“Madam! It’s the madam!”

Mrs. Brooks clung desperately to the arm of the handsome Taoist in front of her, as if grasping her only lifeline, crying out in misery.

She was the concubine of the silk shop owner William Brooks, having entered the household only three days ago. Even though she wore no makeup and her hair was disheveled, it was still clear she was a delicate beauty.

Henry Thompson soothed her, “Mrs. Brooks, there’s no need to panic. Please recount exactly what happened last night, from beginning to end.”

As he spoke, he calmly withdrew his arm.

“That’s right, young lady, you can rest assured. With this constable and Little Taoist Li here, we guarantee your safety!”

David Parker patted his chest as he spoke, at the same time placing his large, furry hand on Mrs. Brooks’s fragrant shoulder and rubbing it twice.

Young, beautiful, a widow! And soon to inherit the vast Brooks family estate. Mr. Parker was eager to comfort her with all his heart.

But Mrs. Brooks lifted her tear-stained face, glanced at David Parker, then at Henry Thompson, rolled her eyes at David Parker, and twisted away from his lecherous hand.

She once again clung to Henry Thompson’s other arm, sobbing, “Then I’ll tell the little Taoist, you must protect me!”

This flirtatious woman! Even scared out of her wits, she doesn’t forget to throw herself at the handsome man! David Parker cursed inwardly.

Of course, it was just impotent rage.

“It was the madam! I saw it clearly last night!” Mrs. Brooks began to speak haltingly, “It was my first day after marrying in, and I was supposed to serve tea to the madam, but… but she refused to accept me. The master said to ignore her and sent the madam to the side courtyard.”

“Who would have thought, the next day—yesterday morning—there was a sudden commotion, everyone shouting that something had happened to the madam! At dinner I asked the master what was going on, and he said the madam had an accident and died. But… but I heard from the servants, they all said the madam committed suicide.”

“I was terrified then. I—I—I knew I was just a concubine when I married in, but I never thought of competing for favor! What if she turned into a ghost and came to take revenge on me?”

“Then, last night at midnight, I woke up needing to use the chamber pot. I was sleeping on the outer side of the bed, the master on the inner side. When I got up, I found someone on my left, so I tried to get off the bed from the other side, but then I found… I found… there was someone on that side too!”

“I quickly rubbed my eyes to look, and saw that lying on my left was the madam! Her face was all blue, her whole body cold. At first I thought someone had put her corpse on the bed, and then… she suddenly opened her eyes!”

“And then… I was so scared I fainted.”

David Parker nodded beside her, imagining the scene and admitting it was indeed a bit terrifying.

“When I woke up again, it was this morning, and the maids were waking me. That’s when I found the master beside me was no longer human. He was just a pile of rotten flesh, I have no idea how the madam tortured him, I truly didn’t see a thing. The maids also said all the men in the house were dead—the servants, the gardener, the coachman… only us women are left.”

“It’s the madam taking revenge on the men!”

“She must still be here, she died with resentment, she won’t go far. She didn’t kill us this time, but who knows if she’ll kill us next time.”

“Don’t worry, there won’t be a next time,” Henry Thompson said firmly. After finally hearing all of Mrs. Brooks’s words, he decisively pulled his arm free and stepped back five paces, putting distance between them.

Mrs. Brooks’s arms were suddenly empty, and she looked at Henry Thompson with disappointment.

David Parker hurried to offer his own strong arm.

Mrs. Brooks blinked, turned, and hugged the maid beside her, sobbing again.

David Parker, left out, awkwardly walked over to Henry Thompson and asked in a low voice, “Well, what do you think?”

Henry Thompson paced into the bedroom. The first thing he saw was a screen splattered with blood, and bits of flesh stuck to the floor, the bed, even the ceiling. Although most of the bodies had already been cleared away, it was still a gruesome sight.

He asked in return, “Has Mr. Parker already examined the bodies?”

“Don’t mention it,” David Parker said with a grimace. “The servants were a bit better off—they were bitten to death, with at most a few scratch marks. But William Brooks’s death was just horrible, worse than being cut to pieces! It was like someone tore the flesh from his body strip by strip with their fingernails! No human could do that, not even a wild beast. I took one look this morning and threw up my dinner from last night!”

Henry Thompson nodded. As he leveled up from fighting monsters, his five senses had become extraordinarily sharp. At this moment, he could clearly sense a nauseating, chilling aura in the room, much like the haunted places he’d encountered before—the lingering yin energy left behind after a ghost appeared.

“From Mrs. Brooks’s account, it does seem like the work of a vengeful spirit,” Henry Thompson said. “I’ll stay here tonight and see if she appears again.”

A vengeful spirit is a type of ghost that may form when a person dies harboring extreme resentment, lingering in the world of the living by sheer force of that grudge.