Unable to repay my student loans, I had no choice but to work part-time as a demon hunter.

The following morning, Gordon, Charlotte, and Vera went to the Golden Oak Estate for a site visit.

It wasn't far from the city, situated on a small hillside, flanked by beech trees, with Lundnium puffing out coal smoke behind them.

"We've arrived." Charlotte looked up.

Golden Oak Estate.

It was bigger than Gordon had imagined, and more dilapidated than he had envisioned.

The manor's stone walls stood tall, and the gate was rusted. The main building had only two stories, with several sections of the roof collapsed, and vines climbed all over the stone walls. The windows were boarded up, the fountain in the front yard had dried up, and the pool was piled high with fallen leaves.

On both sides and behind are stables, granaries, servants' quarters, and abandoned vegetable gardens. In the past, this place was self-sufficient, but now everything is empty, and only nettles are growing enthusiastically in the vegetable gardens.

Gordon looked around and nodded in satisfaction.

Very good.

Quiet, secluded, with few neighbors, it met all his needs.

If a ceremony is held here, it will hardly be disturbed.

Of course, according to his understanding of destiny, the quieter a place seems, the more likely it is to be attacked in the end.

"How is it?" Gordon asked Vera.

Vera glanced around, nodded to Gordon, and approved of the place.

A horse-drawn carriage can reach it, stone walls provide defense, and the nearest houses are ten miles away.

Charlotte stood in front of the door.

“The gate wasn’t this small before,” Charlotte gestured. “It used to feel so big to me. Every time a carriage came in, I felt like I was going to have to go through a city gate.”

When we were kids, everything seemed big.

"Yes," Charlotte chuckled softly. "I used to think it would take a long time to walk from the door to my mother's room. There was a super long corridor in between, and if my father was in his study, it was best to take a longer route, as he would ask me about my homework, and I could never answer the questions."

Charlotte inserted the key into the lock, but the lock was stiff.

Vera and Gordon both reached out, but she shook her head and pressed down with a determined effort, turning the key all the way to the end.

Click.

The rusty lock was defeated.

  

The manor gates opened.

Wild grass swallowed everything, leaving only the outline of the gravel road, and the wind blew through the empty windows.

Charlotte compared it to the house she remembered, making sure she hadn't gone to the wrong place, before stepping inside.

She led Gordon and Vera through the forecourt into the hall, where brass chandeliers hung overhead and a spiral staircase led to the second floor, its handles carved with oak leaves and irises.

There is a full-length mirror on the right-hand side when you enter.

As Charlotte passed by, she naturally stopped in front of the mirror to observe herself.

Compared to when she was thirteen, she has grown much taller, with neat blond hair, a composed expression, and looks more like her mother.

"What kind of person was the Countess of Montfort in the past?"

"A little taller and better looking than me," Charlotte recalled. "Kind and gentle, caring about everyone's food, clothing, shelter, and transportation, and concerned about my father's health. My father had more smiles on his face back then. Unlike now, when he only likes to talk, do accounts, and keep track of time with his pocket watch."

Is she strict with you?

"I am not allowed to ride a fast horse, I am not allowed to climb onto the roof, I am not allowed to steal desserts from the kitchen, and I am not allowed to look around when I pray."

"It seems your beauty and elegance are inherited from that great lady," Gordon nodded.

"That's right." Charlotte's expression was gentle. "...She never let me run around, especially worried that I would sneak into the wine cellar or the chapel."

Vera was not part of their recollection.

She walked silently through the entire manor, checking all the materials that would be used in the attack and defense.

Half an hour later, they met up on the grassy slope behind the manor.

Here you can overlook the backyard of the manor, with rolling woodlands in the distance, a beautiful view.

Charlotte used to picnic here often as a child, and she remembers her mother making her sandwiches, hot tea, and desserts. Now that the blankets and teacups are gone, the three of them simply sit on the ground.

"What were the results of the field investigation?" Charlotte asked.

"It's a great place for experiments, but there are risks involved; it might attract fishmen. However, I'll do everything I can to minimize those risks," Gordon promised.

"...Since we're talking about risks, I also have something I'd like to show you."

She took out the source card.

"This is..." Gordon observed carefully. The card was covered with faint spiritual samples, revealing some external reactions of the source substance.

“Gorden,” she said solemnly, “my father also hopes I will enter the incredible…extraordinary world. Perhaps you can help me see something. Didn’t you study Source Natural History with Professor Winslow? You should be able to say something. The exchange’s report is over a hundred pages long, and the conclusion is still unclear.”

