family.

A cunning old man, much more scheming than Xanye. He had no hair or eyebrows. His wrinkled face resembled that of an old turtle, with an inconspicuous smile.

“Judges,” he said. Evidently, he was one of the few who knew the truth. Seeing these people, who should be with Khalif, appear alone, he understood their current status immediately. “One is missing… Is Khalif still alive?”

Xanye glanced at the corridor leading underground, easily sensing the magical fluctuations from within. She seemed uneasy, but the old man shook his head, scrutinizing McMullan and Neiman.

He only slightly turned his body in that direction, and McMullan and Neiman blocked the doorway simultaneously, making their intentions clear.

But the other party didn’t seem to need to enter. He shook his head slightly, as if savoring the air, then said, “Disgust, fatigue, despair, but calm, proactive… very contradictory. Only young people have so many troubles.”

Xanye looked a bit surprised. McMullan and Neiman’s stance was clearly protective, but the person inside wasn’t Khalif?

She had only been gone a few hours. What on earth had happened during this time?

“I don’t wish to disturb your master’s rest. I just want to check on my child’s magic… She said her recent research went wrong and asked me to confirm it to avoid any accidents,” the Monkey Family head said smoothly, finally turning to Ham, who was standing near the corridor entrance with his arms crossed. “You don’t mind, do you?”

Ham didn’t move.

So the old man stepped forward. Xanye was taken aback, wanting to speak but stopped. Seeing Ham didn’t stop them, she hurriedly followed, lifting her skirt, with two deep-set men behind her, silent from start to finish.

Neiman looked at Ham with a complex expression. “You’re just going to stand there?”

Ham said, “I have no obligation to Khalif anymore.” So whatever the Monkey Family wanted to do with Khalif, he didn’t need to respond.

“The things in the corridor aren’t good,” McMullan said grimly. With Louis’s successful challenge, The Wolf no longer needed Khalif, who cared only for himself and not the family. Though they didn’t know what Khalif had been doing with the Monkey Family in the underground these years, the resources consumed suggested it was an evil project satisfying his desires. Now that the old man from the Monkey Family had gone in, McMullan seriously considered the feasibility of collapsing the basement to bury them all inside.

“Let’s go,” Neiman said. “Find a doctor. It’s chaotic now. It’ll take time. Don’t let him really suffocate himself.”

“Wait.” McMullan stopped him from entering the room. Ham lowered his hands and stood straight, and Neiman sensed something, closing the previously ajar door behind them.

Just past midnight, the mansion was unusually lively, and more visitors arrived.

A tall figure walked down the corridor, the cold aura and killing intent seemingly lowering the temperature.

Though still some distance away, McMullan didn’t need to see clearly to recognize the newcomer.

“Vasilia,” he said softly.

Neiman glanced at him, and Ham stepped over the mess of splintered wood on the floor to join them.

In the room behind them, a small, round bird was struggling.

This was a smoking room with several windows. The bird took some time but finally found one window that wasn’t completely closed. It squeezed itself inside, becoming a mess of feathers and expending a lot of energy in the process.

The little bird, now exhausted, flew around the room before landing on Louis’s face. But this didn’t wake him up.

Perplexed, the bird rolled down to Louis’s neck. Weighing its options, it decided to peck him hard on the earlobe.

Still no reaction.

What’s wrong with this guy?

Uncertain and dissatisfied, the bird eyed Louis’s nose, wondering if it should peck there next. Then it remembered it had a message to deliver.

Charlie had given it “language”!

The bird hopped onto Louis’s cheek, chirped once, adjusted its tone, and then started jumping around on his face, chirping cheerfully, “George! George! George! George!”

<<< || Table of Contents || >>>

Author: 冬瓜茶仙人 / Winter Melon Tea Immortal

Translator: Kinky || https://kinkytranslations.com/

Chapter 178

The intruder in the darkness was silent. Their quick reflex and close-fitting soft leather armor shielded them from most of the damage, but the cold pain still made them retreat.

They were well-trained assassins, but Khalif’s attendants were like ten warriors each. The fight didn’t last long before the intruder realized they were at a disadvantage. Somehow, they decided to withdraw at the same time—but it was too late.

The dark-skinned attendant lashed out with his leg, kicking the person in front of him so hard that they crashed into the edge of a heavy wooden table. The table slid about a foot across the carpet, and the Goddess of Victory statue and various letter openers and wax seals on it fell to the ground. The statue landed squarely on the head of the person lying on the floor, and the sharp sound of metal hitting flesh was unmistakable.

Even though the person didn’t make a sound, everyone in the unlit room knew she was seriously injured because they could all smell the blood.

But he didn’t plan to stop. The other intruders were blocked by the attendants and couldn’t retrieve their fallen comrade. His eyes had long since adapted to the darkness, and he could see a small figure (given that the intruders were likely from the Lion Family, this was a girl) lying on the carpet. Compared to the senior members of the Lion Family, her actions were still too inexperienced. If it had been Vasilia or someone else, it wouldn’t have been so easy to end the fight so quickly.

