"Do you have a death wish?"

"Then do you have any other tricks up your sleeve?"

"Hmm? I'm getting angry now!"

"Bang!"

A dull thud sounded.

This time, what flew in was a green brick, smashing hard against the wall, and it landed only a foot away from Henry Walton.

Henry Walton could even feel the force of the wind.

If that green brick had hit his head, he would likely be gravely injured, if not dead.

Yet Henry Walton still didn't turn his head to look. He was afraid that if he did, he would lose his nerve, so he kept staring outside, holding firm to his resolve, and even spoke with more emphasis: "Surely you have more than just this, don't you?"

"You brat! How infuriating!"

After a brief pause, there was a sound like someone gritting their teeth and exerting force.

"Whoosh..."

A huge gust of wind could be heard, and suddenly it grew dark overhead.

Then came a heavy crash!

Somehow, this thing had managed to bring over a massive green stone slab, the kind used for paving roads or making steps in the village. As if to show off its strength, it hurled the slab over the eaves, crashing it down from above the courtyard.

The stone slab, after landing, even rolled and slid for a bit before finally stopping at Henry Walton's feet.

This time, he had no choice but to look.

It was right at his feet.

Even in the dim moonlight, he could see it clearly.

Henry Walton lowered his head slightly.

The stone slab was nearly as long as a person, a foot wide, and almost a foot thick. It lay on the ground, pitch black, and was probably much heavier than a person.

If it had hit him, he would have been smashed to a pulp.

"......"

Henry Walton took a deep breath but said nothing.

"You're still not leaving?"

The voice outside continued to threaten.

It was both a threat and a prompt.

"......"

Henry Walton was silent for a moment, then slowly shook his head:

"I'm not leaving..."

"Hmm?"

"I'm not leaving."

This time, his voice was clearer and more resolute.

"Hmm?"

The voice outside sounded surprised.

At the same time, it seemed that a mist had risen outside, its shape distinct under the bright moonlight, drifting into the sleeping hall, driven by the wind.

Henry Walton immediately sensed something strange.

Before he could think it through, he felt a wave of dizziness, his vision rippling, the ground shifting beneath him as if he were standing on the sea. His mind grew muddled and confused, and in that haze, his resolve wavered, replaced by fear and the urge to leave.

Henry Walton braced himself against the wall, struggling to stand upright.

There really are demons haunting this ancestral hall!

This demon seems quite powerful. Maybe I can't beat it today. Perhaps I should leave for now and think of another way at home?

How can a person fight a demon?

Uncle has always treated me well, first saving my life, then raising me...

A life-saving debt... the kindness of raising me...

No! I can't leave!

Henry Walton fought hard, torn between his will and his fear, battling the urge to flee.

"This isn't right!"

This is the demon's magic.

Suddenly realizing this, he shifted from struggling with himself to fighting against the demon and its spell. Henry Walton gritted his teeth, gradually dispelling those chaotic thoughts, letting his reason and original purpose regain control.

"I'm not leaving!"

Henry Walton said it again.

As his words fell, it seemed the spell had lifted, or perhaps the demon's magic had been broken. He felt his heart gradually calm down, though the shock to his body and mind from experiencing magic for the first time still left his heart pounding.

"Why? Aren't you afraid?"

"I'm not afraid!"

"Not even of death?"

"You already have the power to easily take my life, but you should know, such power isn't unique to demons like you. There are plenty of strong men in this world—even that one just now—who could kill me with a single punch." Henry Walton's voice was young but firm. He looked down at the stone slab by his feet. "Am I supposed to be afraid of every one of them?"

"Heh! Interesting! How much did that Wang family pay you to make you so determined?"

"Not much, just enough to save a life."

Such a simple sentence, yet it carried great weight, even making the demon outside—who could throw a stone slab over the wall—fall silent for a moment.

"Money to save a life?"

Henry Walton, breathing heavily and with trembling hands, fumbled to light the oil lamp beside him as he spoke:

"My uncle first saved my life. Last year by the river, I fell in by accident, and he risked himself to save me. That's why I have a second chance at life. After that, he took on my father's responsibilities, providing for me and sending me to school." Henry Walton seemed to be explaining to the demon outside, but also to himself, giving himself reasons and courage.

Thinking of his uncle, bedridden and suffering, even nearly dying, Henry Walton's heart gradually grew calmer.

"Now he's gravely ill, his life hanging by a thread, waiting for this money to buy medicine and save him.

"Old Mr. Wang is a well-known kind and respected man in the area. I don't think he'd covet this little bit of money. If I die, there might even be some compensation. So, even if I die today, I must die here in this ancestral hall. Let my life be exchanged for my uncle's."

With each sentence, Henry Walton's voice grew steadier and more confident, until in the end, he was completely unafraid.

Not speaking of family, only of gratitude, this is how it should be.

This is how it should be.