"Uproot it completely..." Julian repeated the phrase, the pity and hesitation in his eyes fading away.
"You're right, Lin. If it has truly evolved from a 'curse' that records historical tragedy into a 'UMA' that actively preys on life, then we must give it a final end in the hunter's way."
However, although the resolve to act was firm, the problem of how to completely uproot a brand new UMA composed of an entire mountain's worth of flowers, with no physical form and unknown attack thods, lay before everyone.
They couldn't possibly go and burn every single one of the thousands upon thousands of heather plants on Weeping Blood Hill one by one.
That wasn't just a project too massive to complete;
more importantly, no one could guarantee whether such pure physical destruction could truly harm the conceptual core that used the curse as its skeleton and emotions as its flesh and blood.
"We need more information to verify our deductions." Lin Jie's brain returned to cool-headedness after a brief surge of fervor.
"And," his gaze turned towards the direction of the living room, "we still have our biggest weakness."
Kevin's safety is our top priority until sunset tomorrow.
If he dies during this period due to so unforeseen accident, then all our efforts will beco aningless.
"So, I suggest we split into two teams." Lin Jie quickly proposed a clear division of labor.
"William," he looked at his most trustworthy old partner, "I need you to stay here at this manor."
"Your tasks are twofold."
"First and most importantly, provide close protection for Kevin O'Connor."
"From now until we return, he cannot leave your sight for a single second."
"Second, use your sharp battlefield intuition and the special ability of [Zulu's Gaze] to conduct a thorough, carpet-style security sweep of the entire manor."
"I want you to find every potential safety hazard that could cause an accident—a loose stair railing, a chandelier cable about to fray and snap, a rug placed in a position where soone might trip over it."
This was a tedious, dull, but crucial task testing patience and observational skills.
Only soone with iron-willed perseverance and ticulous attention to detail like William could perfectly handle this job.
William had no objections.
He nodded at Lin Jie.
For him, protection was an instinct carved into his very bones.
Lin Jie's gaze turned to Julian, his eyes shining with excitent for an unknown journey of unraveling mysteries.
"Julian, you and I need to set off imdiately. Our first stop is the origin point of all the mysteries ntioned in Miss O'Connor's suicide note—Weeping Blood Hill."
"Oh?" Julian raised an eyebrow slightly, looking sowhat surprised.
"I thought you would choose to start with the 'docunts' first. Heading directly to an ominous place that may have already been 'territorialized' by an unknown, evolved UMA doesn't seem like your usual cautious style of planning before acting."
"No, on the contrary, this is the most cautious choice." Lin Jie shook his head.
"Right now, we know nothing about this so-called 'third party.' We can't even be sure if 'his' existence is rely a delusion from Miss O'Connor's ntal breakdown."
"Reasoning based on speculation without physical evidence is a castle in the air."
"And the cenotaph," Lin Jie's gaze grew profound, "is currently the only real-world anchor point we can find that has had 'physical intersection' with the 'Silver-Stringed Harp' over the past forty years."
"I need to go there to touch history, to read any recent mories that might remain on the tombstone."
"Only then can we confirm whether our deductions are truly sound."
This explanation convinced Julian.
He was well aware that Lin Jie's [Reverberation Touch] possessed a cheat-like ability that could overturn conventional investigation thods.
An hour later, under the worried and uneasy gaze of the Old Butler, Lin Jie and Julian departed O'Connor Manor by carriage, heading towards the Dartry Mountains in the southern suburbs of Dublin.
Weeping Blood Hill was not hard to find.
It was rely an unremarkable, naless hill among the rolling, erald-green pasture-covered hills.
But as the carriage drew near, Lin Jie and Julian could still feel the gradually thickening, sorrowful spiritual atmosphere in the air.
Most bizarrely, just as the legend described, the entire hill was covered in a low-growing, vigorous type of heather.
But unlike its counterparts on the surrounding hills, which bore purple or white flowers, every single heather plant here had petals displaying a rare deep red, the color of dried blood.
The hill resembled a giant sponge soaked in blood.
They easily found the legendary cenotaph belonging to "Blind-Eyed" Tarlough at the hill's summit.
It could no longer be called a "cenotaph."
All that remained was a shallow pit, brutally excavated and now overgrown with weeds, with a few broken tombstone fragnts bearing ancient Gaelic inscriptions scattered nearby.
Just as Miss O'Connor described in her suicide note, this place had long been visited by "grave robbers," leaving nothing behind.
"Our first lead is broken." Julian looked at the scene of destruction before him, disappointnt showing on his face.
