Ethan Brooks stared blankly and nodded. The hall was as silent and oppressive as death itself. Outside the transparent glass curtain wall, the lush plane trees let out heavy, labored breaths in the stifling summer wind.

Chapter Two: Sold Far Away to Foreign Lands

The bedroom lights were off. Ethan Brooks sat dazed in the darkness, his mind a chaotic stampede of wild horses.

With a “dong,” the antique clock hanging on the wall struck two at midnight.

Suddenly, a sense of movement crept into the silent room.

The coffee cup on the table sprouted eight slender legs like a ghost, slowly crawling down the table leg, inching toward Ethan Brooks.

Several thick, snake-like black shadows swayed across the ceiling, gradually closing in on Ethan Brooks’s head.

The bright red wool carpet began to writhe, its fine woolen fibers transforming into countless flame-like ants, densely flickering in every corner.

Just as Ethan Brooks was about to cry out in alarm, with a “bang,” the leather sofa he was sitting on suddenly extended two scaly, jagged arms, clamping tightly over his mouth and nose.

The thick black shadows lunged down, coiling around Ethan Brooks’s neck. The flame-like ants swelled rapidly, and in an instant, the entire room became a sea of fire, flames surging and raging everywhere, devouring everything in their path. Ethan Brooks’s throat gurgled, his eyes wide with terror, as he watched a monstrous eight-legged creature crawl up his legs and sink its fangs into his thigh.

Ethan Brooks’s eyes snapped shut, and he immediately lost consciousness.

The tables and chairs crackled and burst, and an ancient painting on the wall fell to the floor with a thud.

It was a traditional Chinese ink painting, the paper yellowed with age, a line of blurred characters inscribed in the corner, which upon closer inspection resembled a Daoist talisman. This ancient painting was said to be a rare treasure from the Northern Song dynasty, with a mysterious origin, passed down through a thousand years before ending up in the hands of the Feng family ancestors. In the painting were a few sword lilies, several jagged rocks, and a snow-white fox hiding behind the stones, quietly poking out its head, its eyes lively and deep.

The ancient painting curled rapidly in the firelight, yet the white fox’s eyes within grew ever brighter, as if coming to life, staring intently at the unconscious Ethan Brooks on the floor.

With a crash, a wooden beam from the roof suddenly fell, striking Ethan Brooks hard on the head. Blood gushed forth, flowing onto the white fox in the painting.

A clear and eerie howl suddenly rang out. The white fox’s eyes turned a strange blood-red, and its body slowly faded, as if following the stream of blood from Ethan Brooks, gradually melting into the wound on his head.

“One thousand years… I am finally free from the seal.”

A bewitching voice echoed faintly.

As the fire-serpents swept and devoured, the ancient painting instantly turned to charred ash, with wisps of strange white smoke curling upward.

The door was suddenly flung open. A pretty young girl burst in, coughing and crying out in panic, “Second brother, second brother, are you all right?!”

“It’s all right, third sister. I’ve already called the fire department and the hospital. Second brother will be fine.”

Henry Brooks grabbed Emily Brooks firmly, gazing at the raging flames before him, an unfathomable look on his handsome face.

“Beep, beep beep.”

On the emergency ward’s ECG monitor, the heart rate amplitude fluctuated continuously. The attending doctor frowned at the green electrocardiogram, then turned to look at the unconscious Ethan Brooks lying on the hospital bed, shaking his head in confusion.

“Doctor, my second brother, how is he really?”

Emily Brooks’s eyes were red and swollen, clearly from crying. Having just lost her father, and now her brother suffering a mishap, the sixteen-year-old girl was so grief-stricken she didn’t know what to do.

“Don’t worry, third sister. Let’s hear what the doctor has to say.”

Henry Brooks patted Emily Brooks’s shoulder, speaking calmly.

“To be honest, your brother’s condition is very strange.”

The attending doctor stared at Ethan Brooks and said, “Normally, after a fire, there should be at least some burns on his body. But look.”

The doctor lifted the sheet covering Ethan Brooks. “Look at his skin—there’s not a trace of burn, it’s actually snow-white and tender, just like a newborn baby.”

“Then why won’t he wake up?” Emily Brooks asked sorrowfully.

“His internal organs are abnormal.”

The doctor pointed at the ECG. “Who has such a rapid heartbeat? Even an athlete after running ten thousand meters couldn’t have such a high heart rate. What’s more, his heartbeat is sometimes frighteningly fast, sometimes incredibly slow. It’s just too bizarre.”

Henry Brooks said slowly, “Doctor, you mean you can’t determine my second brother’s condition at the moment?”

“That’s right.”

The doctor nodded. “We need to run a full examination and invite specialists from other hospitals for a joint consultation before we can draw any conclusions. But judging from his current state, the likelihood of death is low.”

Emily Brooks let out a long sigh of relief. Henry Brooks’s eyes flashed as he said, “Third sister, it looks like second brother will be fine. I’ll have the driver take you home. You haven’t slept for several nights—you need to get some rest.”