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

"There's something else I'm curious about," Vera surprisingly spoke up, "The most annoying thing about water monkeys is that they can emerge from all sorts of unexpected places. Why is that?"

"Because their hands are more developed than their legs, unlike ours," Gordon said.

He turned over the palm bone of a Deepclaw Demon; in the candlelight, the hand looked like an old rake soaked in mud.

"Look," Gordon pointed with the tip of his knife, "their finger bones are long, their webs are thick and elastic, and their wrist ligaments are exceptionally well-developed. In the water, they dig and stretch out their arms to catch fish; on land, they grab walls, pry open brick seams, and grip pipe walls. They essentially move using their forelimbs, which makes them faster than running on flat ground. And their bones are very soft, so they can squeeze into narrower spaces..."

His voice was steady and full of convincing academic power.

Vera crossed her arms over her chest.

This was unusual for her. Usually, by the time someone finished their third sentence, she would already be judging whether they could be knocked unconscious with a single sword strike to avoid wasting each other's lives. But these words gave her a lot of inspiration, and she couldn't bear to interrupt.

She remembered the cellar's drainage ditch, the collapsed cave, the cracks in the walls...

She used to only remember water monkeys suddenly appearing, and all she could do was curse them in her heart, "What kind of creatures are they, only good at tricking people?" Now everything has a reason, and the danger has taken shape.

Vera remembered these things. The next time she received a similar request, she would bleed less.

"So, why are they going into the ancestral home?" Vera asked the core question.

"They didn't crawl in," Gordon said. "They were probably... summoned in."

"Mr. Gordon, you'd better watch your words," Evans finally said.

“I’ve been very careful,” Gordon said, putting down his knife. “If I hadn’t been careful, I’d be saying this house is having a party and all the Deepclaws in Lundnim have been invited.”

Evans' eye twitched violently.

  This book was first published on ReadGoodBooks101 reading website, 200lu.com, providing you with a worry-free reading experience with error-free and disordered chapters.

"Deepclaws are extremely selfish creatures, rarely cooperating, because there are simply no enemies in the Blackwater River that require their combined hunting, so they always live in seclusion." Gordon's tone gradually turned cold. "When two Deepclaws see a corpse at the same time, they usually fight first, then decide who gets to eat. But tonight, so many Deepclaws have defied their biological instincts, swarming into this place in droves..."

"What are you hiding in your house that would make a bunch of water monkeys skip meals to climb in?" Vera asked bluntly.

Vera couldn't understand the premise of not eating, in particular. In her simple value system, there were usually only three things that could make a creature give up eating: being close to death, being hunted, or having poison in its food. If there was a fourth, then it was worth digging into and investigating.

Evans froze, his lips trembling, but he didn't answer immediately.

As the steward of a large family, protecting the family's secrets is more important than protecting one's own life.

"Don't worry," Gordon said, "I only read things related to water, rivers, fish, navigation, and the Blackwater. I don't read anything related to lovers, bills, letters, monarchy, parliament, or colonies."

Guan Chang sighed and finally lowered his head.

"Fine, I'll take you there."

The collection room in the Montfort family home is located deep on the second floor.

The heavy oak double doors were slowly pushed open.

Gordon caught a peculiar scent, a mixture of sandalwood, sealing wax, and desiccant. This was the heritage of old aristocracy; even the air seemed to hold the scent of gold pounds.

The glass case displays a variety of family collections: diamonds, smoothbore guns, busts, Impressionist masterpieces...

"Anything in this house could cost us our lives," Gordon finally blurted out.

Upon hearing this, even though Evans was just an employee, he proudly puffed out his chest.

In contrast, Vera had no interest in these priceless treasures that would drive thieves mad.

Diamonds can't be eaten. Pocket watches can't be used to attack monsters. Busts can be used to smash people, but they're too heavy and slow.

She walked silently like a cat, one hand always gripping the hilt of her black longsword, her grey eyes only concerned with whether anything in the rubble might suddenly jump up and bite.