As she spoke, Charlotte unconsciously tightened her grip on the card.

This request for authentication is, in effect, entrusting her future to Gordon.

Gordon was the smartest and most insightful person she knew, and she really hoped to get his help.

"I'm not sure what I'll see," Gordon said seriously, "but I'm willing to watch carefully."

"I believe you," Charlotte nodded.

The card has three spiritual colors, which appear as a blurry glow to ordinary people.

But before Gordon, they all shone brightly, awakening from their slumber and revealing their true power.

The first color presents a strange golden-white, like a giant eye.

[The imprint of a gaze. A promise of perfection universally acknowledged.]

"This thing makes me feel like there's a giant eye watching me," Charlotte said softly.

"It is indeed related to the gaze. Do you want to be the most perfect beauty in Lundnim? It represents a captivating sexuality."

"That sounds interesting," Charlotte said thoughtfully.

The second color presents a strong and heavy texture.

The mark of a crown. Willpower will become weight, and words will corrupt the spirit.

"This thing makes me feel a lot of pressure," Charlotte said, pressing her temples.

"It makes every word you say carry a lot of weight, and I feel it too; it's a dominant aspect of human nature."

"Father would like this," Charlotte said.

"You will too."

"Do I usually like to give orders?" Charlotte complained.

Gordon and Vera both looked at her; their testimonies could be formed without collusion.

"...Okay, next." Charlotte maintained her smile.

The third color presents a dark and unpredictable texture.

[The marks of darkness. Adapt, change, and you will have a thousand faces, able to go wherever you want.]

"This thing terrifies me," Charlotte said.

"Yes, there is something to be afraid of. It is a changeable sexuality; you can wrap yourself in countless faces."

"..." Charlotte subconsciously touched her face. She was quite satisfied with her face, although she didn't know why Gordon preferred to look at her feet rather than her face.

"Simply put, none of these three source qualities are as simple as they seem. Based on my understanding of source quality natural history, the first source quality will make the world worship you, the second source quality will make the world obey you, and the third source quality will make the world never recognize you."

in short……

Charlotte, the beauty that could topple kingdoms; Charlotte, the demon who reigns supreme; Charlotte, the master of all transformations. Even Gordon couldn't tell which was more powerful.

After listening to Gordon's words, Charlotte became serious.

"...Hundreds of pages of expert reports, none of them can explain it as clearly as your single sentence."

"After all, I am Winslow's student."

"Your esteemed disciple, Gao Deng, do you charge an appraisal fee?"

"I won't accept it this time. After all, I still need the great Miss Monford's help to lend me this estate."

Charlotte paused, put the card away, and thought of a more important question than the authentication itself.

"...If it were you, which source material would you prefer me to use?" she asked, very curious.

"When I see the source material, I will see it more clearly, but I will still only explain it to you, not help you choose."

"Can't you just give a simple answer?"

"The process of refinement is irreversible, and you are the one who bears the consequences. To choose your destiny for you... that's too arrogant, even I can't do it."

"Yes..." Charlotte liked it when Gordon said that.

She made the decision herself.

"Actually, all three sources are very suitable for you. You are not lacking in people who like you, nor in the ability to command others, and you have all sorts of different faces."

"What do you mean by 'different faces'?" Charlotte kicked Gordon's shin.

"Look, look!" Gordon jumped back.

Charlotte was very happy.

She didn't get a simple answer, but she felt even more relieved than if she had received one.

Gordon pointed out the most enticing promises of each path to her, and made it clear that the choice was hers.

"Gordon," Charlotte nodded, "On my birthday, the real Source will arrive. You must be there; you can't break your promise."

"Of course, I'll also help you concoct medicine," Gordon nodded.

Thinking of such a significant matter as the Source, Charlotte led them to pray, hoping to receive some divine grace.

The chapel is located on the west side of the main building. It is not large, and a corner of its spire has collapsed. Inside is a statue of St. John.

Saint John is a hero of mankind.

He wore a white robe and a thorn-covered hat. His muscles were exaggeratedly muscular. He stood barefoot on a stone platform, one hand pounded on his chest, the other pointing to the sky. His face was resolute yet compassionate, as if he had just helped humanity defeat a monster and was preparing to tear apart the next demon.

"Why is it like this?" Vera mimicked St. John's gesture, striking a pose with one hand on her chest and the other pointing to the sky.

"Salvation comes from above, humanity remains in the chest." Charlotte recalled her mother's words, "...When I was little, my mother brought me here, and I would sometimes play hide-and-seek with her here."

