"W-What... What do you want to do!"
Amidst Rafter's tearful voice, Lorne spoke slowly, "I intend to let the God of Fate personally judge your destiny."
"Look," he shook the revolver in his hand, "there's one bullet in this gun."
"If you remain unharmed after the next five shots, I'll believe what you just said is true. We'll leave immediately and won't trouble you any further—"
"But if not—" Lorne's expression became playful.
"Wait! Wait! I really don't know anything!" Rafter shouted excitedly, cold sweat already drenching his shirt. "And, if you really think I'm hiding something, how can you use such—such a childish method—"
"Spirit Communication."
His remaining words were abruptly choked back by Lorne's cold utterance of that term.
"I think you should understand this concept to some extent."
"Dead people can't keep secrets~ It's just a bit more trouble, that's all."
"So—" Lorne's finger lightly flicked the hammer, producing a crisp "click" sound, "even if I really misjudged, so what?"
"You—you—"
Looking at the unabashedly playful smile on Lorne's face and the trembling Rafter Pound, who was so terrified he couldn't stand straight, Marich and the hidden Sharon both felt a strange sense of astonishment.
How did he suddenly exude such a vivid bully-like aura? This didn't look like acting at all.
Moreover, he still carried the halo of the "east end hero." The combination of the two actually produced an incredibly peculiar and absurd sense of contrast.
Looking at the dark barrel, which still smelled faintly of gun oil, Rafter was so frightened he couldn't even finish a sentence.
"Click."
Lorne, with a smile on his face, decisively pulled the trigger.
The sound of the empty chamber echoed particularly harshly in the silent room.
"Oh, it didn't go off." Lorne's tone was filled with blatant regret. "You have good luck. Come, let's—continue."
Saying so, he raised the muzzle once again, aiming it at Rafter's already bloodless forehead.
This time, Rafter's psychological defenses completely collapsed. He could feel that the other party really would fire, that they truly didn't care about his life! That cold killing intent enveloped him substantially.
"I—I'll talk! I'll tell you everything!" He practically roared those words.
He had always believed that his years of degradation and sinking were a matter of enduring humiliation for the family's revival. In that case, how could he die here so senselessly before the dawn arrives!
Besides, even if he really kept his mouth shut, the other party would likely kill him and then perform "Spirit Communication." Rather than making a pointless sacrifice, it was better to take the initiative and spill the information; he might even gain a slim chance of survival!
Thus, he recounted all the secrets regarding the Tudor Family in full detail—
"Tudor? As in the Tudor of the Tudor Dynasty?" Hearing this name, Lorne's eyes lit up.
"Y-Yes."
That's the Blood Emperor! Rafter wanting to restore his ancestor's glory meant the secret beneath his house was much bigger than imagined! This likely involved a fallen empire and the secrets of a high-Sequence powerhouse!
Could it be—that hidden inside are the Beyonder characteristics the Blood Emperor left as a backup plan, or something else extraordinary?
And—that sealed mysterious evil spirit—
Looking at Lorne, who had fallen into silence while thinking, Rafter also felt a bit apprehensive. To be honest, he was only ten years old back then and wasn't very clear about what was in those ruins; he only knew that an extremely terrifying ghost was sealed inside.
Lorne glanced at Rafter, then took a coin out of his pocket with his other hand and tossed it lightly. Seeing the coin land steadily on the back of his hand with the heads side up, he revealed a satisfied smile and put away the revolver.
However, before Rafter could breathe a full sigh of relief, Lorne's smiling voice rang in his ears again.
"How about you follow us and take a look inside those ruins?"
"What?!" Rafter thought he had misheard.
"Literally. You follow us to the deeper layers of those ruins—" Lorne looked down at him. "Since those ruins are related to the Tudor Dynasty, as one of the few descendants of the Tudor Family, there might be special arrangements inside that only your bloodline can trigger or understand. Having you along will save us a lot of trouble."
"I—I—" Rafter instinctively wanted to refuse. He had already told the family's greatest secret, and now he had to bring outsiders to desecrate the family ruins—
The family's final glory would be completely gone! And—there were ghosts in there!
"You have two choices," Lorne said with a smile, but his words carried no warmth, "come with us voluntarily, or—let us take your corpse."
"I believe a fresh corpse containing Tudor blood might achieve similar effects before certain rituals or mechanisms."
As soon as these words were spoken, Rafter knew he couldn't refuse at all.
"Don't be so scared." Seeing his terrified look, Lorne stepped forward and put a hand on his shoulder like an old friend. "If we really find any hidden treasures inside, I promise to give you a share—"
"R-Really?" Rafter was somewhat incredulous.
"Do you have any other choice?" Lorne countered. "With the way you are now, after all these years, what do you have to revive your family? Alcohol and women?"