Thinking this, he casually picked up the Goddess of Victory statue that had rolled to his feet, weighed it, and stepped forward, raising it high—

Bang.

A heavy thud echoed from the other end of the hallway.

Everyone in the living room paused for a moment. Khalif reacted immediately, pushing aside the others and heading out.

“My Lord!” The attendant noticed his actions and couldn’t help but shout.

Bang! Another thud, and Khalif roared, “Move!”

Ignoring everything, he rushed past the still-fighting people, running through the mess on the floor. His heart seemed to ache with each thud. The mansion’s lights hadn’t been restored, but he was too familiar with the house he had lived in for decades for the darkness to hinder him.

On his way, he saw a few servants collapsed on the ground, as if they had inhaled some kind of sedative, lying motionless. Khalif, annoyed by their obstruction, kicked them aside. A young footman was kicked so hard he rolled twice on the ground, hitting his head heavily on the lampstand base.

Khalif stood in the hallway, panting and staring at the person standing at the end. The once-locked door had been smashed open, and the person was holding a lantern, peering inside. Hearing Khalif’s approach, he half-turned.

“It’s you.” He squinted, his eyes filled with undisguised hatred. Even in the dim light, the other’s tall, muscular figure was clearly visible, radiating strength and endurance—the young body he most desired and envied.

Louis held an oddly shaped sword in his hand, its blade slightly curved, the hilt his usual black style. The lantern light made the blade appear especially sharp.

He glanced at Khalif, then raised his hand to hang the lantern on the broken door.

Khalif found he couldn’t suppress his loathing for this young man—loathing that had accumulated over time. It wasn’t just Louis’s extravagant youth that repelled him, but a deeper aversion he hadn’t fully explored until Louis looked at him. In that moment, Khalif understood why.

Louis bore a striking resemblance to Fahim, or rather, he was a healthier, disease-free version of Fahim with normal-colored hair, eyes, and skin.

When Fahim brought Louis to White Bridge, he was still growing, so thin that his face looked like a Monkey’s. At that time, Fahim was already in the latter half of his life, reclusive, spending most of his time sleeping, and rarely meeting guests. Over time, most of the family members had a vague impression of this capable but frail man. Only Khalif, who had suffered many losses to Fahim, kept a close watch on him.

Now, the Louis before him overlapped significantly with his memories of Fahim before his illness worsened, especially with those eyes showing only a faint disdain, so faint it seemed like a mirage.

It was like seeing the White Wolf Fahim from twenty-five years ago standing before him again.

“You really do resemble him.” Khalif raised his hand to stop the attendants from surrounding Louis. “Fahim was just like this… Arrogant but cowardly, never willing to put his fighting skills into practice, afraid his opponent’s fists and swords would dirty his shoes. Today, you have a sword. Have you finally decided to take a practical fighting lesson?”

Louis didn’t respond to his taunts.

In some ways, Khalif wasn’t wrong. Both Fahim and Louis had high talent in combat but rarely fought themselves, though for different reasons.

Fahim’s illness gradually deprived him of strength, agility, and even the ability to breathe. In the later stages, he became unimaginably weak. Louis, on the other hand, avoided injuries. The instinct to avoid bleeding had become second nature to him and his brother. This was why Fahim almost confined them to the big house in Fortuna City when they were young. Minor bleeding wasn’t an issue if treated immediately, but if blood was exposed to the air for some time, the space around the Holy Grail would subtly distort, allowing the scent of blood to notify the Lamp Bearer, drawing them near regardless of distance.

“I always knew this day would come.” Khalif ignored Louis’s silence and took a sword from an attendant. “Honestly, it came much later than I expected. If I hadn’t investigated the family for the Holy Grail, would you have kept hiding?”

“I’m not a coward,” Louis said. “But I agree that this day was inevitable.”

Khalif sneered. After the failed ambush in the living room, someone had gone to restore the lights, but the entire lighting system in the house had been sabotaged, so only candles were gradually lit. The flickering candlelight cast a sinister glow on Khalif’s wrinkled face.

“Hand over the name you’ve been hiding, and I might conceal your rebellion out of respect for Prima.” Khalif raised his sword. “Or are you the one who’s been hidden?”

When the astrologer said the Holy Grail still existed but none of the blood samples Louis provided could summon the Lamp Bearers, Khalif knew Louis had other plans. It was just that the breakthrough in the Time Gate research had temporarily diverted his attention.

He wanted to mock Louis’s overestimation of himself, but as soon as he raised his sword, Louis lunged at him.

Khalif, energized, raised his sword to block, but his strength was indeed diminished. After two days of continuous stress, he couldn’t withstand the impact and took two steps back to steady himself.

