Chapter 4: The Curse

Words : 2412 Updated : Aug 14th, 2025

Twenty minutes later, the car eased through the gates of the Dixon family's manor. Ramon Hahn stepped out with Molly Hahn in his arms. She tipped her head back, staring up at the massive estate, and whispered, "Wow, what a huge house." Huxley Dixon hurried Ramon inside. They strode through shadowed corridors straight to the second floor. The moment they crossed into the main hall, a dozen assessing, hostile gazes snapped onto them. "Huxley, have you settled your marriage yet?" A well-dressed middle-aged man raised his voice, the mockery plain. Huxley hesitated, embarrassment flashing over his face. He caught himself and pushed Ramon forward. "Second Uncle, the marriage can wait. I found a way. This is Master Ramon Hahn. With him here, he can save Grandfather." His words hung in the air as people exchanged looks, their expressions strange, laughter barely contained. "More nonsense. Huxley, you never learn," the middle-aged man said. He was Nathaniel Dixon, the acting head of the family. After his own father died, Nathaniel ranked just below the old patriarch in authority. He had kept Huxley under his thumb and now meant to use this to drive him out for good. Before Huxley could answer, Kane Dixon stepped in, his lip curled and eyes full of disdain. "Great choice, Cousin. The top masters all failed, and you brought a beggar to cure Grandfather? You got scammed, huh?" He flicked a hand toward the door. Several bodyguards stormed in and surrounded Ramon, bristling with menace. "Throw this fraud out," Kane said coldly. Knuckles cracked, boots shifted. They were about to move. "Wait!" Huxley planted himself in front of Ramon, anger and urgency sharpening his voice. "Don't you want Grandfather to get better?" Faces in the room tightened. Nathaniel and Kane traded a glance, clearly wavering. After a beat, Nathaniel gestured for the guards to stand down. Kane kept pressing. "You call him a master? If he makes Grandfather worse, who takes the blame?" The relatives piled on at once, voices clashing. "That's right. If something happens, how will you answer for it?" "Look who you dragged in. He looks like a beggar. Just having him here is throwing off the Dixon estate's geomancy." "If the old man is harmed, Ramon does not leave, and you, Huxley, will be held to account too!" The pressure in the hall built until it felt suffocating. Nearly everyone pointed their anger at Huxley. Ramon watched with a cool expression, a trace of scorn in his eyes. "If treating him means putting my life on the line, I'm out," he said suddenly. He gathered Molly against his chest and turned to go. "Wait!" Huxley yanked him back, then strode to face the crowd, jaw tight. "I will bear all the risk. Ramon, do what you must. If you cannot cure Grandfather, I will leave the Dixon family and never return." The vow hit like a slap. A ripple of shock went through the hall, and even Ramon glanced over, reassessing him. Nathaniel's face did not flicker. "Since you insist, let him try." Ignoring the rest, Huxley led Ramon through a door into Robert Dixon's bedroom. The room was spacious and opulent. Robert lay on the bed, stick-thin and waxen, his breathing barely there. Ramon approached, frowning. The old man's face was sallow, his body wasted to the bone, as if mummified, kept alive by only the frailest thread. The illness was far more complicated than he had expected. At the bedside, a robed middle-aged man was performing acupuncture. "Ramon, this is Wilson, a renowned physician in Chicia," Huxley murmured. "He's been using silver needles for the past few days to keep Grandfather alive." Ramon nodded without comment. Wilson glanced back, displeasure clear. "Doctor Wilson, please continue," Huxley said quickly. Wilson snorted and went on. "There's just one needle left. Once it goes in, the old man can hold on for at least another week." He drew out a gold needle and aimed for the center of Robert's chest. "Wait!" Right as he moved to place the final needle, Ramon's eyes flashed. He surged forward and seized it from Wilson's hand. "Who are you to stop me? Do you understand how critical this needle is? A single misstep and the old man dies," Wilson shouted, pointing at Ramon. Jeers and scornful laughter burst from the family members crowding the room. Ramon kept his voice steady. "You're about to put the last needle in the wrong spot. If you drive it in, you will kill him." The room laughed as if hearing a wild joke. Wilson shook with anger and reached to snatch the needle back. "My Heavenly Acupuncture technique has saved countless lives. How dare a boy like you tell me what to do?" Ramon slid aside and kept a tight grip on the gold needle. He spoke without haste. "Heavenly Acupuncture can indeed extend life, and its essence lies in the last needle. The gold needle has to go into the chest acupoint to concentrate what strength he has left. But you missed something. On the surface, he looks weak and depleted, yet in truth a smoldering internal fire is trapped in his chest. If you strike that point now, you'll make him cough blood and die." The derision from the kin still buzzed, but Wilson went still, anger melting into surprise. He hadn't expected Ramon to nail the essence of the technique, and doubt crept in. Ramon smiled, and before anyone could react, he stepped in and drove the gold needle into the top of Robert's head. Gasps shot through the room. Before they could stop him, Robert's mouth fell open. He sucked in a sharp breath, and blood began to seep from his eyes, ears, nose, and mouth. "It's over. This madman will kill him!" "Grab him-he can pay with his life!" "How dare he murder the patriarch. Let him and Huxley go to hell together!" Fury erupted. The room descended into chaos. Huxley, white as a sheet, grabbed Ramon by the collar and roared, "What did you do?" Ramon stayed calm and pointed to the bed. "Look closely." Huxley followed his gesture. Although blood seeped from Robert's orifices, his breathing had steadied and was stronger than before. A few seconds later, Robert jerked upright and his eyes flew open. "Hrrk." He heaved and spat a mouthful of tar-black blood. Inside the tar-black blood, a dozen revolting worms squirmed. A chorus of screams rose as people surged closer. A chill prickled down Ramon's spine. These were not ordinary vermin. They were curse bugs. Someone planted a curse bug in him-that's what really made Robert Dixon sick.

Chapter 4: The Curse

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