He still had half of his strength left, and all his skills and abilities remained, so these people couldn’t do anything to him. However, with the Seven Apertures Three Autumn Nails in his body, his energy was sometimes lacking, and he grew impatient with their endless shifts, day and night, harassing him. He had to deal with the pursuing insects on one hand, and on the other, keep an eye on that master and servant pair who inexplicably followed him at a leisurely pace.

If it were just Samuel Carter alone, shaking them off would be easy. But he always had a little burden with him, and besides, that William Walker—who knew what kind of mysterious figure he was—also had some skills. Several times, they managed to shake them off, but in less than half a day, he would see William Walker's face again, a face he now very much wanted to punch.

Samuel Carter silently dragged out the corpse of the black-clad man who had tried to ambush him, then returned to the room and sat down in the darkness to meditate once more. Charles Brooks noticed nothing, still sleeping soundly, lost in his dreams. These past few days, bringing him along, he hadn’t found the boy to have any unbearable young master habits. The child who used to cry at the drop of a hat, as if made of water, seemed to have been forced to grow up overnight after this ordeal.

No matter how slow the journey, he never complained. Whatever Samuel Carter said, he obeyed, very well-behaved, except he couldn’t stop calling him “Master.”

If he couldn’t change it, so be it, Samuel Carter thought. Anyway, once he dropped him off at the Zhao family by Lake Tai, he’d leave and go wherever he wanted to travel. He had it all planned out—there were still several famous mountains and great lakes to see. He wouldn’t go north anymore; there was an old friend in the southern border he hadn’t had a chance to visit. Before heading to the underworld, he’d have to pay him a visit, share a drink...

Suddenly, the boy on the bed began to struggle, drenched in sweat. He did this almost every night. On the surface, he seemed fine now, single-mindedly focused on revenge, pulling himself together, but the memory of that night still haunted him like a nightmare. Samuel Carter sighed and pushed him awake.

Charles Brooks sat up with a shout, his eyes staring blankly. After a while, he came to his senses, turned to Samuel Carter, and whispered, “Uncle Zhou... I didn’t mean to.”

He was still at an age of innocence. Though his eyes were bloodshot, they remained pure, so pure it felt strangely familiar, making Samuel Carter suddenly recall someone deeply buried in his memory.

That person who once... longed to roam the world with him.

He couldn’t help but freeze.

Charles Brooks said cautiously, “Uncle Zhou, I didn’t mean to wake you. I just dreamed of my father...” His lips trembled, turning pale. “Maybe... maybe I shouldn’t sleep anymore?”

Samuel Carter patted his shoulder and, almost unconsciously, said gently, “It’s all right. Go back to sleep. If you have another nightmare, I’ll wake you.”

Charles Brooks murmured a reply, crawled back under the covers, but his fingers still instinctively clung to Samuel Carter's sleeve.

Samuel Carter glanced meaningfully at the sleeve being held. Charles Brooks gave an embarrassed smile and quickly curled his fingers back.

Just then, it seemed someone not far away plucked a zither string. With a sharp “zheng,” Charles Brooks felt as if thunder had exploded right beside his ear, his internal organs trembling with it. Then came a wave of intense pain. He stifled a groan and clutched his chest desperately—

Author’s note: Split my nail, hurts like hell... Still working hard to type, so touching!

8

8. Chapter Eight: Moonlight ...

The zither’s sound was extremely fine, like spider silk winding around, seeming to come from all directions, carrying an indescribable, eerie, and murderous intent.

Grace Miller felt her internal energy roil the moment she heard it, but she reacted quickly and forced herself to calm down.

Meanwhile, William Walker, who had been lying on the bed, had gotten up at some point and was now standing silently by the window. Moonlight streamed through the window lattice onto his face, softening his features a little, but his eyes remained fixed, unblinking, on a spot in the darkness.

His long shadow stretched behind him, motionless. At first glance, his face was expressionless, yet there was a hint of a smile, like a cold and enigmatic statue. In the night, the danger radiating from him was completely unrestrained.

Like a ghost, neither happy nor sad.

Grace Miller was very quick-witted. Sensing something was wrong, she immediately blocked her ears, trying not to listen to the sound outside, sitting upright to regulate her breathing and focus her mind. It took quite a while before she managed to suppress the nausea.

William Walker traced the window lattice with his slender fingers and let out a low chuckle. “They actually invited Mei Qu Qin Song... Quite a move. I wonder who they’re targeting.”

Suddenly, he heard something slicing through the air, as if the zither strings were too dry to make music, only able to emit a muffled “pupu” sound. Or perhaps someone had flicked a few tiny pebbles, sending them into the boundless void.

Barely audible, yet subtly interrupting the endless, entangling zither melody—like tossing a pebble into water, sending ripples spreading out where no one could see or catch them.

The zither music faltered.

William Walker leaned against the window, closed his eyes, and listened carefully, a playful smile appearing at the corner of his lips.