The so-called evil sorcerer whom Old Carter had previously sought out and treated as an honored guest was nothing more than a lowly charlatan.

“Grace!”

As a man, John Thompson instinctively wanted to protect his future wife, only to find that Miss Walker was not clutching her chest and collapsing to the ground like the others. Instead, she was anxiously watching him as if nothing had happened.

“Little Lang! You?”

“Me? I’m fine too!”

John Thompson realized that he didn’t seem to be affected either. Looking around, it seemed that few people could remain standing. He couldn’t help but feel a secret delight—could it be because he had activated protagonist mode?

When his gaze returned to Miss Walker, something flashed orange-red from within the collar of her lotus-green dress. Two thin red threads emerged, looping around her fair neck.

John Thompson suddenly understood: the reason she was unharmed was because she had a strange artifact protecting her. Though unscientific, in a world with sorcerers and great demons, it wasn’t so surprising.

Sensing John Thompson’s gaze, Grace Walker blushed, pinched the thin red thread, and gently lifted the glowing object, explaining softly, “This was left to me by my mother. I didn’t know it had this kind of power.”

The pendant at the end of the red thread was a jade pixiu, also known as a jade warding charm. The orange glow gradually faded, returning to its original green jade luster. If one looked closely, the surface of the jade pixiu was covered with fine lines and mysterious runes. It was not just an ornament, but also a protective talisman.

After letting Grace Walker put the jade pixiu pendant back, John Thompson lowered his voice and whispered, “If we get a chance later, let’s leave quickly!”

Right now, this place was filled with either bandits or vengeful sorcerers. At most, he could only escape with his future wife Grace Walker and second brother William Thompson. As for the others, he could only wish them luck.

By comparison, everyone else was much stronger than the three of them, who were basically useless in a fight. If they wanted to escape, their chances of survival would be higher.

Eldest brother Mark Thompson’s return to the family home in Xiyan Town this time was not just because he was disheartened after years of fruitless searching for immortality, but also to avoid disaster.

The story behind it wasn’t complicated, but rather a bit melodramatic.

During his travels, Mark Thompson had briefly stayed at a secular Taoist temple, where he met a woman. The two unexpectedly developed feelings for each other.

But the master of the Star-Picking Pavilion, Samuel, happened to meet this woman by chance. Overcome by lust, he tried to take advantage of his status as the head of an orthodox sorcery sect to make her his concubine. However, the woman already had someone she loved and naturally refused.

In a fit of rage, the master of the Star-Picking Pavilion, Samuel, razed the secular Taoist temple where Mark Thompson had been staying. This wasn’t just a random disaster—turns out, the woman was the illegitimate daughter of the temple’s master from his youth, and it ended up costing her dearly.

All of this was the fault of hormones.

How could a secular Taoist temple provoke a sorcery sect? Even a small sect could wipe them out overnight. No one was spared. The woman was strong-willed; to preserve her chastity, she unhesitatingly slit her own throat, dying a tragic death.

Mark Thompson had luckily escaped because he was out visiting friends, but he still witnessed the master of the Star-Picking Pavilion, Samuel, and his sorcerers laughing wildly as they left the temple. When he returned, he found the woman had already taken her own life. Overcome with grief and rage, he used the strange experiences he’d accumulated during his travels—even though he hadn’t formally entered the sorcery path—to lure a great demon and ambush the culprit.

Having failed to find immortality and lost his first love, Mark Thompson returned home in utter despair.

But he never expected that the Star-Picking Pavilion would not let the matter rest and would track him down through some clues.

Wiping the blood from the corner of his mouth, his swaying body straightened proudly again. Mark Thompson looked at the two arrogant so-called orthodox sorcerers and sneered, “Heaven and earth are heartless, treating all things as dogs. If mortals are grass dogs, then so are you!”

“How dare you!”

The junior sorcerer from the Star-Picking Pavilion flew into a rage. Clearly at death’s door, yet still spouting nonsense—wasn’t he afraid of dying too slowly?

He immediately summoned his sword light, slashing at Mark Thompson’s neck in a flash, not even interested in prolonging his suffering.

“Heh heh, heh heh!”

Mark Thompson sneered, closing his eyes slightly, stretching out his neck to await execution.

“Eldest son!” His father David Thompson cried out in despair.

“Young master, look out!”

A desperate voice sounded in his ear, and at the same time, a powerful force slammed into him. Mark Thompson was knocked two or three zhang away, tumbling seven or eight times before coming to a stop.

Ignoring the pain, he immediately looked back at where he had been standing, only to see the head steward George Thompson standing in his place before the two Star-Picking Pavilion sorcerers, gripping a sharp ox-ear knife and glaring angrily at them.

Hiss!

A barely audible sound came from George Thompson’s neck, and a shocking red line quickly circled the skin.

Thud—George Thompson’s head fell off without warning, leaving only a neatly severed neck, blood gushing out wildly.

The moment he had stood there, Head Butler George Thompson of Thompson Manor had already passed into the afterlife.