Chapter 148: The Strange Tales of the Manor

Chapter 148: Manor Mysteries

Even after settling into the servants' quarters with her companions, Meng Na remained distracted, drawing frequent disapproving glances from the sharp-featured head maid, who frowned at her in annoyance.

Yet Meng Na couldn't be bothered with others' opinions.

Her gaze kept drifting to the golden characters floating midair, utterly unable to suppress her curiosity.

What was this?

It was like a story only she could read, a secret adventure meant for her alone...

With this thought, a sense of excitement and superiority—of being "special"—sprang up in her heart. She could hardly wait to imitate the protagonists of adventure tales and embark on a wondrous journey!

So, after staying in the room for only a short while, Meng Na took advantage of the other children cleaning and pretending to be well-behaved to slip out alone.

What's so great about being a good kid?

Meng Na thought proudly. In all the legendary stories her mother had told her, none of the protagonists were obedient "good children"!

Since the intangible book had previewed the next chapter as "Manor Mysteries," she should be able to pick up some clues nearby, right?

Could she uncover the truth behind Lady Ernos's murder?

Using her small stature to her advantage, Meng Na crouched low and hid in the dense bushes by the garden, peering through the gaps in the leaves to observe the passing servants.

Strangely, even though this was her first time eavesdropping and spying, Meng Na moved with unnatural ease, instinctively controlling her breathing until she nearly blended into the bushes.

Two maids were sweeping fallen leaves nearby. After working under the scorching sun for a while, they glanced around to ensure no one was watching before huddling together, leaning on their brooms to chat.

"The sun's so strong today. It's almost harvest season—why is it still so hot?"

"Speaking of harvest season, yesterday while cleaning the second-floor hallway, I overheard the Duke arguing with Lord Isildur again about the budget for the season... It was so intense! A 200,000 gold-piece imported vase was smashed to pieces by the furious young lord!"

"Goodness, they're fighting again? How many times is that this month?"

"It's all because of those wandering painters and sculptors! Since the gods and the Church praise beauty and art, the Duke has been sponsoring the Church and those eccentric, destitute artists on the streets with huge sums—people outside suspect the Duke is trying to purchase sainthood, to become a high being serving at the gods' side!"

"But Lord Isildur doesn’t seem to approve."

"Indeed. The young lord believes the money would be better spent building a year-round harbor at the edge of their territory... In my opinion, the young lord is far less devout than his father."

"Honestly, no matter how they spend that fortune, it's more gold than common folk could earn in ten lifetimes of toil! Why can’t the family just share it peacefully?"

Meng Na absorbed every word, summarizing the key points:

1. The Duke and his son, Isildur, seemed to have a strained relationship, with frequent heated arguments in recent months.

2. The Duke was a devout follower of the Nature Sculptor and its Church, allocating vast sums annually to support them.

3. Isildur, however, advocated investing the money in harbor construction to expand overseas trade.

Meng Na's eyes widened with excitement. Though she didn’t yet know how these clues might be useful, she felt she was one step closer to unraveling the mysteries!

The two maids shielded their foreheads from the sun, fanning themselves as they continued chatting idly.

Just as Meng Na’s head began to droop drowsily, she suddenly caught a snippet that piqued her interest—

"By the way," the younger maid asked curiously, "with your seniority, don’t you usually handle indoor chores? That’s much more comfortable—at least you wouldn’t be stuck here toiling under the sun..."

The older maid sighed. "Ah, the Duke is hosting an honored guest today. Before dawn, he ordered everything to be prepared perfectly, then sent all of us out—only the two stewards and six senior maids were kept on standby."

"Wow, even when the Marquis visited last time, he didn’t receive such treatment! Who could this honored guest be?"

The older maid glanced around before lowering her voice. "I caught a glimpse from afar. It seemed to be a black-haired oriental, very handsome, but—but..."

She took a deep breath, her tone trembling with fear. "But his eyes were like a snake’s—narrow, slit pupils! And they were golden, lighter than gold but colder than the blazing sun above us. Just one distant gaze from him made me shiver in terror!"

Wow.

Meng Na marveled silently.

Her instincts told her this was an important figure, so she memorized the description of this "mysterious guest."

In her experience, the closest thing to "mysterious" she’d encountered were the clerics she’d seen during church services with her mother.

Those clerics also wielded powers beyond ordinary comprehension—repairing shattered mirrors in an instant or reforming objects with the Nature Sculptor’s blessings.

But without exception, they looked no different from regular people.

It seemed that, between mystical beings and humans, they were decidedly more human.

