The Record of Unusual Creatures

Chapter 483: I Know Your Ancestors

Translator: EndlessFantasy Translation Editor: EndlessFantasy Translation

A tense atmosphere filled the ancient castle of Andrea. All the servants had received strict instructions and they were ordered to stay in their rooms. The deep roaring and weird wailing that could be heard beneath the castle painted a picture of hundreds of beasts killing each other in an evil, bottomless abyss. The noise penetrated the walls, floors, and barriers of the heavy velvet carpets. It pierced, and reverberated in people's heads.

People shivered and hid in their rooms, wrapped in heavy quilts or blankets. A weird cold wind had been hovering around the castle for hours. Despite the castle's thick walls, the strange wind still broke into each room and turned the castle's interior as cold as the outdoors. Some servants even witnessed snowflakes in their rooms. The horrified servants were transferred to the hall on the second floor. This weird phenomenon was unlike the many horrific events that had taken place in the demonic castle. People immediately thought of those "exorcists" who went underground to fight the evil spirit earlier. They knew that this supernatural phenomenon had to have something to do with their underground battle.

Cold winds and snowflakes penetrating through the wall had weakened several times, and increased in intensity again. With an uneasy feeling, people connected these weird happenings to the underground battle. Whether these phenomena increased or decreased, it was kind of a comfort for them. It at least proved that the fight was still on, and those exorcists had not failed; the fighting had entered a stalemate.

For the poor folks in the castle, the evil spirit had always been synonymous with invincibility. As long as someone could fight it to a stalemate, it gave them a morale boost.

While most people stayed in their rooms and did not dare to come out, Igor, the owner of the castle, stood in the courtyard behind the main building. He was clad in a thick fur coat, which was covered in a layer of snow. The chill pierced straight into his bone marrow, but his eyes remained fixed on the door of the chapel.

The zombie-faced butler stood beside him, shivering, but he still carried out his duty. He stood upright and tried to persuade Igor, "Master, let's go back to the room, at least it's warmer inside."

"No, let's just wait a little longer," Igor murmured as if he were talking to himself. He glanced up at the high wall behind him. The walls of the castle were gradually being covered with a layer of frost, a scene that never happened for the past 300 years.

Due to the vengeful spirit's existence, the castle was always the most special place in the land of snow. Snow from the natural world never entered the area within 100 m of the castle. However, a snowstorm from this twisted nightmare was now rising up from the ground, gradually freezing the fortress. He noticed that the massive rocks were being covered with large ice sheets, and snowflakes were rising up from the ground as if they were consciously circling and covering the outer walls of the fortress. At the same time, there were also snowflakes penetrating the wall and drifting out into the sky: those snowflakes were flying out of the rooms. This bizarre phenomenon was reflected in Igor's dark brown eyes. He seemed to have a vision of an old and powerful spirit rushing up violently to the surface of the earth, and behind this spirit, there was another more powerful being chasing it. The powerful weird being possessed a wonderful melody. It was light and peculiar, like a song...

Song?

Igor shook his head. He knew that the vengeful spirit had invaded his consciousness again. He was probably seeing the vision deep underground through the vengeful spirit. But, what about the song?

While Igor was busy feeling puzzled, the bottom-up snowstorm suddenly stopped.

"Is it over?" Igor extended his already frozen hand to catch the snowflakes that were falling back down to Earth. The snow passed through his palm like a shadow. The butler next to him naturally asked, "Master, who won?"

Igor felt the voice, which had been occupying his mind for decades slowly receding. For the first time since that nightmarish sixth birthday, he finally felt an indescribable calm. "Maybe... the evil spirit is finally dead."

After a while, he heard a loud noise within the chapel. The butler could not help but feel nervous. However, when he saw the door being pushed open and a human stepping out, he was relieved.

Hao Ren was surprised to see Igor standing at the door, waiting for him. Judging from the thick snow on the old man's body, he knew Igor had been standing there since the very first moment.

"Things down there have been dealt with." Hao Ren nodded at Igor. "The vengeful... evil spirit has been captured. We'll take it away."

When Igor finally heard that everything was over, he wanted to give Hao Ren a hug. As he stepped forward he staggered and almost fell to the ground: the old man's legs were frozen.

"Thank you, thank you... I don't know how to express my gratitude. No one could lift this curse off of us for 300 years. I never thought the Andrea Family's nightmare would end in my generation..." The middle-aged butler held Igor as he staggered toward Hao Ren. "I..."

