Chapter 1 The Tension in the Ancient Castle

An atmosphere of tension permeated the ancient Andrei castle. All the servants had been instructed to stay in their rooms and not to wander about. The deep rumbling and strange shrieks emanating from the castle's depths were reminiscent of hundreds of giant beasts locked in mortal combat within that bottomless, evil abyss. The sound pierced through high walls, floors, and thick velvet carpets, echoing directly into the brain.

People huddled in their rooms, shivering beneath thick quilts or blankets. A strange, chilling wind had been swirling throughout the castle for hours. Even with the thick walls, this unnatural gust penetrated every room, making the castle as cold as the outside. Some of the servants on the lower floors even saw phantom snowflakes appearing out of nowhere in their rooms. Terrified, they were moved to the main hall on the second floor. This bizarre phenomenon was unprecedented in the haunted castle's history. The people thought of the exorcists who had entered the underground to fight the evil spirit earlier, and they knew that the supernatural phenomenon must be related to the fierce battle taking place deep below.

The wind and snow abated several times, only to intensify again. The people uneasily speculated that these strange phenomena were related to the battle situation deep underground. Whether these phenomena intensified or weakened, it was a comfort to them. It at least proved that the battle was still going on, that the exorcists had not failed, and that the battle had entered a stalemate.

To the poor souls in this castle, the evil spirit had always been synonymous with invincibility. Anyone who could fight it to a standstill was a great encouragement to them.

While most people stayed in their rooms, afraid to go out, Igor, the master of the castle, stood in the courtyard behind the main building, wearing a heavy fur coat, covered in a layer of snowflakes. The cold had almost seeped into his bones, but his eyes remained fixed on the door of the small chapel.

The zombie-faced butler stood beside him, shivering from the cold, but still dutifully standing upright, trying to persuade his master, "Master, please return to your room. It will be warmer up there."

"No, wait a little longer," Igor muttered to himself. He looked up at the high wall behind him. The outer wall of the castle was gradually covered with a layer of frost, a sight unseen in the past three hundred years.

Due to the presence of the Wraith, this castle had always been a special place on the Great Snow Plains. The wind and snow from the natural world had never entered within a hundred meters of the castle. But now, a blizzard from a twisted nightmare was rising from the depths below, gradually freezing the fortress. He saw large patches of ice covering the thick rocks, and snowflakes emerged from the ground, swirling as if conscious, covering the outer wall of the fortress. At the same time, snowflakes continued to seep out of the walls and float into the high sky: those were snowflakes flying out of the rooms. This incredible phenomenon was reflected in Igor's dark brown eyes. He seemed to see an ancient and powerful soul rushing wildly towards the surface, and behind this soul was something even more powerful chasing after it. This more powerful, bizarre thing carried a wonderful melody, light and strange, seemingly a song...

A song?

Igor shook his head. He knew that the Wraith had invaded his consciousness again. He might have received a glimpse of the scene deep underground through the Wraith's senses, but what was that song about?

Just as Igor was puzzled, the blizzard that had been pouring in from below suddenly stopped.

"Is it over?" Igor stretched out his almost frozen hand to catch the snowflakes that were floating back from the sky. The latter penetrated his palm like a shadow. The butler beside him subconsciously asked, "Master, who won?"

Igor felt the voice that had been entrenched in his mind for decades slowly fading away. Since that nightmarish birthday at the age of six, he finally felt an unspeakable peace again: "Perhaps… the evil spirit is finally dead."

After a while, he heard a commotion in the chapel. The butler subconsciously tensed up, but relaxed again when he saw that it was humans who were coming out.

Hao Ren was surprised to see Igor standing at the door waiting for him. Judging by the thick layer of snowflakes on the old man, he must have been standing at the door of the chapel since the beginning.

"It's all settled down there," Hao Ren nodded to Igor. "The Wraith… the evil spirit has been captured. We'll take it away."

Igor finally heard the result with his own ears and was immediately so excited that he wanted to give Hao Ren a hug, but as soon as he took a step, he almost staggered and fell to the ground: the old man's legs were frozen stiff.

"Thank you, thank you… I don't know how to express my gratitude. No one has been able to break this curse for three hundred years. I never thought that the Andrei family's nightmare would end in my generation…" Igor, supported by the middle-aged butler, shakily came to Hao Ren. "I…"

Hao Ren waved his hand. "We'll talk about these things later. Right now, I have something more important to ask you – you still remember the gift your ancestor received from the witch, right? A stone."

