This record overturned the existing understanding of the event for those present, pulling a seemingly supernatural curse case tinged with Celtic mysticism back onto a track of revenge driven by a more human evil.
There was no Banshee here. That ssenger who issued the ominous wail was not the Guardian Deity bound to an ancient family for generations in Irish legend.
It was an artificial ghost created by vile betrayal, saturated with resentnt and the power of a curse.
Its wail was not a warning but a sentence, not a reminder but an execution.
After realizing this, a serious and thorny problem imdiately surfaced in Lin Jie's mind.
"Julian, your discovery is very helpful, but it also brings a brand new puzzle."
"According to the account in this manuscript, the core of the curse lies in that Silver-Stringed Harp infused with the soul of the bard and the power of Druid blood. The curse is only triggered when it plays that specific lant nad 'The Blood-Tear Dirge'. So, the question is—"
Lin Jie's gaze swept over everyone present, posing a question that struck at the heart of the matter.
"Who, nearly three hundred years later, has regained possession of this cursed instrunt brimming with resentnt? And who has accurately mastered the score of that long-lost death lant? Finally, and most crucially, why would that person choose to restart this clan-exterminating revenge targeting the last bloodline of the O'Connor family at this particular point in ti?"
"Keep reading!" Julian's eyes also ignited with the fla of pursuing the truth. He slid the miraculous [The Scribe's Papyrus] down, covering the next page of the ancient manuscript.
The flowing golden sand grains once again rapidly translated and wrote on the papyrus. The content presented next not only answered part of Lin Jie's questions but also revealed a history of the cursed harp's wanderings that was far more tortuous and laden with a more fateful irony than they had imagined.
The author of the manuscript was clearly a later descendant of the O'Connor family, one who also suffered deeply from the curse, plagued by inner fear and remorse after "Bloody-Handed" Liam.
In the manuscript, with a pen of confession and terror, he ticulously recorded the bloodshed and ill on brought by the Silver-Stringed Harp within the family for several centuries.
After Liam O'Connor beca the first sacrifice, that harp, seen as an object of ill on, was not destroyed by the family. Instead, due to its exquisite craftsmanship and mysterious legends, it was secretly collected by successive generations of O'Connor clan heads as a trophy with a sense of conquest in the deepest treasure vault of this manor.
However, the curse did not slumber because of this.
Over the next two hundred-plus years, every now and then, one or two mbers of the O'Connor family would, out of curiosity or foolish bravado, touch or even attempt to play the harp.
And each touch seed to inadvertently awaken the undying vengeful spirit slumbering within the strings. Imdiately after, that death lant, played by no one, would sound on its own on so deep night, and then the inevitable accidental death would arrive as scheduled.
The manuscript recorded several tragedies in detail. One clan head died during a hunt when the safety chanism of his own shotgun, with only a one-in-a-million probability, jamd unexpectedly, causing it to fire and kill him.
Another heir died at his own wedding, struck precisely in the temple by a champagne cork due to over-excitent and died on the spot.
These seemingly darkly humorous accidents were exactly the sa as the deaths of Kevin's father and brother now, proving that the thod of the curse constructed by the power of Druid blood had never changed.
It was not a direct energy attack but a higher-level malicious tampering with probability and causality. It forcibly raised all potential accident probabilities around the cursed individual to one hundred percent.
This was a fatal law imbued with a sense of destiny.
When William heard about these deaths, his face involuntarily twitched. Even a warrior like him, who had faced countless deaths, had never imagined death could descend in such a ridiculous manner.
Regarding the harp's ultimate whereabouts, the final few pages of the manuscript also provided an answer that no one had expected.
The last recorder of the manuscript was Kevin O'Connor's great-grandfather, a clan head living in the 1840s during Ireland's "Great Famine," also tornted to the brink of collapse by the curse's shadow. In the final entry of his diary, he wrote the following passage with a pen of relief and madness:
"This famine sweeping across all of Ireland is God's most severe punishnt upon our sin-laden nation! And this bloody curse borne by my O'Connor family is the unforgivable original sin within this great punishnt!"
"I can no longer let this holy relic stained with betrayal and lies remain in my equally sinful hands. I have decided to return it to its true owner."
"Tonight, I will take this cursed Silver-Stringed Harp alone to 'Weeping Blood Hill'. I will place it anew before the long-neglected cenotaph of 'Blind-Eyed' Tarlough."
"I pray his spirit in heaven will accept this confession of mine, over two hundred years late. I also pray the Moon Goddess Danu will quell her wrath, allowing this bloody curse that has entangled my clan for generations to finally draw to a close."
The diary ended abruptly here. The outco of this clan head was not ntioned further in the diary.
"Weeping Blood Hill... what place is that?" Lin Jie imdiately pressed.
"That's a naless hill in the Dartry Mountains, not far south of Dublin," Professor O'Donoghue, who had been silently listening on the side, imdiately replied. "That's the legendary original cri scene where 'Bloody-Handed' Liam betrayed and killed 'Blind-Eyed' Tarlough. Legend says the soil there was soaked with the bard's blood, so the heather blooming on that hill is a rare deep red."
All the clues at this mont pointed clearly to the sa conclusion.
"That harp is no longer in the manor," Lin Jie reached this judgnt. "At least since over forty years ago, it was sent away by an O'Connor ancestor."
His gaze t Julian's and William's in the air.
"We must go to that 'Weeping Blood Hill' imdiately," Lin Jie decided decisively. "We need to confirm if that harp is still there, and we also need to search the area around the cenotaph for any possible traces of tampering!"
This line of investigation received unanimous agreent from everyone.
However, just as they were preparing to leave the library and head to the cri scene of that ominous legend, the Old Butler, who had been standing silently at the door, suddenly spoke up with a voice tinged with hesitation and fear.
"Gentlen, regarding that harp... perhaps there is soone who might know its more specific whereabouts."
Everyone's gaze instantly focused on this old man who had been overlooked by them all along.
The Old Butler's withered hand trembled slightly as he pulled out a yellowed letter from the inner pocket of his butler's uniform, its corners worn fuzzy from constant handling.
"This is the last letter written by our young lady before her death." Turbid tears welled up in the Old Butler's eyes. "Our young lady was Master Kevin's own elder sister, and the eldest daughter of the old clan head."
"She was a talented poet and folklorist. Her entire life was dedicated to researching and collecting those ancient legends and ballads on the verge of being erased by the English. She had gone alone to Weeping Blood Hill countless tis to research the life of 'Blind-Eyed' Tarlough."
"And about half a year ago..." the Old Butler's voice carried imnse grief, "our young lady suddenly fell ill with a strange lancholy. She shut herself in her room, wasting away day by day, until finally, on a rainy night, she leaped from the manor's tower, ending her own life."
"This is the suicide note she left. The master and young masters all believed it was just the ravings of a poor girl driven mad by the shadow of the family curse, so they never took it seriously."
The Old Butler handed that sorrowful letter towards Lin Jie.
"But I've always felt that our young lady discovered sothing on that damned hill that should never have been found."
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