Shame and anger surged to his head. Khalif roared, recklessly lunging forward with a thrust! Louis sidestepped his fierce attack. Though Khalif was no longer young, his combat experience was richer. After missing a few blows, he quickly calmed down, no longer relying on brute force but using his familiarity with the space to corner Louis into an alcove displaying decorative paintings. Using the cramped space, he slashed horizontally. Louis kicked him in the stomach, sending Khalif staggering back. Khalif didn’t fall but leaned forward, his free hand holding a dagger. He slashed Louis’s chest, leaving a long cut.

Louis ignored the pain, knowing he had to end it quickly. As Khalif was unsteady, he swept out a clean, powerful kick. Khalif cried out, stumbling into a tall stand holding a porcelain vase, knocking it and the flowers to the floor. He steadied himself by grabbing a wall lamp and shouted, “What are you waiting for?”

Louis squinted, ignoring the three attendants rushing at him. Without waiting for Khalif to regain his balance, he thrust his sword into Khalif’s stomach, showing no mercy. Despite Khalif’s attempt to roll away, it was too late. Louis’s sword deeply pierced his abdomen, and when he withdrew, blood gushed out.

Khalif screamed in pain, clutching his stomach and falling to his knees, convulsing. Louis didn’t have time for a second strike. He turned to block the oncoming attacks but couldn’t fend off three men alone, especially ones who had followed Khalif for years and worked in perfect harmony. Though Louis injured them, he was also severely wounded, bleeding profusely.

Blood loss blurred his vision. His fingers trembled, barely gripping his sword. Realizing he couldn’t defeat the three, Louis turned his back to them again.

Khalif, panting in fear, widened his eyes, paralyzed, watching Louis come at him with a fearless aura. His brain screamed to roll away or raise his sword to block, but his body, in pain and weakness, didn’t obey. He could only watch the blade approach his neck, pain coming as expected but not fatal.

A sword pierced Louis’s back. His sword’s tip deviated from Khalif’s neck to his ear. Louis’s sword fell behind the half-cut ear.

Kicked to the ground, someone passed over his body to help Khalif. Khalif’s voice trembled with pain but was discernible.

Khalif said, “So it wasn’t you.”

Louis’s ears rang. His body was numb, but his brain still processed Khalif’s words.

He must have bled a lot, yet no phenomena appeared, indicating he wasn’t the Holy Grail, disappointing Khalif.

Lying on the ground, Louis felt his other senses fading, just like his hearing. His last coherent thought was, ‘At least it wasn’t Charlie.’

The author has something to say:

At least it wasn’t Charlie who came.

At least it wasn’t Charlie who bled.

At least it wasn’t Charlie who died.

<<< || Table of Contents || >>>

Author: 冬瓜茶仙人 / Winter Melon Tea Immortal

Translator: Kinky || https://kinkytranslations.com/

Chapter 177

Prima tightened the wool coat wrapped around her. She found it in an office cubicle. The material was a bit rough, but it covered her glossy silk satin corset dress, which would otherwise shimmer under the moonlight and easily attract unnecessary attention.

Especially now.

Even the rabbit-headed shopkeeper had removed his top hat to keep a low profile. The two of them hurried along the corner of the wall, occasionally glancing at the distant or nearby lights and the constant clamor.

White Bridge was a well-known city that never slept, but Prima had never seen it like this: doors and windows of houses along the roads or deeper inside were tightly shut—not a single light leaked out, as if no one lived inside. The windows of shops near the center were smashed. Terrifying flames illuminated the beautifully arranged goods from the daytime. Groups of people ran down the streets with torches, and the sound of horse hooves was incessant—

“Hey!” Two or three men, looking like they had just returned from looting, shouted at Prima. “Hey girl, where are you going? I’ve got money today!”

Prima was startled and instinctively wanted to look back. The rabbit-headed shopkeeper grabbed her arm, pushed her towards the inner side of the walkway, ignored the men, and quickened his pace around a dark, unlit street shop.

For about two minutes, Prima thought those men would follow them, but they didn’t.

Maybe they had already had a great haul tonight. They just laughed crudely and muttered jokes she couldn’t understand, and the noises gradually faded away.

“Mr. Charlie,” Prima asked, panting as she had to jog to keep up with him. “Do you know what’s happening? I haven’t seen any patrols…”

“The patrols were Louis’s idea. Cameron and Azman always thought it was unnecessary.” Charlie slowed his pace and whispered, “They believed that wealthy guests and family members wouldn’t wander the streets alone at night, and those who were powerless and still took risks didn’t deserve extra protection.”

Now that Louis was missing, the security rights had been completely transferred to Khalif and Azman. As soon as Azman got the power ring, he eagerly reassigned a large number of people to specifically protect Khalif and other important family members (including himself), leaving gaps in the originally well-organized teams. Therefore, when chaos broke out at the central district auction site, the speed at which the residents of Paradise Island advanced into the city was unexpectedly fast.

He didn’t answer Prima’s first question. The conflict between the inner city and Paradise Island had always existed, but the strange thing was that few people truly noticed it before, especially a well-off girl like Prima, who probably never thought that just a few streets away, people had been struggling for survival for many years.

She was Khalif’s daughter and should think about all this herself.