"Who's winning?"

"I could never find her. Once, she told me to count to fifty, and when I counted to ten I would go look for her, but I couldn't find her anywhere."

"Did she hide inside?"

"I don't know. Then she suddenly appeared behind me and asked me why I hadn't counted to fifty, which startled me."

"That does sound scary, doesn't it?"

"Mom was really good at this. When I was little, I thought she could turn invisible." Charlotte pointed to the wall behind the statue. "...I was standing right here when Mom suddenly appeared behind me, even though there was only this wall behind me."

Gordon couldn't help but walk over.

This wall is remarkably well-preserved.

"Yes...that's interesting."

"Right?" Charlotte looked at it.

Gordon tapped the object lightly with his Blackthorn Lee cane.

thump.

The senses penetrated and reflected back, constructing a beautiful model of the room in his mind.

Behind the statue of St. John Sua lies a hidden world.

"Mrs. Monford probably won't hide," Gordon explained.

"How did she do that?" Charlotte asked curiously.

Gordon fumbled around for a moment, found the hidden door mechanism on the wall, and gently turned it.

Without a sound, a stone slab suddenly slid open, revealing an exquisite room inside.

Charlotte's mouth gaped open.

"Mind your manners," Gordon reminded him.

"My mother...hid a...secret chamber...behind Saint Joshua!" Charlotte murmured.

"I'll go in and take a look." Vera drew her sword and entered through the hidden door.

Her voice came through again a few seconds later.

"Safety."

The three entered one by one.

The room was small but well-organized.

There was only a table, an empty box, a few deer heads, bear heads, and a small number of demon heads.

[The leader of the beautiful demons. Her death was as serene and beautiful as an autumn leaf.]

[The leader of the Flying Dragon Demons. Dragons have been rarely seen these days.]

[Ammunition box. It once contained a more direct solution than prayer.]

Charlotte looked at the heads of monsters and beasts on the wall.

"This is... the collection room?" Charlotte's eyes widened.

"The hunter's collection room." Vera observed carefully. "There are bullet molds, a balance for weighing gunpowder, unused cardboard boxes, complete gun maintenance tools, and someone has been manually loading gunpowder here for a long time."

"It belongs to my father," Charlotte said instinctively.

"Your father uses this kind of gun?" Vera walked to the far end of the room.

A... was hanging on the wall.

Double-barreled shotgun.

The gun barrel was thick and extremely brutal; the designer never intended for the target to be left with a complete corpse.

The gun body is ivory white, with only faint gold patterns on the trigger guard, stock, and barrel.

Violent, elegant. And it exudes a ghostly glow.

A double-barreled shotgun imbued with a spirit. Head bowed.

Charlotte carefully picked up the gun and noticed that a golden iris, her mother's family crest, was etched on its corner.

"...Saint Joshua..." Charlotte didn't know whether to pray or marvel.

Gordon carefully examined the plaque beneath the trophy.

The most recent hunt was in 3E332, 23 years ago, and the hunter's name was written as...

Hélène de Rohan, the Countess of Montfort's name before her marriage.

Charlotte also came to see.

Nameplates, monster heads on the wall, and double-barreled shotguns.

She couldn't imagine it.

My mother used to come here alone to pray. After she finished praying, she would push open the hidden door behind the sacred place, wipe her hunting rifle, and personally pour gunpowder and lead bullets into the paper tube, and at some point, she would smash the monster into mincemeat.

"It seems she stopped hunting after getting married. At least there are no later records," Gordon observed.

"Another one of those things that 'nobody wants to tell me,'" Charlotte thought, already used to it.

A very large and extremely violent gun, and several monster heads.

If it weren't for Gordon, she probably would never have known in her entire life.

"Her temper is probably not as mild as you think," Vera said.

Why?

"Once this thing is fired, a person and everything behind him will be reduced to ashes."

Vera pointed to the large-caliber double-barreled shotgun in Charlotte's hand, one of the most brutal weapons she had ever seen.

Charlotte held it in her hands and examined it carefully.

His movements were clumsy, but his eyes grew brighter and brighter.

"After maintenance, it should still be usable," she suddenly said.

"You want to use it?" Gordon had a bad feeling.

"Of course. You're the one who taught me to learn so much!" Charlotte said, carrying her gun and walking briskly outside.

That's it. Gordon walked forward.

I feel like I can't tease her anymore. Now her skill set includes not only headbutts, kicks, and elbow strikes, but also close-range shooting.