Jiang Jiu let out a sigh.

She watched that vibrant life struggle, resist, and fade away—unseen, unheard.

From start to finish, not a sound.

The elderly couple thousands of miles away might still not know they’d lost their dearest son forever. The friend who gamed with him daily might only wonder why he’d gone offline. Everyone in his social circles saw a grayed-out profile… had anyone even noticed?

No one cares about a damp, diseased little rat.

But all that vanishes in the rain shall be reborn in flame.

The maid stood silently by the bedside. She reached out—logically, she shouldn’t have touched him, yet cold skin met her fingertips.

Gently, she closed his eyes.

"Good night."

…

Light tore through the dark.

The illusion shattered, revealing truth beneath.

Exham Priory. An ancient structure dating to England’s King James I era.

Desolate. Crumbling. Nearly devoured by time into a haunted shell. Occasionally, shadowy cults used it for secret rites.

Like a giant’s corpse: flesh rotted, leaving only a grotesque, majestic skeleton.

Little remained but ruin.

Jiang Jiu stood before its gates, gazing up at the bizarre fusion of Gothic, Romanesque, even Saxon styles—clashing, yet instinctively stirring dread.

Still… this had to be *her* Promised Land, where truth lay buried.

Genesis records Abraham’s covenant with God: his descendants would inherit the "land flowing with milk and honey." Christians later named Jerusalem that sacred place.

No one promised answers here. Yet Jiang Jiu felt it—this ruin was *hers*.

She stepped inside.

Dust choked the air. Cobwebs draped every corner. Stained glass shattered. Rotted furniture crumbled at a glance.

Gone was glory. Only bare, maze-like walls remained.

The maid walked on, Enchanted Wand in hand. A soft glow haloed her—spotless, untouched.

First-tier Purification spell. Simple. Keeps the caster clean.

Lilith taught her many spells before the Witches' Tea Assembly—all defensive, zero offense.

She’d known Jiang Jiu’s restless spirit from the start. Feared she’d rush headlong into danger. So she maxed her defenses.

Combat power? Below five. Maybe weaker than before becoming a witch. Defense? Absolute peak. As Lilith said: she could tank an ICBM head-on.

Truly… nothing to fear.

Moreover…

Jiang Jiu brushed the collar at her throat. A faint smile touched her lips.

Lady Witch claimed her as property. Thus—the old saying held: even to strike a dog, one must weigh its master. Anyone daring to harm her would first face Lilith’s wrath.

She never doubted rescue would come.

The favored one walks without fear.

Jiang Jiu knew this well.

So when eerie sounds echoed through the hollow halls, she didn’t flinch. She paused. Listened.

Skittering. Scratching. Shrieking. Close yet distant. Rats racing inside walls. Amplified by silence into maddening cacophony—*they* were the true rats in the walls.

Then—a cat’s cry.

Piercing. Agonized. As if torn apart by teeth. From the corridor’s end.

No lights remained here. Jiang Jiu *was* the light—casting Glow, shining like a several-kilowatt bulb in the dark.

Yet shadows swallowed the corridor ahead.

She narrowed her eyes.

Another light flickered there.

Feeble. Trembling. A candle in the wind.

But the light mattered less than what it revealed.

A swineherd stood at the corridor’s end—grotesque face, lantern raised. He herded fungus-caked beasts and swarming rats.

Cold-eyed, he met her gaze across the hall. His whip cracked—*crack!*—drawing a low, guttural groan from a beast.

Jiang Jiu smiled. Lifted her skirt. Curtsied with grace.

"Have you eaten yet, sir?"

"…"

Silence.

He turned. Lantern in one hand, whip in the other. Drove the herd forward, vanishing slowly into darkness.

The light faded. Shrieks and footsteps dissolved.

So… *follow*?

Horror logic screamed: unspeakable horror waited. She might vanish halfway.

Smart choice? Retreat. Burn the sin-soaked ruin.

But then… truth would die with it.

So she’d go. But not yet.

The maid stood firm. Raised her Enchanted Wand. Recalled every spell Lilith taught.

Then she chanted.

Light Step. Iron Skin. Holy Healing. Physical Boost. Soul Shield. Mental Anchor…

Clank after clank—over a dozen protections layered on herself. Physical resistance? Maxed. Magical? Maxed.

Pity no decoy spell existed. She’d have dumped all buffs on a proxy.

Still… reasonably prudent.

After all, she’d done *a tiny bit* of prep…

Yeah. Just a tiny bit.

[To be continued.]