When the car reached the foot of a mountain in Crestwood, it was already past two in the midnight. By this ti, the temperature in Crestwood was quite low, and the mont Vincent Vance stepped out of the car, he instinctively felt a chill rise from his feet, causing him to pause and sink in thought.
An incredibly bad premonition swept over him instantly, prompting him to hold May Morgan tightly in his arms and softly ask Jacob Jennings beside him, "Jacob, how much do you know about this Mr. Drake?"
Jacob Jennings was a cautious person as well. This old man was soone he had arduously inquired about. Before eting him, Jacob had people from Director Lawson’s office pull records; everything about this elder was listed in detail. It was only after having contact with this old man for so ti that Jacob dared to introduce him to Vincent Vance, fearing another situation like that with Mr. Landry.
"The problem shouldn’t be significant. I probed this person before and found nothing amiss, also asked his neighbors, and they’ve said no anomalies have occurred recently."
"Alright, caution in all matters then."
Trying hard to suppress the unsettling feeling, Vincent Vance held May Morgan closer, turned, and got out of the car with Jacob Jennings and the others, heading straight for the sowhat dilapidated courtyard.
Mr. Drake arrived first at the small courtyard, which wasn’t locked. He gently pushed, swinging the dark wooden door open with ease.
The small courtyard was not large but clean and tidy. Upon entering, one imdiately felt a sense of tilessness, giving Vincent Vance holding May Morgan a bizarre feeling he couldn’t quite pinpoint.
Though the courtyard was ordinary, the flowers and plants were unmistakably real, as were the house and the tiles underfoot—clear and tangible. Yet, why did he feel worried, concerned this might be a deception?
"Young Master Vance, my humble dwelling is quite old; could you manage for now? Perhaps you’ll seek a hotel tomorrow once your wife’s condition stabilizes?"
Seeing Mr. Drake so courteous, Vincent Vance decided not to remain tense and smiled as he replied, "You’re thoughtful, Mr. Drake. As long as the insect can be cured from May’s body, I would endure any hardship."
As Mr. Drake led everyone further into the courtyard, he wondered aloud to Vincent Vance, "It appears, Young Master Vance, that you have deep affection for your wife, right?"
Hearing this, Vincent couldn’t help but glance at May Morgan and murmured, "She’s the woman I would trade my life for."
With deep gaze, Mr. Drake looked at Vincent Vance and whispered, "To be cherished like this, she must be very fortunate..."
Just as he spoke, May Morgan suddenly coughed, and within monts, a mouthful of fresh blood spewed forth.
The blood sprayed onto the ground’s flora, scorching the vibrant plants and leaving nothing behind.
Faced with this horrifying scene, Mr. Drake’s expression turned grave: "Young Master Vance, Miss Morgan’s body may not endure through the night!"
"What?" Hearing this, Vincent Vance’s face paled in panic. He urgently turned to Mr. Drake, his voice tinged with frantic plea, "Mr. Drake, didn’t you say there’s a way?"
"I have a thod, but it can only suppress the Dragon Insect’s force within her, not completely eradicate it... Nonetheless, co inside; I will find a way to aid Miss Morgan."
Mr. Drake sighed solemnly, pushed open his ho’s door earnestly.
The house was designed in a courtyard layout, with four rooms in the north, south, east, and west, all interconnected.
Though the rooms’ furniture was sowhat old, it remained exquisite, and the room was impressively clean and tidy, offering a comfortable feel.
"Young Master Vance, I’ve already concocted the potion for Miss Morgan, it’s in this large barrel in the room; do you think we should place her in it now?"
Leading Vincent Vance into the west room that appeared like a bedroom, Mr. Drake pointed to a giant wooden barrel inside.
Cradling May Morgan before the wooden barrel, Vincent glanced inside; nearly half-filled with black potion, wisps of steam floated above, indicating it was freshly brewed.
The potion emitted a peculiar fragrance, not overpowering, yet pleasant to sll.
Gazing at the dark potion, Vincent Vance couldn’t help but hesitantly ask Mr. Drake, "Can you assure these potions are without issue?"
Seeing Vincent’s doubt, Mr. Drake imdiately rolled up his sleeves, subrged his arm into the solution for over a minute, then presented it to Vincent Vance.
"Look, Young Master, if these potions were toxic, I’d already be poisoned to death!"
Displeased with Vincent’s excessive caution, Mr. Drake’s tone held so irritability as he showcased his hand to Vincent Vance.
Lowering his head, Vincent Vance observed Mr. Drake’s hand indeed appeared normal, finally embarrassedly addressing him, "I apologize, Mr. Drake. I’m just overly cautious."
With deep-set eyes, Mr. Drake smiled lightly, "Understandable, as she’s your beloved after all."
After everyone exited the room, Vincent Vance then bent down to place May Morgan on the large bed beside, once again rests his hand in the barrel’s potion to test it. Erging within, Vincent felt blood almost cooling, as this chill seed to seep from head to toe, irresistible shivers followed.
This potion’s cold was not simply superficial freezing, but penetrating into the bloodstream. Experiencing the efficacy, Vincent Vance had every reason to believe this dicine, certainly effective.
Feeling reassured all seed well, Vincent Vance then undressed May Morgan, leaving only her undergarnts, and slowly eased her into the large wooden barrel.
Once imrsed in the potion, May Morgan’s forrly pale complexion finally restored so blush, possibly due to discomfort from the potion, she couldn’t resist frowning and softly groaning.
Fearing so mishap might occur to May, Vincent Vance pulled a chair, unblinkingly watching her in the barrel.
Yet, just as he sat down, sharp pain suddenly assaulted his back wound. Gripping his shoulder, trying to mitigate the hurt, but the injury felt as if flesh being carved alive, pain so severe, he couldn’t help but cry out.
Upon hearing the cry from the bedroom, Jacob Jennings swiftly entered, observing Vincent’s expression twisted in pain clutching his shoulder, hurriedly checking his injury.
Vincent’s back wound was caused by an old woman assault; initially unnoticed any unusual symptom; doctors hence treated it as a regular wound, suturing accordingly. Focused on May’s life-or-death, Vincent didn’t consider it important.
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