As they walked further into the cabinet, aside from obviously valuable items like gold and diamonds, the collectibles began to align more closely with their personal aesthetic preferences.

[A dried rose. Next to it is written: 3E293, Lu Ming.]

[An old rum glass. The person drinking it simply said, "I'm going to buy an orange; don't move from here," and never returned.]

[An old-fashioned nautical chart, marked with non-existent islands and three misspelled ports.]

[Mini Duel Pistol. A tool to challenge and humiliate squirrels.]

The silverfish boxes were damp and looked like they'd just been pulled from the Blackwater River.

...Gordon stopped in his tracks.

Inside the glass case was an inconspicuous box, similar in shape to the caskets used in churches to store the remains of saints.

It is silver, with a glass-like fish relief, and the edges emit a blue light. It is about half the length of a palm and has an antique design.

The fish in the relief is depicted with fine scales, its tail slightly curled up, as if it's about to dive into the water at any moment. It's placed on a piece of black velvet, next to a yellowed label.

"Purchased in Blair Barrel area in 3E335." Bought twenty years ago.

Gordon stared intently at it, as if countless threads were threading through the walls, the floor, and the air, binding the box to it.

The fish relief on the surface of the casket is wet.

A drop of water slowly slid down the fish's back, hanging on the edge of its belly, seemingly resisting gravity and refusing to fall; meanwhile, new water seeped silently from the top of the box...

It was as if a living lung was hidden in a box, breathing extremely slowly, pushing the water droplets to expand slowly, teetering on the velvet cushion below.

Charlotte followed behind and noticed his pause.

"Is this it?" she asked.

"If an antique sweats, it's either too stressed or it shouldn't be in an antique cabinet," Gordon said.

"That's impossible. It's just a box that's been in the collection room for twenty years and has never had any problems," Evans retorted.

"Many problems are said to be non-problematic before they occur."

"You..." Evans wanted to say something more.

Vera suddenly looked up.

"The thing beneath my feet... it's become even more agitated," she said hoarsely.

From the moment they entered the storage room, the dull thuds from underground intensified.

The creatures below the house were enraged at the same time; the thing they had been tracking for days was now surrounded by a group of humans.

“We have to check it,” Gordon said, looking at Evans. “And I have a very subtle way of checking it. I open the cabinet, but I don’t touch the box.”

Evans broke out in a cold sweat. After hesitating for a moment, he took out his key and unlocked the cabinet.

Gordon did not touch the Holy Grail directly.

He carefully pinched the edge and slowly pulled out the palm-sized black velvet cushion that held the casket.

The velvet itself was quite ordinary, except that it was soaked with water dripping from the casket.

"Let's go," Gordon said.

"Where to?"

"Outside. By the river."

……

The Montfort family home is located on the banks of the Blackwater River. The people who built it liked the river view, the dock, the private boat dock, and the convenience of being able to bring wine barrels, antiques, and smuggled goods directly into the house.

The group passed through the side gate and arrived at the riverbank.

The night was deep.

Looking down, all you can see is moonlight, thick fog, and broken lights, then a layer of colorful industrial oil film, and finally the Blackwater River flowing quietly.

A breeze rose from the water, ruffling Charlotte's golden hair. She instinctively pulled her cloak tighter, remaining silent. Born beside this river, it felt utterly foreign to her for the first time.

Gordon stood on the riverbank, holding the piece of black velvet in his hand.

"Mr. Gordon, if your speculation tonight is just an alarmist misunderstanding—" Evans stood behind.

"At most, we'll lose a rag used for padding things." Gordon said without turning his head. "I think with the Earl's wealth, he shouldn't go bankrupt. At worst, he can sell that set of cutlery worth half the medical school."

Before he finished speaking, Gordon raised his hand and threw the piece of velvet away forcefully.

The velvet fluttered in the night wind, like a reluctant moth, slowly drifting towards the Blackwater River.

It hit the water surface.

There was no sound; it just floated.

one second.

two seconds.

--Sudden!

The river surface began to move, and Gordon felt that he had thrown in not just a piece of velvet, but a bomb, completely changing its shape.