Hao Ren's expression was very serious, deliberately creating a sinister atmosphere. As soon as Igor saw this situation, he became nervous: "Yes… is there something wrong with that stone?"

"It's related to the 'curse'," Nangong Sanba stepped forward and said sternly. "Hand it over to us."

As soon as Igor heard this, he hesitated. He quickly calmed down from the joy of breaking the curse. Obviously, that stone was of great significance to him, even more than the Andrei family's three hundred years of torment by the evil spirit: "This… that stone is the foundation of the Andrei family…"

"Is a stone more important than the curse of an evil spirit?" Becky couldn't help but mutter.

Igor smiled wryly. "Our ancestor once passed down a saying that the stone was a gift from the witch, which later generations could enjoy, but it must not be lost or destroyed, otherwise they would suffer even more severe punishment from the witch – it's not that I don't believe your words, but I believe the warning left by my ancestor even more. After all, we've already suffered one punishment from the witch: that evil spirit."

Hao Ren looked at Vivian with a wry smile: "What a mess you left behind back then…"

Vivian turned her head innocently: "What does that have to do with me – people were superstitious back then. Any normal sentence would become mystical after being passed down for three generations. How would I know that they would make this matter so mysterious later?"

Igor looked at Hao Ren and Vivian muttering to each other, puzzled. They were using Chinese, and the old man couldn't understand. But soon Hao Ren turned to him: "You said witch, right? Then take a look at the one next to me."

As he said that, Hao Ren pushed Vivian forward: "This is your family's ancestral witch."

Vivian rolled her eyes: "What do you mean, 'ancestral'..."

Igor was stunned: "...Huh?"

Hao Ren repeated himself, and Igor shook his head with a look that was both amused and incredulous: "Please don't joke like that. I know that masters have some quirks, but this joke…"

Hao Ren didn't waste any words, but took out the huge portrait from his dimensional pocket: "This is what we found underground, the portrait of the witch left by your ancestor in the underground palace. Since two hundred years ago, your family hasn't been able to enter the underground palace, so the portrait inside is still the original version – see for yourself."

Igor stared dumbfounded as Hao Ren conjured a painting out of thin air, and then stared even more dumbfounded at the contents of the painting. He recognized at a glance that the frame was indeed an authentic antique, and the decorative style was very similar to the witch portraits in the castle, but he still couldn't believe the contents of the painting – the witch in the portrait actually looked exactly like the girl in front of him.

"This appearance…" Igor stared at the witch in the portrait and the hole with burn marks, "This hole…"

Lily scratched her hair embarrassedly (now she was in human form, so she couldn't wag her tail, so she could only scratch her hair): "I accidentally poked it out, that's not the point."

Igor was silent in front of the portrait for a long time. After a fierce internal struggle, he was still not easily fooled: "I can't easily believe it. How could a witch suddenly appear like this… and why didn't this young lady directly…"

Vivian crossed her arms and looked at Igor: "Because I didn't remember it. Who would have thought that the silly kid back then would become a rich man, and that his descendants would develop like this. It's okay if you don't believe me. Touch your eyes."

Igor rubbed his eyes in surprise: "Huh?"

"Your eyes weren't dark brown when you were born, but gray-blue, but a few months after birth, they gradually turned into what they are now," Vivian had completely recalled what happened back then. She found enough to prove her identity, "Do you have a mirror?"

The middle-aged butler silently handed a small hand mirror to Igor. Vivian snapped her fingers, and Igor was shocked to see his eyes gradually receding from brown to gray-blue, a color that only the family's newborns would exhibit.

"These eyes are what I left you," Vivian smiled. "I left a mark on those two followers back then: because my memory was bad, especially in those years. I was afraid that I would get separated from those two kids and forget that they were my own people when I saw them again, so I left a mark in their bloodline."

Lily muttered to herself, "In the end, you even forgot that you left a mark – with your memory, you can't do anything, you know?"

Vivian: "..."

Igor watched as his eyes gradually returned to brown. He recalled the precepts about these eyes that had been passed down in his family and finally realized who was standing in front of him.

The old man fainted.