Chapter 31: Lord Williams

Carlisle locked himself in the study, pacing back and forth restlessly.

His Black Crow Squad!

Fifteen elite knights in total!

Plus Captain Perick, a formidable Second-tier warrior—sent merely to that damned Holy Light Town to collect taxes.

And the result?

Gone without a trace!

Not even a fart came back!

Logically speaking, even if they had run into a tough opponent and were defeated,

there should at least have been someone who managed to escape and report!

But no—no message at all. No sign of life, no trace of death.

“Trash!”

“A bunch of trash!”

The more Carlisle thought about it, the more furious he became.

He kicked over the low table beside him.

The silver wine jug and goblet crashed onto the floor with a clang.

Wine splashed across the expensive carpet.

At that moment—the study door was gently pushed open a crack.

A maid holding a fresh wine jug timidly poked her head in, hoping to clean up the mess.

Her young face showed careful flattery.

But that very hint of flattery—fell into Carlisle’s eyes as the most stinging mockery!

“What are you looking at?!” Carlisle suddenly turned his head.

Those bloodshot eyes fixed on the maid like daggers.

“Even a lowly wench like you dares to laugh at me?!”

The maid turned pale with fright and hastily knelt down. “My lord, I wouldn’t dare! I just—”

“Shut up!”

Carlisle stormed forward in a few steps.

He grabbed the maid by the throat—lifting her whole body off the ground!

The maid’s eyes widened in terror.

She struggled in vain, clawing at Carlisle’s iron grip, her legs kicking helplessly in the air.

“Useless! You’re all useless!”

Carlisle growled, the veins bulging on his hand.

The maid’s face turned from white to red, then from red to purple—yet it evoked not a shred of pity from him.

As if by strangling this pitiful life, he could also crush the unknown failure that haunted him.

Her struggles grew weaker and weaker, until finally, her head drooped to the side and she made no sound at all.

Only then did Carlisle, like tossing away garbage, fling her aside.

The maid’s limp body struck the bookshelf with a dull thud, then slid to the floor, motionless.

Panting heavily, Carlisle irritably tugged at his collar.

“Holy Light Town… What the hell is wrong with that cursed place? Could it really be that strange?”

He muttered to himself, a faint sense of dread creeping into his heart for the first time.

Should he send more men?

But if he sent another group and they too vanished?

Yet if he didn’t send anyone—was he just supposed to let it go?

Suddenly—a cold, sticky aura—filled with the stench of decay and death—spread from the deepest part of the castle, eventually sweeping through the entire fortress!

Carlisle’s body trembled violently.

The ferocity on his face was instantly replaced by fear.

“It—it’s my brother… he’s awakened?!”

The Lord of Williams his elder brother Baron Cassius Morgan—had finally ended his months-long seclusion?

To Carlisle, this brother—twenty years his senior, stern and authoritative as a father was a figure he both respected and feared.

Especially after Cassius had secretly struck a deal with those high-ranking undead—he had become even more unfathomable and mysterious!

He had locked himself in the deepest chamber of the castle.

Aside from a mute servant who periodically brought in blood meals, no one ever saw him.

Even Carlisle had no idea what his brother had turned into inside that chamber.

He only knew that the deal was said to bring unimaginable power—and immortality!

So Carlisle dared not delay for even a moment.

He quickly straightened his disheveled robes, forced down his pounding heart, and strode toward the heavy black iron door at the castle’s center.

Upon arriving, Carlisle took a deep breath and knocked three times.

“Come in.”

A hoarse, dry voice soon responded from within, carrying an inhuman chill.

Carlisle pushed the heavy iron door open with effort.

A wave of dense, icy air—reeking of blood, rot, and a strange medicinal odor—washed over him, making his stomach churn.

He suppressed his nausea and stepped in carefully.

The chamber was dimly lit,

only a few ghostly green magic lamps providing faint light.

When Carlisle finally saw the figure seated upon the massive stone chair, even though he had mentally prepared himself, he couldn’t help but gasp!

A chill surged up from his feet straight to his crown!

Was this really his brother, Cassius Morgan?

Once a stern yet dignified elder nobleman?

Cassius’s appearance now could only be described as horrifying!

His skin had turned corpse-gray, clinging tightly to his bones—shrunken and shriveled like a centuries-old mummy.

From the hollow sockets of his eyes, two flickering green soul flames burned coldly as they fixed upon Carlisle.

His lips had all but disappeared, exposing two rows of sharp, blackened teeth.

Most chilling of all were the wisps of black deathly aura curling and twisting around his body like living things.

Was this still a man?

It was clearly a powerful corpse that had just crawled out of its grave!

“A F-Fourth-tier undead creature!”

Realizing this, Carlisle’s very soul trembled.

He understood now—this was the price of his brother’s bargain with the undead… or perhaps, its “reward.”

“Carlisle…”

Cassius’s voice slowly echoed.

“During my slumber, how fares Williams?”

Carlisle fell to his knees with a heavy thud.

His forehead pressed to the icy floor, sweat soaking through his clothes.

Under such inhuman pressure, he felt as insignificant as an ant.

“B–Brother, my lord!”

Carlisle stammered, trembling. “Williams remains largely stable, o-only… the guards of the refugee camp outside the city were all slaughtered overnight some days ago…”

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