Chapter 128
The dagger gleamed coldly as it thrust toward Lucy White's heart. When it was mere inches away—
Clang!
A clear, resonant chime echoed through the air.
A streak of golden light shattered through the window, violently knocking the dagger aside.
Lucy's hand, still holding the compass, froze midair as she stared in astonishment at the hovering golden shortsword. Its blade shimmered with radiant energy, the aura of blessings so dense it seemed almost tangible.
"Almost evolving into a treasure-grade artifact?" She blinked, her lips curling into an unconscious smile.
Ethan Smith truly hid his depths well.
The sword was entwined with draconic energy and golden karmic light—evidence of years of intimate nurturing by its master. This method of cultivating a weapon with accumulated virtue was no ordinary feat for a practitioner.
In contrast, the old woman's cursed dagger, though vicious and menacing, lacked a true bond with its wielder. It could only sustain its power by feeding on her life essence.
Clash! Clang!
A green and a golden streak of light tangled midair, sparks flying.
Lucy's eyes sharpened. She released her compass, letting it join the sword in encircling the dagger.
Thud!
The old woman suddenly spat a mouthful of black blood, her skeletal finger trembling as she pointed toward the doorway. "Who—?!"
A masked man strode in, dragging the corpse of a meter-long centipede behind him. The creature's black exoskeleton glowed with an eerie crimson sheen.
"My precious!" The old woman's eyes bulged with fury. This was her blood-fed earth-burrowing centipede, her means of escape for years—now slaughtered.
Seizing the moment, Lucy completed her incantation. A spectral Eight Trigrams diagram materialized above her palm, enveloping several blood-red stones. The miasmic energy receded like a tide, surging back into the old woman instead.
"No—!" A piercing shriek tore through the villa.
The old woman's skin withered before their eyes, her body contorting as vengeful spirits coiled around her like venomous snakes. She collapsed, writhing, black blood seeping from her orifices.
"What's happening...?" Vincent Powell gaped.
"Karmic backlash." Though pale, Lucy's voice held grim satisfaction. "The resentment of those she murdered is returning to her."
Ethan moved swiftly, steadying her swaying form. "Are you hurt?"
"Just drained." She leaned into his arm, catching the faint scent of ambergris. "You arrived just in time."
Without that golden sword, she would have had to expend at least three life-saving talismans.
Ting!
A crisp snap rang out. The cursed dagger wailed as it fell, pinned beneath the compass. Its malevolent energy was slowly being purified by the golden light.
When Agent Hanks and the others burst in, they found the old woman convulsing like a broken doll, the golden sword hovering protectively near Lucy—and their director cradling their new colleague with a gaze soft enough to melt ice.
"This dagger..." Lucy wrapped the spoils in a talisman.
"It was always meant for you." Ethan's lips quirked. "It's waited many years."
A strange warmth flickered in Lucy's chest as she pocketed the blade. The moment her fingers brushed its cold surface, an odd sense of familiarity washed over her.
Sirens wailed in the distance.
The old woman suddenly let out a screeching laugh. "You think... this is over?" Her milky eyes burned with madness. "The Liu family graves—"
Before she could finish, her body dissolved into a pool of black ooze, leaving only her clothes behind.
"Blood Escape Technique!" Hanks paled.
Lucy and Ethan exchanged a glance, their gazes snapping toward the Liu ancestral estate. The night wind carried the faint metallic tang of blood—and the distant, anguished wails of the dead.
(To be continued...)