Because of the dry weather, White Bridge didn’t have enough drainage canals, making it inconvenient to summon Darby Belly Fish. As Charlie and Prima walked, they looked for available transportation, but many streetlights had been deliberately damaged, so they had to rely on moonlight to find their way. Charlie glanced at the moon and stopped in a corner.

Prima put her hands on her knees and watched curiously as he used an unusually short pen to draw a circle on the brick pavement, then took out a woman’s powder compact, opened it, and placed it in front of the circle. He adjusted the angle so that the moon was perfectly reflected in the small mirror.

‘So Mr. Charlie is a mage,’ Prima thought. If that was the case, his unique rabbit head and mysterious demeanor made sense.

Charlie unfastened his cufflinks and untied a thin silver chain with a crystal from his wrist. He didn’t set up any auxiliary items like sea salt, rosemary, or essential oils because the blood bond between him and Louis would attract each other—just like Khalif and Prima.

His Gray Sentinel could find Louis faster than anyone, but he wanted to improve the function a bit more because Louis knew Charlie well and was quite stubborn. He wanted to eliminate the possibility of Louis ignoring the signal from him. However, time was tight, so he hastily set up a basic magic circle. A folded paper bird was placed in the center of the circle, and a spindle-shaped crystal circled above it—like writing, but too fast for Prima to recognize the characters. The ritual ended in a blink.

“Find him for me.” Charlie touched the paper bird, and where his fingers touched, the paper turned into feathers. A sparrow the size of half a palm shook its wings in the magic circle, with three extra upright feathers on its head. It seemed to understand Charlie’s meaning by nature, hopped twice, and then flew away.

Charlie stood up and smudged the magic circle with his boot. He looked in the direction the sparrow flew and said to Prima, “Thank you for your patience, miss. Although the Sentinel flies fast, we can’t lag behind.”

……

After Khalif got home, he didn’t change his clothes immediately.

Xanye had obviously betrayed him, and the cousins looking for Prima wouldn’t show up either. But even so, it wasn’t impossible for him to find other mages—just kidding, even if the Wolf Family didn’t advocate magic, it didn’t mean they were cut off from it. Their business in White Bridge was so extensive that basic magic applications were widespread, and the family had long-term contracted mages.

But these mages told him that Prima was on the move, and the tracking magic couldn’t provide real-time tracking and needed a cooldown period, making their search inevitably lag behind.

Khalif didn’t like such incompetent responses.

“Lord Khalif.” The dark-skinned, tall attendant behind him, also one of Khalif’s personal guards, lowered his head and asked, “There is chaos at the auction site. A large group of people stormed the venue, and the guests were greatly frightened. At least five different places in the central district are on fire simultaneously. Mr. Azman is struggling to control the situation. There have been injuries and deaths among the auction guards and the rioters.”

He didn’t say, “Do you want to go there to stabilize the situation?” and Khalif didn’t need the suggestion.

Khalif ignored him and instructed, “Send another squad to find Prima. Before midnight, I want to see her safely sitting in the living room.”

The dark-skinned attendant couldn’t hide his disappointed expression and exchanged a look with the two standing beside him.

Their mission was to protect the head of the Wolf Family, and Khalif obviously thought they just needed to stay silent and be vigilant.

“If you’re so idle…” Khalif said wearily, but before he could finish, the gas lights in the hall and corridor suddenly went out. Fortunately, the maid had already lit a candelabrum in the living room, so they weren’t plunged into complete darkness, but the dim candlelight seemed somewhat ominous in the deep night.

Several attendants immediately closed in around Khalif, and one of them ordered the footman holding Khalif’s soft-soled slippers to check the gas system.

Khalif stood among them, smiling knowingly.

“I was wondering why it was so smooth all the way, with no one showing any interest in my carriage, which was unlike Cameron at all,” he said softly. “Turns out the guest was already waiting at home.”

The dark-skinned attendant’s attention was entirely on the darkness the candlelight couldn’t reach. They had undergone rigorous training and knew this was a common assassin’s trick—to suddenly change the target’s surroundings to shake their resolve while reducing their observation and judgment abilities. But this wouldn’t last long. They would soon…

His companion suddenly took half a step back, turning sideways to block a white flash faster than lightning, which also glowed blue under the candlelight, indicating a poisoned weapon.

Those around Khalif watched as the footman who had gone to check the gas valve was thrown limp into the living room, but no one spared him a glance. The dark-skinned attendant tried to escort Khalif to the study connected to the living room, but the sound of projectiles whizzing by made them swiftly block most of the weapons aimed at Khalif. However, the suddenly darkened room indicated they had been tricked. Several shots that seemed to miss went straight for the floor-standing candelabrum, slicing five of the eight burning candles, with the remaining flickers dangerously jumping in the wind.

Khalif’s hawk-like eyes scanned the surroundings. The mansion was unusually quiet, and the usually busy servants seemed frozen. They could only hear the heavy breathing of those around them and…the sound of swords.