Hao Ren waved at him and said, "Let's talk about that later. I have something more important to ask you now. Do you still remember the gift your ancestor received from the witch? Is it a stone?"

Hao Ren deliberately appeared to be serious. As a result, Igor became nervous. "Yes... Is there any problem with that stone?"

"It's related to the 'curse'," said Nangong Sanba. He came up and solemnly said, "We need you to give it to us."

Igor was hesitant. He quickly calmed down from his joy of breaking free from the curse. Apparently, the stone was of great significance to him, and more important than releasing the Andrea Family from the painful, 300-year haunting of the evil spirit. "That-that stone is the foundation of the Andrea Family..." Igor said.

"A stone is more important than the curse of an evil spirit?" Becky could not help but murmur.

Igor forced a smile and said, "The ancestors warned us: the stone was a gift from the witch and it's something the future generations can enjoy. However, we must not lose or destroy it. Otherwise, we'll receive a more severe punishment from the witch—I'm not saying that I don't trust you, but I also believe in my ancestors. After all, we've been punished by the witch once, via the evil spirit that is."

Hao Ren looked at Vivian and smiled wryly. "You left such a mess behind..."

Vivian looked away, innocently. "What does that have to do with me? People back then were all superstitious, and an absolutely normal words when passed down three generations, just happened to turn into something surreptitious. How would I have known that?"

Bewildered, Igor looked at Hao Ren and Vivian, who were conversing in Chinese. The old man had no clue what they were talking about. Soon, Hao Ren turned to him. "So, you're talking about the witch, right? Look at this one here."

Hao Ren pushed Vivian forward. "This is the ancestral witch you're talking about."

Vivian rolled her eyes. "What do you mean by 'ancestral'?"

Igor was utterly shocked. "Huh?"

Hao Ren repeated his words. Igor shook his head, his smile was bordering on crying. "Please don't make jokes like this. I know that all masters are a bit odd, but this joke..."

Hao Ren did not argue any further. He reached into his Dimensional Pocket and took out a giant portrait from it. "This is the portrait of the witch we found underground. Your ancestors left it there. Your ancestors haven't entered the crypt in 200 years, so the portraits in there are still in their original state. You can see for yourself."

Igor's jaw almost dropped to the floor when he saw Hao Ren yank out a painting out of thin air. But when he saw the portrait, his jaw complelely dropped to the ground. From the very first glance, he knew that the painting was genuine, and that the style was very similar to the other portraits of the witch in the castle. Yet, he still could not believe the content of the portrait—the witch in the painting looked exactly like the girl in front of him.

"This looks..." Igor stared at the portrait of the witch and the hole with scorch marks. "This hole..."

Lily scratched her head in embarrassment—she was now in human form, so she could not wag her tail, only scratch her head. "I poked it by accident, but that's beside the point."

Igor was silent for a long while as he stood in front of the portrait. There was a fierce ideological struggle within his head, and he could not ignore it. "I can't believe that the witch has appeared so suddenly... And why did the lady not mention this earlier?"

Vivian looked at Igor with both arms folded across her chest. "Because I didn't think of it. Who would have thought that the silly boy back then would become a rich man, and that later generations would get embroiled in this mess? It doesn't matter whether you believe it or not. Just touch your own eyes."

Feeling strange, Igor rubbed his eyes. "What?"

"Your eyes weren't dark brown at birth, but grayish blue. But after a few months, they gradually turned into this color." Vivian managed to regain her memories, and found enough evidence to prove her identity. "Do you have a mirror?"

The middle-aged butler who stood next to him silently handed Igor a small hand mirror. Vivian snapped her fingers, an Igor was horrified to see the brown color in his eyes gradually fade into a grayish blue hue, which only newborns had.

"I was the one who gave you your current eyes." Vivian smiled. "I left a mark on the two menials because I had a bad memory. It was getting especially worse at that time, so I was worried that if they got separated and met again, they would also forget each other. Hence, I left behind a mark in their blood."

Lily snapped, "Then you forgot what you left behind. With such a bad memory, there's no point for you to do anything."

Vivian could only remain silent.

Igor looked at his eyes, which slowly turned brown again. He began to recall the stories he had heard about the family's eyes, stories that had been passed down from generation to generation. He finally realized who this person standing before him was.

The old man suddenly passed out.

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