"Respected Old Brad, perhaps this is not sothing you should be concerned about. If I dared to co to Italy alone, I surely didn't co here to die, did I?" Chen Fei smiled calmly at the words, but his eyes betrayed a faint sharpness and a touch of hostility.
"Oh, my apologies. I have spoken out of turn, respected Sir Chen. Forgive , but would you mind waiting here alone in the study for a mont?" Old Brad's scarlet eyes flashed with a hint of blood, and he placed his hand on his chest in apology.
"Of course," Chen Fei said calmly.
Imdiately, Old Brad's aged figure slowly backed away, gradually vanishing into the darkness. Then, abruptly, a piercing screech echoed as a dense throng of bat-like creatures with scarlet eyes burst from the dim room's window, swarming toward the leaning tower that rose high within the ancient castle.
Within that leaning tower was a cramped and gloomy room, situated in its very depths.
The entrance to the room was flanked by a long corridor dimly lit by ancient oil lamps. Figure after figure, draped in long black robes that shrouded their entire bodies, stood silently on both sides of the path. They resembled statues and exuded a nauseatingly thick scent of blood.
Moreover, the pairs of scarlet eyes hidden beneath the black hoods flickered ominously, a sight to make one's blood run cold.
HISS! HISS! HISS... At that mont, the massive swarm of bats appeared at the entrance of the dark corridor. As they landed on the ground, they transford into a human figure... who was none other than Old Brad, who had just left Chen Fei's presence.
"Clan Leader."
Instantly, the statue-like figures in black robes seed to awaken, their voices cold and sharp as crystal.
However, Old Brad did not utter a single word. He simply took his ti to tidy his slightly disheveled clothes before proceeding, expressionless, down the corridor toward its deepest end.
From a distance, the end of the corridor seed to be engulfed in a dense darkness. It was entwined with layers of a thick, nauseating scent of blood, as if a crimson abyssal behemoth was buried there—an image that made one's scalp tingle.
From sowhere, the sound of dripping water echoed—DRIP. DRIP. It was a quiet, icy sound that seed to tap against one's very soul. But Old Brad seed deaf to it, steadily advancing through the dim light cast by the oil lamps. His shadow stretched long behind him until he finally reached the end.
There, a pitifully worn and tattered door, barely a ter tall, stood erect. Through the gaps between its rotting wooden planks, one could faintly make out a cold, coffin-like cabinet. It rested on a section of the floor engraved with mysterious patterns, resembling a magic formation from a Western film.
"Old Brad, why have you co?" Suddenly, a hoarse voice emanated from the room.
"Respected Brad III, I believe it is necessary that I inform you of sothing," Old Brad halted, lifting his head to gaze intently at the door.
"Oh? Wait for for a mont."
The hoarse voice, now laced with curiosity, ca from within the room, followed by a CREAK that set one's teeth on edge. Then ca a dull THUD as a wooden plank hit the ground. Subsequently, the door was pushed open by a thin, withered hand, and a white-haired, frail, elderly figure no more than sixty to seventy centiters tall erged.
He was enveloped in an unbelievably thick scent of blood, and the scarlet glow in his eye sockets was enough to make one's pupils shrink.
"It seems to be a matter of great importance, is it not? Otherwise... you wouldn't have co to see in person, would you?" the diminutive, white-haired elder, whom Old Brad called Brad III, said tremulously, sounding as if he could breathe his last at any mont.
"Indeed, it is of great importance. Even I can hardly believe it..." Old Brad murmured to himself before speaking slowly. "A young man has arrived from the mysterious and ancient land of Huaxia. He says... he wishes to settle a score with those rats from the Crimson Fang. Furthermore, he was referred by Mr. Yama from Hong Kong."
"Mr. Yama?"
At this, a strange light flickered in Brad III's murky scarlet eyes. He slowly asked, "Are you certain it is a young man? And not... an old man with the appearance of a youth?"
In this world, there were many marvels that, while unable to grant eternal life, could allow one to maintain a youthful appearance and vigor until death. For instance, he knew of the Dark Night Elf Tribe, who were said to be descendants of the God of the Forest. They lived in a mysterious forest and had characteristically long, pointed ears. They didn't appear to age.