"No." Lin Jie slowly shook his head. "The good show is just beginning."
Ignoring Julian's puzzled look, he walked over to the largest tombstone fragnt, where the na "Tarlough" was barely legible.
He crouched down and extended his right hand.
He was about to begin a cross-temporal "interrogation."
"Julian, keep watch around us." His voice beca ethereal and drifting.
Julian imdiately understood.
He thumped his cane hard against the ground, simultaneously pulling out a silver-glinting St. Brigid's Cross amulet from his coat, his face grave as he vigilantly scanned the surroundings.
Lin Jie took a deep breath, concentrating his ntal energy into his fingertips.
[Reverberation Touch] activated!
"Boom!"
He slled the three-hundred-year-old scent of blood, belonging to the bard Tarlough's resentnt and unwillingness, soaked into the soil beneath this land.
He heard the wind passing through the blood-red heather, emitting a sorrowful and cursed wail like a "Banshee."
But these were not what he wanted.
These were all background noise from the "past," long solidified.
He was searching for recent mories belonging to the "present."
He forced his consciousness to pierce through the thick "fog of history," precisely searching towards the "very top" of the tiline.
And then, he finally saw it.
A bizarre "mory scene" that occurred roughly two months ago unfolded in his mind like a film reel.
He saw a pitch-black, stormy night.
A tall, thin, mysterious figure draped in a black oilskin cloak appeared on this desolate hill, holding a storm lantern.
The figure did not engage in brutal digging. Instead, he professionally pulled out a peculiar instrunt made of brass and an unknown animal bone from his coat.
He patiently conducted a survey around the cenotaph.
Finally, the instrunt's needle trembled violently at an inconspicuous spot.
He took out tools from his coat and dug up the soil there.
However, what he unearthed was not the "Silver-Stringed Harp."
It was a long-rotted wooden box, carefully wrapped in oilskin.
The mysterious man opened the box.
Inside were not gold, silver, or jewels, but a scorebook buried there, recording [The Blood-Tear Dirge].
After obtaining the score, a greedy and excited smile of successful scheming appeared on the mysterious figure's face. Then, he turned and disappeared into the storm and darkness.
Lin Jie's "god's-eye view" followed the figure all the way, eventually watching him enter a brightly lit, bustling, and motley place where a street sign read "Temple Bar District."
The figure finally stopped in front of an antique shop with a sign reading "Gaelic Lion," briefly conversed with a red-haired shopkeeper, then slipped inside sideways.
The mory ended abruptly there.
Lin Jie's body jolted violently, forcibly ejected from the "interpretation" state.
"I found him!" he said to the tense-looking Julian beside him. "I found that damned 'grave robber'!"
"He is now," Lin Jie's gaze pierced towards the direction of Dublin city center, "hiding in an antique shop called 'Gaelic Lion' in the Temple Bar District!"
After hearing Lin Jie's fantastical "live broadcast," Julian was completely stunned.
"Temple Bar District, Gaelic Lion antique shop..." Lin Jie chewed over these two nas heavy with Irish nationalist flavor.
"That doesn't sound like a place for legitimate business."
A knowing, sly smile appeared on Julian's face.
"Of course it's not legitimate, my dear Lin." He explained while carefully putting away the cross amulet.
"On the surface, the Temple Bar District is Dublin's oldest and most beloved nightlife center for artists and literati."
"But beneath the surface, it's also the primary secret eting and liaison point for all Irish nationalists, radicals, and mbers of the 'Fenian Brotherhood' who advocate using violence to fight for independence."
"And the antique shop nad 'Gaelic Lion,' according to an old friend of mine at Trinity College, its owner is one of the most famous fervent supporters of the Gaelic Revival Movent in all of Dublin."
He specializes in acquiring and selling holy relics related to ancient Celtic culture, Druidic artifacts, and the history of Irish resistance against English rule.
For Irish radicals, that shop is their holy ground.
"A secret antique shop hidden within the holy ground of radicals..." A challenging smile appeared on Lin Jie's face.
"That sounds like just the right place for two foreign scholars like us, with no background, to conduct a pleasant academic visit."
The action plan was fully decided.
William would remain at the manor, weaving a safety net for Kevin.
anwhile, Lin Jie and Julian would return to Dublin, diving deep into that motley, politically charged, and dangerous Temple Bar District to search for the mysterious third party who might hold the final piece of the puzzle.
They didn't know if they would face a friend or foe.
Nor did they know the true purpose of the "grave robber" who took the score fragnt.
But they knew they had to find the answer before sunset tomorrow.
Because the footsteps of death were drawing nearer and nearer.
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