So Meng Na could hardly imagine what kind of mysterious, formidable power a guest with golden Snake Eyes might possess.

Watching from afar, Yi Fengchu fell into silence.

After a long pause, he spoke hesitantly, "Uh... doesn’t this description sound... awfully familiar?"

His phone automatically activated its camera, flipping the lens toward him. "Take a look yourself. Ring any bells?"

"No wonder I’ve been sensing an anchor point in the manor that resonates with me..."

"Now it seems that anchor point might be an echo of my past self?"

Yi Fengchu muttered in confusion, "I actually crossed paths with the painting’s reflection before?"

The phone, however, wasn’t surprised. Its tone was matter-of-fact: *You don’t know half of it—long before you became fate, you’d already traveled through the Realm of the Gods and countless worlds for years.*

"It’s hardly strange if your footsteps once overlapped with those of another high being during those long years."

Yi Fengchu understood now. No wonder the river of fate had guided him here.

This journey was clearly the right move—he was eager to see what his past self had done in this world...

Deep in the bushes, Meng Na remained oblivious to Yi Fengchu’s curiosity and anticipation.

Having crouched for too long, she rubbed her numb legs uncomfortably before finally settling back onto her bottom, rustling the bushes loudly.

Luckily, the maids only glanced over casually, failing to notice the child hidden within.

Meng Na planned to sneak away at the first opportunity, but before the maids left, the severe-looking, stern-faced senior maid arrived instead.

Narrowing her eyes, the senior maid scrutinized the two maids suspiciously. "Have you finished your assigned tasks?"

"Y-yes!" The maids nodded frantically, like mice before a cat.

"Then go help out in the kitchen. The Duke wishes no disturbances as he will be showing his esteemed guest around the garden," the housekeeper paused, then added with a cold snort, "...Don’t let me catch you two slacking off again. Think about your monthly wages!"

The two maids hastily gripped their brooms, hunched their shoulders, and hurried off.

Meng Na prayed silently in her heart for the housekeeper to leave quickly as well, so she could slip back to her room. Unfortunately, the housekeeper stopped right in front of the bushes, showing no signs of leaving.

One standing, one sitting—separated only by dense foliage. At their closest, Meng Na could almost clearly see the stitchwork on the hem of the housekeeper’s skirt. She held her breath nervously, her face turning crimson.

...Was she really about to meet the old Duke and that distinguished guest so soon?

Even for a thrilling tale of adventure, wasn’t this pace rather rushed?

Amid her excitement, Meng Na also felt uneasy. Her eyes, strangely luminous, remained fixed on the scene beyond the bushes.

...

"'Prophet,' this way, please."

The current head of the Iris family, Duke Francis, displayed an uncharacteristically deferential demeanor, bowing slightly as he guided his esteemed guest.

On the Duke’s handsome face, time had carved subtle lines of worldly experience. His brown hair, threaded with silver, was neatly combed back, exuding an air of mature dignity.

Yet the one receiving such deference from the Duke was a young man wholly obscure in the empire, appearing no older than twenty-eight.

The "Prophet" had long, jet-black hair as deep as night, falling loosely down. Some strands disappeared beneath his cloak, while others stirred in the breeze against the pure white fabric.

Compared to the lavishly dressed nobles, he wore only an unadorned white cloak over a simple shirt and trousers, looking austere yet elegant.

As the Duke and the "Prophet" approached, Meng Na pressed her lips together and held her breath.

Just as her gaze slowly lifted, trying to get a clear look at the "Prophet’s" face, several slender silver serpents slithered out from beneath his cloak. Their cold, gilded eyes surveyed the surroundings, forked tongues flicking with faint hisses.

"...!"

Meng Na froze. She was certain one of the snakes had met her gaze through the bushes for several seconds...

He had spotted her!

In that instant, she felt the instinctive terror of prey under a predator’s gaze, her body trembling uncontrollably.

"What are you looking at?"

The Duke, noticing the "Prophet’s" lingering gaze toward the bushes, asked curiously.

"I was just admiring how impeccably maintained your garden is—"

Meng Na’s heart nearly stopped from fright as the "Prophet" slowly approached the bushes. He raised a slender silver cane, its gleaming ferrule brushing against the outermost leaves before pausing nearly imperceptibly at the height of Meng Na’s eyes.

Whether or not he saw the child’s terrified expression, he soon withdrew the cane and averted his gaze, adding airily, "The ecosystem is thriving too. Plenty of charming 'wildlings' here."

"You flatter me. All credit goes to the great Nature Sculptor, who blessed us with the creativity to appreciate beauty."