“Clang!” The crisp sound of weapons clashing came from Khalif’s side. The attendant on his left blocked a fierce attack with his short sword. Shadows silently appeared in the living room. The dark-skinned attendant had excellent night vision. He pursed his lips, shielding Khalif without using any weapons, and charged at an oncoming figure. Though large, he was incredibly fast. Neither tested the other in the dim light. They aimed to kill. He dodged the blade and punched the attacker’s upper arm with great force, but the hand stubbornly held onto the short sword, reversing the grip for another slash. The seamless transition was muscle memory honed through countless battles.

The change in the attack was so quick that the dark-skinned attendant prepared to block with a non-vital part of his body, but suddenly, a dagger emerged from under his elbow—it was Khalif unexpectedly stabbing the attacker’s lower body—no, the abdomen!

The feel of the soft leather armor tearing made Khalif realize he had hit something. He sneered.

“It seems living in peace for too long has made some arrogant. Since when do underage Lions dare to venture into the Wolves’ den?”

<<< || Table of Contents || >>>

Author: 冬瓜茶仙人 / Winter Melon Tea Immortal

Translator: Kinky || https://kinkytranslations.com/

Chapter 176

Dr. Salman had prepared for this journey when Erica contacted him upon leaving Lababata, asking for his help.

At that time, Salman had just found his lover and sent him away, feeling aimless and lost. The message from the outside world gave him a sense of still being alive, so he agreed without much thought.

However, it wasn’t until he boarded the ship to White Bridge that Salman gradually learned about Priscilla’s special circumstances through letters from Erica and Charlie.

Priscilla had heard Erica talk about the miraculous doctor who could transform into a pigeon, so only Prima and Amber were astonished by his transformation.

With more hands, things became easier. They found a supervisor’s rest room with a bed, and Dwight carried Priscilla over.

“Where’s Erica?” Priscilla couldn’t help but worry, looking at her brother.

“Focus on deep breathing,” Dwight told her. “The knights at the house will look for Erica, and Shivers is also on his way.”

Priscilla turned her gaze to the rabbit-headed shopkeeper by the door.

The recent wave of pain had just passed, giving her a bit more strength.

“Can I talk to Charlie?” she asked Dwight, still looking at the door.

Dwight was silent for a moment.

He was already surprised that Priscilla hadn’t spoken up until now. Given her relationship with Louis dating back at least two years, she must have been suspicious when she first met Charlie in the Mokwen palace and realized he wasn’t Louis despite the resemblance.

But she never asked, even ignoring Charlie’s alternating rabbit and human forms. To some extent, both Priscilla and Louis were the type to hide their thoughts deeply. Dwight doubted even Louis knew Priscilla had met Charlie before.

“Wait until you feel better,” Dwight said softly. “You need to conserve your strength now.”

“This is important to me,” Priscilla said, gently squeezing Dwight’s hand. “Just a few minutes—let me talk to him alone.”

Charlie could guess what Priscilla wanted to discuss. Their connection was primarily through Dwight and Louis.

He knew Louis well enough to know it was hard for him to open up. Even for Charlie, it mostly took intuition and mutual understanding to guess Louis’s thoughts accurately.

So Priscilla’s unease was understandable. Charlie was feeling the same but was accustomed to not showing his anxiety to avoid affecting those around him.

“Can you tell me where Louis is?” Priscilla asked directly as soon as they were alone in the rest room, forgoing the noble habit of indirectness.

Charlie thought for a second. Louis had never revealed their connection to the Holy Grail to Priscilla, and she was a victim of Lestrop’s obsession with the Holy Grail. Not wanting to make decisions for Louis, Charlie carefully replied, “I’m not sure. But I guess he might have gone to find Khalif.”

Priscilla knew Louis disliked Khalif, but—

“Is he going to kill Khalif and take his place?” Priscilla asked, looking up at Charlie.

Alright, as expected. Charlie coughed. “He does want to kill Khalif, but not to take his place.”

Louis was probably the person who least cared about the Wolf name. As for the nobles who despised the Black Gold Families for centuries, their disdain never included the wealth accumulated by these giants.

“If you must call it something, it’s revenge,” Charlie said, pondering. “Louis has always been resolute. This has been his goal since childhood.”

“So it’s because of hatred.” Priscilla nodded, accepting this explanation. “Does he—or you—think this is a good time?”

“We don’t have much choice,” Charlie replied.

Dwight didn’t stay in the lounge to eavesdrop on their conversation. True to his word, Charlie and Priscilla talked for less than ten minutes before he came out. During that time, Salman had done some basic sanitization and was urgently training Prima on some midwifery basics. Amber was also listening, though his expression betrayed his fright.

Charlie walked over to Dwight. The two stood close, their heads bowed in a low conversation. Only the alert Emerald perked up its ears.

“I need to go,” Charlie whispered. “Louis can’t—we can’t be apart. He’s prepared for bloodshed tonight.”

