Chapter 126

Ethan Smith secured the silver mask over his face with slender fingers, his presence instantly becoming unreadable.

Lucy White gave a knowing nod. His identity as an A-list actor couldn’t be exposed—not when they were hunting a ruthless blood mage tonight.

The moment they stepped into the Powell family garden, a bone-chilling draft swept over them. Lucy narrowed her eyes, spotting tendrils of black mist slithering between the flower beds.

"Master Lucy!" Vincent Powell and his mother hurried forward, their gazes flickering uncertainly to the masked man.

"Colleague from the special division," Lucy said briskly.

Ethan gave a curt nod, his voice deliberately lowered. "Standard procedure."

Lucy strode to a corner and dug out two blood-red stones from a flowerpot. Their surfaces were etched with sinister patterns, cold enough to burn at the touch.

"Is this what’s been causing the trouble?" Vincent paled.

"Miasma stones." Lucy wrapped them in talisman paper. "Prolonged exposure drains vital energy."

After clearing every cursed stone from the house, the living room’s temperature finally normalized. Lucy suddenly turned toward the entrance. "No point hiding now."

The doors and windows flew open without wind, flooding the space with icy air. A hunched figure materialized, her wrinkled face framed by greasy gray hair.

"You?!" Irene Powell shot to her feet, nails digging into her palms.

Lucy’s sharp eyes caught the tangled threads of fate between the two women. "You know each other?"

"Know her?" Irene’s voice shook. "Her name is Mei Zhao. She was my father’s—"

"Lover?" The crone let out a shrill laugh. "That faithless bastard Liam Parker deserved worse!"

Her skeletal finger jabbed at the family portrait. "If he hadn’t rejected me, I wouldn’t have married that monster!" Her sleeve slipped, revealing grotesque scars along her wrist.

Lucy’s pupils constricted. The scars formed an occult sigil—a sacrificial mark.

"So you used blood magic to kill the Powells?"

"They deserved it!" Mei Zhao’s eyes turned bloodshot. "Liam would rather die than acknowledge me. I’ll wipe out his entire bloodline!"

She yanked her collar down, exposing a crimson curse mark over her collarbone. Lucy’s face darkened—a death hex sealed with kin blood.

"You sacrificed your own child?"

"It was dying anyway." The old woman cackled wildly. "Better to use it for vengeance!"

A gale howled through the room, chandeliers swinging violently. Lucy flung out talismans, her voice sharp. "You’ve taken more than four lives!"

"Of course." The crone licked her lips. "Practice makes perfect." She ripped open her coat, revealing a lining stitched with countless knotted strands of hair.

Each knot represented a murdered soul.