"If my nose hasn't failed , I don't think I was mistaken. He should be no older than thirty, but... he has a dangerous aura about him that even I found threatening," Old Brad said with a slight shrug.
"Is that so?"
Hearing this, even Brad III's scarlet eyes twinkled for a mont. A faint smile erged on his face as he coughed weakly. "COUGH... COUGH... If that's the case, it seems we'll have quite a show to watch. It's good that soone can go and rattle those irritating people for us; it's not a bad thing at all."
"Is that so? Then it seems I know what to do... But do we need to make any preparations? If..." Old Brad began to turn, seemingly ready to leave, but he suddenly added the question at the end.
"If? Do you have that much confidence in that boy? You know, however annoying they may be, they are not to be trifled with. COUGH... Have you forgotten this scar behind my ear?" Trembling, Brad III brushed the long hair beside his ear aside to reveal a deep, dark red scar.
It was shockingly conspicuous.
"...My apologies, esteed Grand Duke Brad III. I was overthinking things."
Seeing the scar, Old Brad fell silent for a mont before finally shaking his head, pushing the faint, unrealistic idea from his mind.
He was right. Before him stood Brad III, the Brad Family's sole Grand Duke-level powerhouse, whose strength surpassed even my own by an entire realm. Yet even a powerhouse like Grand Duke Brad III had been defeated by Jack the Blade—a mber of the Crimson Fang hailed as the legendary King of Assassins. The battle had left behind that shaful scar... A re young man... Even if he made feel a sense of danger, so what? In the face of a legendary King of Assassins, it was all an illusion, completely aningless.
He then turned his head and prepared to leave, ready to abandon that unrealistic idea and steer clear of these muddy waters.
COUGH... COUGH, COUGH... Brad III's weak coughing echoed from behind him. The dilapidated door was pushed open once again, issuing a grating CREAK that set one's teeth on edge, then it was closed, returning everything to quiet and darkness.
A few minutes later, Old Brad reappeared where he had first t Chen Fei.
"Esteed Sir Chen, I believe I have brought you what you wanted." Old Brad did not ntion where he had been, but he returned with a map. It was marked with snow-covered regions, among which was a notable symbol: a beast's fang, dripping with blood.
"Right here," Old Brad said slowly, pointing at the region marked by the blood-dripping fang. "The place you wanted to know about, esteed Sir Chen... the lair of those rats."
"What place is this?" Chen Fei frowned, unable to understand the map annotated in Italian.
"This is the Alps. They are located to the north of us here in Italy," Old Brad explained.
"So, the Alps," Chen Fei realized. After all, the Alps were famous worldwide; even a Huaxia native like him had heard of them.
"However... esteed Old Brad, could you have soone translate this map for into either English or the Huaxia language? I apologize, but I don't understand Italian," he then added.
After all, the Alps were vast. He would almost certainly get lost if he ventured inside with a map in a language he couldn't read.
"Oh, my apologies, that was negligent of . Give so ti, and I assure you will have what you need by tomorrow morning. Perhaps tonight, esteed Sir Chen, you might rest well within Brad Castle? As a saying in Huaxia goes... allow to extend to you the host's hospitality?" Old Brad said with a smile.
"In that case... I graciously accept your offer," Chen Fei smiled and nodded. Having been traveling on and off for the better part of a month, he was indeed a bit tired and could use the rest.
And so, Chen Fei spent the night at Brad Castle.
The next morning, a pale but elegant, long-haired middle-aged man in a tailcoat appeared before Chen Fei. He handed over a translated map of the Abels Mountain region in northern Italy.
"Sir, Duke Old Brad asked to give you this. Please take a look," he said respectfully.
"It's in the Huaxia language? Excellent. Thank you." Chen Fei spread the map out. Seeing it was translated into his native tongue, he squinted his eyes in a satisfied smile. Soon after, a modified rcedes G-Wagen drove out from Brad Castle, heading north toward the Alps.
User Comments
0 comments from readers