With one twin shedding blood, the secret of which twin was the Holy Grail would no longer be a secret, revealing the answer to everyone interested.

Dwight glanced at Dr. Salman.

“You stay here,” Charlie continued. “Louis should have been here too. I can’t take you away from Priscilla’s side again.”

“He’s prepared for bloodshed, but what about you?” Dwight asked.

Charlie didn’t answer, and Dwight didn’t expect him to. He pushed Charlie away.

“Khalif isn’t worth it,” he said. “Not worth making any sacrifices for an old madman.”

Charlie’s wide, bright eyes fixed on him, but Dwight didn’t look back.

“I sent letters to the Empire. The documents have reached Erica’s contacts in Mokwen and Lababata. Do you know what that means?”

It meant Pennigra might intervene in White Bridge because of the Holy Grail’s existence. White Bridge didn’t belong to any kingdom on the Doran continent, so technically, this action wouldn’t violate the peace treaty between the continents.

“It might be too late,” he said.

Dwight said nothing more. He looked colder when angry, but Charlie’s words were true. He disagreed with Charlie provoking Khalif, who had countless protectors, and couldn’t leave Priscilla about to give birth. He was also angry at himself for being unable to handle both.

For the second time tonight, he felt inadequate, and he hated it.

Charlie’s next words finally stopped him.

“Remember Kurt’s prophecy? Don’t forget why you’re here.” Charlie tried to touch Dwight’s ear, but he turned his head away.

The childish gesture lightened Charlie’s mood. Ignoring Dwight’s expression, he turned to Dr. Salman. “Doctor, forgive me—but I need Miss Prima’s help.”

Prima, who had tied up her hair and donned an apron, widened her eyes.

“But I—” She looked around the room. She was the only woman there besides Priscilla. Though not a doctor, her presence provided significant comfort to Priscilla. Prima couldn’t think of anything more important than being here.

“I’m going to find your father,” Charlie said solemnly. “Did you know he left the auction early to go home? We saw it. The Monkeys might be planning to break their cooperation, and he might want to test the final results of those ‘doors’ immediately.”

“Of course, he can’t find you now, but if Khalif is determined, your absence won’t stop him.”

“Someone else will become the door instead of me.” Prima immediately understood Charlie’s point.

“No,” Charlie gently corrected her. “No one should become a door, including you. So no one will replace you. Doors shouldn’t exist.”

Charlie’s words magically lightened the heavy burden Prima had felt. Without hesitation, she began untying her apron, speaking to Amber as she did. “Remember what the doctor said…”

Amber stepped back.

“I know you remember.” Prima smiled sweetly at him. “So I’m counting on you. Dr. Salman will guide you.”

She handed the apron to Amber, glanced at the half-open lounge door, and hesitated for a second.

“Please explain to Priscilla that I have something urgent to do…but I’ll keep praying for her and the baby’s safety.”

Fearing she might change her mind, Prima took a deep breath and walked towards the hall, stopping at the corridor to wait for Charlie.

Only Dwight knew Charlie didn’t need Prima’s help. She had already told Louis (disguised as Charlie) everything she knew. Charlie just wanted to take Prima away because Khalif’s pursuers might soon close in due to the blood connection.

Running away wouldn’t solve the problem for Prima, but Charlie wouldn’t let her walk into a trap either. The excuse to separate Prima and Priscilla was to protect them both.

Dwight actually wanted to maintain his cold and ruthless persona and clearly express his disapproval and dissatisfaction with Charlie by keeping silent. But when the supposedly anxious Charlie looked back every few steps, he finally realized that this was more difficult than he had anticipated.

On the flip side, times like these, when a storm was brewing, were often the best moments to deepen relationships. Many overly sentimental love stories liked to have characters say a few heart-wrenching lines at such moments, leaving a deep impression on the audience. Regardless of whether the ending was happy or not, those few lines were destined to be remembered by the protagonists for a lifetime.

The Duke had read many lyrical poems by great writers, and his own literary grades had always been good. But when he found himself in this situation, he realized that his current feelings had nothing to do with moonlight, chirping insects, roses, nightingales, or sweet summer dreams. His overwhelming sense of loss and anxiety could be summed up in a short play composed of a few simple words.

“Just stay alive,” he said. “Stay alive for me.”

<<< || Table of Contents || >>>

Author: 冬瓜茶仙人 / Winter Melon Tea Immortal

Translator: Kinky || https://kinkytranslations.com/

Chapter 175

The Good Fortune Consulting Company had been struggling for quite some time.

At its peak, it had branch offices in three major districts of the inner city, with a wide range of services, from maid training to temporary security and shopping companionship. Customers could purchase almost any service, and their clientele included not only outside visitors but also many from the Wolf and Monkey Families who would entrust them to find suitable employees.

But those glorious days were in the past. The second-generation owner who took over from his father was too aggressive, trying to expand the family business across the continent’s various kingdoms. This overreach resulted in a broken financial chain, causing several branches in White Bridge to close, leaving only the original company on the outskirts, which was barely surviving. With business greatly reduced, during the auction period, the Good Fortune Consulting Company even gave employees an early holiday so they could “participate in the celebration”—as if their meager wages could buy anything at the auction.

