Chapter 271: The Power of the Bear

The dim yellow candlelight flickered faintly, phantom shadows appearing and vanishing; two incomplete corpses, lacking only their lower halves, slowly crawled between layers of bookshelves, traversing the rotting, damp library, then exited through the door, as if the red-haired man who had just died behind it had never existed.

The ghost is gone.

With the light gone, the library door returned to its sealed state, but Gai Zha, who had died behind it, was nowhere to be found—not even a corpse remained.

This is one of the rules of Vanessa Castle: those killed by ghosts are assimilated into something akin to ghosts themselves.

"Give me a boost—help me up," Ning Zhe said, turning his head.

Bai Zhi nodded, crouched down; Ning Zhe held the corpse-oil lamp in one hand and gripped the windowsill with the other, stepping his booted foot onto the golden-haired girl's shoulders, while Bai Zhi pressed both hands against the wall and slowly rose.

Using the leverage, Ning Zhe climbed onto the window, peeled back a corner of the lamp's leather cover; under the light, the stained-glass window appeared damp and rotten, the rusted hinges kicked open, the entire frame fell to the floor, shards of glass embedding themselves into the carpet as cold air rushed in through the wide-open window.

Ning Zhe climbed into the library and opened the window from the inside—the same window that had magically repaired itself after the light vanished.

Looking back, the library door remained firmly shut; for now, it was safe. Ning Zhe tore off the pale purple curtain edged with platinum lace, rolled it up quickly into a rope, and pulled up Bai Zhi, who was shivering violently on the eaves outside.

"Thanks," Ning Zhe said, gripping Bai Zhi's wrist and hauling her onto the windowsill: "I'd have struggled terribly to climb up without your help."

"No, no need to thank me… I'm just glad I could help," Bai Zhi shook her head, clutching her nose and mouth, sneezed sharply—her tip reddened.

Kachya's frame was already slender, and the girl, fond of beauty, wore thin clothing; after being exposed to the cold wind for so long, she had caught a chill.

Ning Zhe folded the curtain in half and draped it over her like a cloak: "Wrap it tight—don't catch a worse chill. It'll get colder soon."

He walked past the bookshelves to the desk against the wall, where a straight cross-sword entwined with feather-like patterns and a metal shield engraved with a golden iris crest hung— the family crest of the Freimisret family.

Ning Zhe stood on the desk and took down the sword and shield; the blade was unsharpened, the shield's back lacked leather straps for arm grip—clearly a decorative piece, not functional, but better than nothing.

He placed the corpse-oil lamp on the floor, peeled back a corner of its cover; under the light, the wooden floor appeared aged, the later-applied wall paint faded, and a faint crack appeared where the wall met the floor.

Ning Zhe gripped the sword hilt, inserted the intricately patterned, artful blade into the crack, used the shield beneath as a fulcrum, and stomped hard on the hilt; the grinding sound of turning gears echoed from within the wall, the heavy structure lifted slightly, the narrow crack widening abruptly.

Creak… creak…

Seeing the blade about to snap under the wall's weight, Bai Zhi quickly grabbed two thick books from beside the desk and shoved them into the crack, bracing the wall before it could resume its descent.

"Almost…" Bai Zhi exhaled in relief, a small smile forming: "Good thing I made it in time."

"Thanks," Ning Zhe smiled, saying nothing more.

To quickly draw closer to someone, it's better to ask for their help than to offer yours—showing a "I need you" posture of humility. The request mustn't be too difficult; sincere gratitude provides emotional value and quietly dissolves barriers.

Few people dislike feeling needed, and Bai Zhi was no exception; some even proactively help others without being asked, simply to experience that sense of being needed.

Just like Bai Zhi just now. "I'm going to lift this wall a bit higher—can you bring over that chair?" Ning Zhe asked.

"Sure," Bai Zhi nodded promptly.

Ning Zhe crouched, gripping the lower edge of the wall, straining to lift it. Auror's physical strength was decent for a woman, but still Buji an average adult man; after lifting the wall for only a few seconds, his arms began trembling under the strain.

Fortunately, Bai Zhi slid the chair into place just in time, preventing the wall from falling further; a square opening about seventy centimeters high now appeared before them, cold and deep.

Both crouched low, peering into the opening: inside the wall lay a straight stone staircase, the corridor so narrow only one person could pass, its end blocked by a closed wooden door.

That was the entrance to the lord's bedroom.

"Well hidden."

Clearly, Duke Vanessa feared death deeply. Ning Zhe picked up the decorative sword, lifted the corpse-oil lamp, bent low, and crawled into the opening, entering the corridor.

Without seeing the blueprints, outsiders would never find this secret passage.

Bai Zhi, wrapped in the curtain, followed Ning Zhe into the tunnel, then kicked the chair jamming the mechanism— the heavy wall crashed down, returning to its original state.

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Safe.

One hand holding the lamp, the other gripping the sword, the two climbed the stairs one after the other, reaching the door. As they ascended, the chill clinging to them deepened; Bai Zhi pulled the curtain tighter around herself, her breath forming frost.

Using the corpse-oil lamp's light, they opened the door and entered the bedroom; a rich scent washed over them—the incense burning beside the fireplace, the logs crackling within.

Ning Zhe walked to the fireplace and examined it; only a thin layer of ash had accumulated, indicating the fire had been lit recently.

But "recently" upstairs meant who knew how long ago downstairs.

Bai Zhi crouched beside Ning Zhe, holding her frozen hands before the fire, asking curiously: "This place… it feels like someone was here just a short while ago."

Ning Zhe silently walked to the side table, touched the teaware still steaming—hot to the touch.

"The tea's still hot, but the person who brewed it is gone," Ning Zhe said, then walked to the bedside, took down a bear-skin coat hanging from the antler rack—the thick fur heavy in his hands: "Come, put this on—it'll warm you up."

"What about you?" Bai Zhi untied the curtain, letting Ning Zhe drape the heavy bear pelt over her slender frame.

It was the complete hide of an adult brown bear, not a single arrow wound or bullet hole, even the head intact—a fluffy, oversized hat resting on the girl's head, the two bear ears drooping like those of a giant, brown-eared folded-cat.

(End of Chapter)