"If it were really that easy to revive, your old viscount grand-uncle could have done it back then; it wouldn't be your turn. Cooperating with us might be the only chance in your life. Otherwise, if you continue to degrade until death, you might not even wait for the so-called opportunity."
"I—" Rafter hung his head and nodded.
Sharon and Marich didn't speak out against Lorne's sudden decision. Sharon was just a bit worried that Lorne's impulsive actions might bring him unnecessary trouble.
After all, that villa belonged to him now.
On the way to the ruins, each had their own thoughts.
Marich was responsible for escorting Rafter in front, while Lorne and Sharon followed unhurriedly behind them.
—
"Why did you just—" Sharon finally couldn't help but ask why Lorne had suddenly threatened Rafter; it really wasn't like his usual style.
"Just feeling that life has been too peaceful lately, not exciting at all."
"Of course, I don't mean the kind of excitement you're thinking of—" He realized the ambiguity and added, a hint of self-deprecation in his smile.
"We just explored that Amon Family mausoleum," Sharon's voice drifted over faintly.
"That's different. "James Scott" shouldn't be like this; he should be more reckless and unbridled, rather than being bound by the identity of a "hero"—that way, it's hard to get the feeling of "winning"—"
"I've been feeling a bit suppressed lately, not quite comfortable, so I wanted to vent some emotions."
Hearing this, Sharon wanted to say more, perhaps to remind him of temperance, but Lorne spoke first.
"Teacher Sharon, I know what you want to say. Don't indulge yourself, or it's easy to lose control, right?"
"Don't worry, I just want to play around a bit. And my Pathway is different from yours; it's not that easy to run into trouble."
"Besides, I've done a divination myself and have some anticipation of the current situation. If we don't get involved, Mr. Rafter's end wouldn't be much better. He would likely suffer a miserable fate because of these ruins and his bloodline anyway."
"Besides, those ruins are right below my house. If I don't figure them out completely, how can I live there peacefully in the future—"
Sharon fell into silence, unsure of what she was thinking.
Meanwhile, Rafter, walking in front, was also making his own small calculations.
He had told them basically everything he knew, including the existence of that terrifying evil spirit. However, he still hid one thing—the evil spirit's true strength.
The evil spirit's strength was extremely powerful, definitely not something ordinary people could handle!
Originally, because of the two heirs who died tragically before, Rafter hadn't dared to have any ideas about those ruins.
But now, the situation was different.
This evil spirit maniacally slaughters Tudor bloodlines, yet it has never managed to escape those ruins, which means even—
if it killed him, it likely wouldn't be of much use. In that case, would it be willing to change its thinking and "cooperate" with me, a Tudor descendant, to find a way to break the seal? Otherwise, besides me, there probably won't be another Tudor bloodline coming to its door anytime soon.
He sighed, glanced at the taciturn man with a hand on his shoulder, and listened to the footsteps behind him.
If these two really could solve that evil spirit and find some treasure—though he felt the possibility was almost zero—maybe they really would keep their promise and give him a share?
For Rafter, his current mood was incredibly contradictory and desperate. No matter which side eventually won—Lorne's group or the evil spirit—he could only pin his life on the winner's ethereal "mood."
So, the best outcome would be to let them and the evil spirit fall into a stalemate, giving him a chance to escape in the chaos.
Or—they all perish together, allowing him to win everything directly!
Like burglars committing a home invasion, the group arrived at the entrance of the ruins once again.
Before entering the ruins, Lorne suddenly pulled a peculiarly shaped submachine gun from his coat and handed it to Marich from behind.
"The lever in the middle is the safety—"
—
Marich recognized the gun as the same model used when dealing with the Indulgence Faction and immediately nodded as he took it.
Lorne himself took out that monocle once again. He also wanted to see for himself what kind of thing that evil spirit, sealed for over a thousand years, actually was.
Although Rafter hadn't given specific information about the evil spirit, Lorne believed that something existing underground in a ruin for so long must be extraordinary.
His spiritual intuition had also been sending warnings—
However, with three Beyonders cooperating, that evil spirit shouldn't be as difficult to deal with as the Indulgence Faction last time.
Even if they really couldn't win, escaping should certainly be possible.
As the exploration deepened, the group soon reached the massive stone door they hadn't dared to enter last time.
Just as the door was pushed open.
A bone-chilling yin wind suddenly blew from all around, followed by a laugh full of madness and malice echoing in the empty hall.
"Hahaha—Tudor bloodline—have you come to die—"
"And you even specially—brought a few pitiful ants to be buried with you."
Just as a certain three-in-one evil spirit, sealed for a thousand years, was enthusiastically preparing a high-profile, oppressive entrance—
he suddenly saw that among the intruders, one person had unexpectedly pulled out a monocle, unhurriedly placed it on his right eye, and was looking at him with an enthusiastic gaze.