As the saying goes, a starved camel is still bigger than a horse*. Although the company had faced multiple bankruptcies, the main office still looked impressive from the outside. The entire five-story building was theirs. The doorman, who had finished dinner early, planned to go to the boiler room for some hot water before it got completely dark, but he was knocked out as soon as he stepped out the door.

*Idiom referring to a person or thing that is no longer at their peak is still superior to those who never reached their level of accomplishment.

“Will he be alright?” Prima couldn’t help but ask. The doorman seemed old, and Amber didn’t appear to have held back.

“Get inside,” Amber said briskly, knowing what he was doing. He dragged the doorman into his small room, quickly tying him up securely.

Priscilla held onto Prima’s hand tightly. Prima didn’t dare delay, helping Priscilla up the front steps. There was just enough twilight left outside to see their footing.

“We can’t turn on the lights here. Anyone passing by on the street might see. Priscilla, can you still manage the stairs?” Prima used all her strength to support Priscilla, feeling her tremble.

Priscilla shook her head silently. Both she and her brother were naturally slender, a family trait, but she wasn’t as healthy as her brother. She had almost died of illness on the long journey when she first married, leaving Pennigra, and would have if her husband hadn’t been part of the royal family with ample resources.

This time felt even worse to her. The physical pain was bearable, but the fear for her unborn child made her pale, terrified of any mishap.

Amber came running back in after quickly surveying the ground floor, breaking into a locked reception room, and helping Prima settle Priscilla on the carpet, covered with a sheet.

Once Priscilla lay down, Prima drew all the curtains tightly shut before lighting the candles. Kneeling on the carpet, she gently comforted Priscilla, trying to sound confident even though she was terrified because she had no idea how to help deliver a baby.

Amber was even more at a loss than she was. After abandoning the carriage to mislead their pursuers, they discovered another group was also tracking them. Erica had diverted them alone, managing only to say, “Emerald will lead reinforcements to find you.”

There hadn’t been time to think then, but now settled, Amber grew anxious. In his view, Emerald was still a lazy, gluttonous hatchling, unable to grasp the urgency of the situation. Though their pursuers were temporarily misled, they needed a doctor, not reinforcements.

Regardless, they couldn’t let their own panic affect Priscilla. Prima forced herself to stay calm, directing Amber to find the boiler room or a kitchenette to prepare hot water while she gathered all the s she could find to elevate Priscilla’s upper body to help her breathe more easily. She kept talking to her, urging her to eat something for strength, as she looked very weak.

“I think it will go smoothly,” Prima whispered. “I wonder if the baby will be a boy or a girl.”

Priscilla, though lacking the strength to chat, knew she must stay conscious. She had Prima unbutton her nightgown, placing a worried hand on her belly.

“I once hoped for a girl,” she said. “The child’s father seemed to think so too. In our previous home, he prepared pink baby linens. But if you asked him seriously, he’d say gender doesn’t matter.”

Talking about the child improved Priscilla’s spirits a bit. “But now I think it’s greedy. A healthy child is more important than anything.”

“Didn’t the doctor say things look good?” Prima monitored her breathing, wiping her sweat. “Don’t worry. I brought all your bedside medicines, and Erica has gone for help. She said someone would come soon to assist us.”

Prima was curious about why Priscilla had left her husband and home to come to White Bridge at such a time, ending up without any family nearby. But she didn’t ask.

Priscilla shook her head, worry etched on her face. She had no time to ponder why enemies had suddenly attacked her without warning—Dwight and Louis surely hadn’t expected it either. Everyone was caught off guard.

When they left, Erica had immediately contacted Shivers. Their communication magic had no time lag, and she didn’t doubt the Brandenburg Knights’ capabilities. But now, on the verge of giving birth, Shivers could protect her but might not be able to help with childbirth.

It was a relief to have Prima with her. If Erica had to leave and only Amber was left, she feared she might panic and cry.

“Amber, go outside,” Priscilla said to the red-eyed boy. “Walk along the street… but be careful. Look for places with a seashell emblem, which could be shops or homes, or find someone in black uniform with white gloves.”

She handed a brooch to the boy. “Show them this and say you’re looking for Louis.”

Prima’s eyes widened, recognizing the Elder brooch that belonged to Louis.

This token, like Khalif’s ring, could represent someone to some extent. Louis had given such an important item to Priscilla?

Amber said nothing, nodding and running off. He knew he couldn’t do more to help there.

In the reception room, only Priscilla and Prima were left. The atmosphere became somewhat awkward. Prima couldn’t ignore the brooch, and Priscilla knew it. But whenever she tried to explain, a contraction made it impossible to think. The intervals between her painful expressions grew shorter, making Prima anxious. She kept wiping Priscilla’s sweat, holding her hand tightly, glancing at the wall clock now and then, praying Erica would arrive soon.