The Duke smiled politely, though skepticism remained in his heart.

Truthfully, he questioned whether this being—who commanded even the King’s deference and whose rank might rival that of divine Apostles—still retained a normal sense of aesthetics to appreciate mortal beauty.

Of course, the Duke wouldn’t voice such skepticism outright, accepting with practiced grace the compliment instead.

It never crossed his mind that the other party had tacitly allowed a servant’s child to hide in the bushes, eavesdropping on their conversation.

After exchanging a few pleasantries, the Duke couldn’t resist turning to his true purpose: "It is said that you possess eyes that pierce the future... Might I have the honor of receiving your prophecy and guidance?"

"Certainly. I never refuse polite and reasonable requests," the "Prophet" replied. "However, seeking prophecies from me is not without cost."

The Duke’s countenance brightened with delight. "Of course! I’d be honored to make a trade—name any boon within the Iris family's means."

"Then, what portent or revelation do you wish to draw from the river of fate?"

The Duke said, "As you can see, my family and lands are mighty and flourishing. But with age, I’ve become troubled that such prosperity may not endure."

"Worldly wealth and power will one day turn to dust. Perhaps a century from now, perhaps within a decade—everything I hold dear will be eroded by time."

"Haunted by these musings, I one day realized: only the occult is eternal. No matter how many dynasties rise and fall, the divine church has stood immutable at the heart of the capital, steeped in the faith of believers and the protection of the gods..."

The "Prophet" gave a soft chuckle. "It seems you earnestly desire to nurture someone within your current influence who can achieve greatness in the occult."

"Precisely," the Duke nodded. "That’s why, even if my family doesn’t understand, I’ve always diverted considerable funds to support gifted artists—hoping one among them might earn the favor of the Nature Sculptor, ascending beyond mortality to become a divine Apostle and a shield for the Iris family."

This aspiration was hardly unusual.

As the "Prophet" knew, the Apostle known as the Floral Saint under the Nature Sculptor was once a wandering painter. Through relentless pursuit of aesthetic perfection, he had won divine grace.

Here, the Duke shook his head ruefully. "Yet I never imagined that the miracle I sought externally had already manifested closest to me—my youngest daughter, Ernos, has drawn the notice of the Natural Hymns Society."

"A bishop revealed that my daughter is endowed with exceptional gifts, both in painting and the occult path."

Despite these honors, the Duke’s expression grew solemn rather than joyful.

The "Prophet" regarded him with quiet contemplation. "You fear your daughter may come to an untimely end on her journey into the occult world?"

"Yes... Forgive a father’s excessive worry for his child."

The Duke sighed. "Can you give me an answer? Will Ernos truly walk this arduous path safely, all the way to the gods?"

The "Prophet" fell silent for a long moment.

Those golden eyes seemed to pierce through worldly veils, perceiving something far more obscure.

Finally, he replied, "She will become a being of great power—powerful, eternal, omnipresent. Her brush will render the hues of all things in this world."

Before the Duke could rejoice, the "Prophet" added enigmatically:

"...But that may not be an auspicious sign."

"What do you mean?"

The "Prophet" elaborated, "In the future I see, your daughter is never alone. Her mother clings like a second shadow, embracing her tightly, accompanying her always..."

At this, the Duke’s face completely stiffened, as if turned to lifeless stone.

Unperturbed, the "Prophet" calmly noted, "Yet as far as I know, you’ve long claimed your wife died of illness, haven’t you?"

"..."

As they spoke, the two gradually walked farther away, their voices fading into the distance.

The housekeeper followed at a respectful distance, standing attentively behind them.

Meng Na remained motionless in the depths of the bushes, her face frozen in stunned silence.

At the moment the "Prophet" parted the foliage with the tip of his cane, she finally saw his face clearly—

Apart from those strange and cold snake eyes, his face felt achingly familiar, as if...

As if she had seen them many times before!

Meng Na kept recalling the Prophet's face, and gradually, it began to transform—younger, more vivid, gentler, the dazzling golden eyes replaced by pitch-black, calm as still water.

...Who... who was this?

Buried memories erupted in her mind, fragments of the past piercing deep into her consciousness, needling her mind with sharp pain. She clutched her head tightly, curling into herself.

Yet alongside the agony came an unprecedented clarity.

"Meng Na"—no, Meng Siyou jolted upright, eyes flying open, struck with the shocking realization:

The "Prophet," whom the old Duke treated with utmost reverence, had Yi Fengchu’s face—down to the last detail!