If things got really bad, she hoped Erica could escape safely. Without help, she would have to assist Priscilla in giving birth.

As long as those terrible enemies didn’t find this hiding place.

Just as she was praying, there was a commotion outside, making Prima jump. The reception room faced the street. She tiptoed to the window and peeked through the curtains.

It was dark outside, and the streetlights were on. She feared seeing those tall, flat monsters from before but quickly realized it wasn’t them. A group of men with clubs and shovels ran down the street, shouting and cursing, followed by faint hoofbeats.

Prima noticed some men had blood on them, which startled her. She quickly closed the curtain, afraid the men might notice this unoccupied building as a hiding place.

“It’s the auction celebration,” she told Priscilla. “Besides the guests inside, there are many lively activities in the inner city. Look, there’s no one working late in this building. They must have taken a holiday to join the festivities.”

Priscilla didn’t question her description, focusing on regulating her breathing. Prima listened anxiously to the noises outside, praying the ill-intentioned people wouldn’t find their small hideout. After some time, there was a sudden noise at the door, making Prima jump.

She hurriedly wrapped Priscilla in a blanket, glanced around, picked up an iron hat stand as a weapon, and went to the door, determined to strike first if anyone came in.

“Prima!” Someone called from the hallway. “It’s me.”

Prima paused, quickly opening the door to see Amber running towards her, followed by…

A rabbit-headed man?!

She was so shocked she forgot to lower the hat stand. The rabbit-headed man, seeing her, said, “It’s okay, Prima. Be careful not to hurt yourself.”

The hat stand, shaped like a vine, had many sharp protrusions. It was a decent weapon but could easily injure the user if handled too forcefully or excitedly.

Prima reluctantly lowered the hat stand, looking disheveled and breathless, her clothes wrinkled from kneeling on the floor for so long. Being addressed as a lady in this situation made her realize she must look quite a mess.

“Priscilla!” The rabbit-headed man’s companion ran past them to the center of the reception room, kneeling beside Priscilla and touching her forehead. Priscilla couldn’t help but cry when she saw him.

“It hurts a lot,” Priscilla said.

Dwight held her but dared not touch her swollen belly. He hadn’t expected his sister to be in such a predicament. He had read many books, but none on how to deliver a baby—only brief mentions he couldn’t recall.

For the first time, the proud Duke of Brandenburg felt powerless. He instinctively looked back at Charlie.

But Charlie wasn’t looking at him.

Charlie scanned the room, asking Amber, “Where’s Emerald?”

Amber, wondering why the first question was about the bird (or not), instinctively answered, “Released.”

“Did Erica release it?”

“Erica told me to release it,” Amber said, unable to help asking, “Should we—” find a doctor?

“No.” Charlie interrupted, striding to the window and yanking the curtain open.

“No!” Prima blurted, but it was too late. The streetlights outside illuminated the room.

“We’ll be discovered,” Prima protested timidly.

“Yes, but how will they find us if we don’t open the window?” Charlie agreed, then lifted the window sash.

Even Amber was shocked. He glanced at Priscilla lying on the carpet, frowning as he moved to stop him, but Dwight spoke first.

“Amber,” he said sternly.

Amber stayed put, still angry and confused about the shopkeeper’s actions.

Dwight watched Charlie, who stood by the window, pulling a whistle from his seemingly bottomless coat pocket and blew it hard. From Amber’s angle, it was clear he used his abdominal muscles.

Yet no one heard the whistle.

Priscilla’s contractions started again, curling up in her brother’s arms. Charlie didn’t turn around, continuing to blow the whistle out the window, determined not to stop without a response.

But who was he calling? Without a sound, who would respond?

Amber, puzzled, joined him at the window. The night wind grew stronger, sounding like it was getting closer—

Something was approaching fast!

Charlie stopped blowing the whistle, quickly pocketing it and stepping aside. He dragged over a heavy single chair. Almost immediately, a fast-moving blur crashed into the chair, landing with a thud.

Everyone was speechless in shock. It was Emerald! And it wasn’t alone. It had something in its beak—

A pigeon.

“Let go of the doctor, Emerald,” Charlie coaxed. “He might not be used to such high-speed travel. Good bird. There…”

He gently took the pigeon from Emerald’s beak. The pigeon shook its wings and transformed into a slender man.

“Forgive me, I feel a bit nauseous,” the man said. “Where are my glasses? Ah, found them. Good thing I wasn’t wearing them…”

He put on a pair of crystal glasses. His face was calm (but extremely pale) as he looked at everyone.

“Where’s the patient?” he asked.

Behind him, Charlie closed the window with a bang.

The author has something to say:

Based on my observations of the rabbit-headed shopkeeper, Dwight expected him to bring back some novel, strange, and unexpected trinkets, but after a round, he only bought some whistles, small sprayers, and such, filling a bag with odds and ends. – Chapter 69

Does anyone remember Dr. Salman?

<<< || Table of Contents || >>>