Griffin directly escorted Charles to the depths of the castle.
With the heavy clanging of the giant steel machinery, the thick inner city gate slowly closed. Through the gap in the gate, Charles saw the servants outside flashing fearful and sympathetic eyes - they were outside, while Charles was inside, a steel gate seeming to separate the two worlds.
Clang! A loud noise, the iron gate locked, the entire inner courtyard became a cohesive whole, as sturdy as gold and iron.
The courtyard built of steel and massive stones gave a sense of mournful history. When the Williamson family first established this, they probably never imagined that this formidable inner castle would remain unused until the family's decline.
Yet today, it was being used to judge the last pure-blooded Williamson.
Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom!
The rhythmic impact sounds pounded on the heart. In this gloomy environment, the atmosphere felt particularly oppressive, filled with a strange indescribable scent - oily, bloody-sweet, and rotten, suffocating.
Then, a few black shadows dragging heavy footsteps appeared in Charles' field of vision. Due to the backlight, their appearance could not be discerned, only the thick steel armor and the ferocious spikes at the joints could be vaguely made out.
A flash of lightning exploded in Charles' mind - he understood their identity, they were the family knights of the Pavil family, the punitive knights responsible for striking down the family's traitors and upholding the family's law.
These people were selected from childhood, brought into the Pavil family, and after experiencing years of arduous training and rigorous tests, the elites who remained became the family knights, officially beginning their service. Their baseline was the fourth-level "Earth Knight", placing them among the upper echelons of the family's private army in the Millennium Empire.
What was surprising was that the family knights, renowned for their loyalty and reliability, were actually being controlled by Griffin!
It seems Griffin had made ample preparations.
Griffin was relying on the grand duke's letter, and his near eight-year strong control over the interior and exterior of the ancient castle. As long as the grand duke did not return, he would be the uncrowned king of the ancient castle.
Griffin needed to find a suitable reason to move against Charles. Framing him for disrupting the order of the botanical garden would be the perfect opportunity - this young master has been courting disaster, and today's situation was no exception. If he had listened to Brian's arrangement and obediently stayed in the Violet Garden, Griffin would have had a hard time finding a chance to attack him.
On the other hand, Charles was relying on Master Roan's enthusiasm for the project and his affirmation of his talents. He needed the great sorcerer to come out and reshape his image, so he had to orchestrate a conflict to implicate Master Roan.
Charles' purpose in the botanical garden was two-fold - one was to get closer to the great sorcerer, the other was to find a way to break free from Griffin's control over him. The opportunity had now arrived, Griffin's trap was timely, and Charles planned to use it to his advantage. If successful, Charles would temporarily escape the gloom hanging over him.
Charles reached into his robe and felt the withered wood wand, Yolanda's equipment and his only self-defense tool at the moment. The magic pool of the withered wood wand could hold 110 units of magic power, and although over 20 points had already been used, the remaining power still greatly exceeded Jordan's wand.
"Griffin, what is the meaning of this?" Charles purposely asked.
Griffin sneered, "Aren't you feeling smug? Now keep being arrogant and let me see!"
"You took a bunch of servants to the botanical garden, a rabble, and now back in the castle you're commanding the family knights - quite the scheme!"
"Of course, I'm not that stupid!" Griffin sat imperiously in a chair in the inner courtyard, legs crossed, revealing his boots splattered with mud. "Come, my young master, now kneel before me and lick my boots clean. Today I'll let you suffer a little less pain!"
There was a demonic gleam in his gaze, as if torturing the rightful heir of the Pavil family could give him inexplicable pleasure. In psychology, this was a pathological condition, the roots of which were unclear.
"Have you gone mad? Dare to touch me!" Charles narrowed his eyes.
Griffin raised a hand, and a side hall's lights lit up in response. Glancing over, one could see various twisted torture instruments and their splotchy stains.
No wonder the entire inner courtyard was permeated with a damp, sweet, and bloody smell - it was coming from that side hall. The marble floor was unrecognizable, covered in an incomplete brown "carpet" in patches, looking quite unsightly.
A nameless fury filled Charles' chest. This damned servant had actually turned his mother's castle into such a bloody and sinful place, utterly heinous!
"Many servants have tasted the flavors of these instruments. No matter how tough someone is, they can't withstand the full torture process. Even the family knights can't endure its power, and the most famous is the central chair, called the 'Tomb of Courage' - any who can last five minutes on it can call themselves a true warrior. I wonder if the young master can savor its taste?" Griffin's voice was soft and sinister, making one's skin crawl.
Charles followed his gaze to the complex human-shaped chair in the center of the side hall. Just a glance made his spine tingle - Griffin was indeed well-versed in this.
Charles' expression remained calm as he said, "Torture me? You've got some nerve! Aren't you afraid my father will cause you trouble?"
Griffin let out a loud laugh. "So you're still so naive! I have a hundred ways to make you suffer endless pain, and the most skilled priests won't be able to find the source.
Now, let me prophesy your life: This year, the grand duke will gradually forget about you, because my letters will regularly inform him that you remain obstinate and degenerate, a complete waste of food, and he will detest any news of you.
Next year, the grand duke will marry a new mistress and impregnate her with the future heir of the Pavil family.
Three years later, the new heir will be adored by the entire family, while you will be forgotten, rotting in a corner like a filthy insect, relying on my breath to survive. As for how long you'll live, that depends on my mood.
Young master, do you believe this miraculous prophecy?"
Griffin had told a lie - Charles clearly saw a murderous intent in his eyes, deeply hidden. It was undoubtable that he wanted to kill him, but the method couldn't be too overt, lest it provoke a final struggle and introduce variables to the plan. So he had to be patient enough, toying with the prey like a predator, until the prey was exhausted and succumbed to fate, then he would reveal his lethal fangs.
Charles took out the withered wood wand and smiled. "I also have a prophecy, one that's the opposite of yours.
Immediately, I will beat you bloody;The great sorcerer will rush in and expose this land you've desecrated;The grand duke will be furious, strip you of your stewardship, and investigate everything in the ancient castle;And the master behind you will abandon you, doing their utmost to bury you before you can open your mouth;In the end, you will be ruined and all your sins will be on your shoulders, possibly even implicating your family..."
"Shut up!" Griffin suddenly had an ominous premonition. The Charles before him seemed so unfamiliar - his mind was very clear, his gaze seeming to see through everything. Facing this formidable opponent, he had not lost his courage, and his prophecy had precisely struck at Griffin's deepest fears.
Suddenly, a blue vein popped out on Griffin's forehead as he angrily shouted, "Beat him! Control the strength, don't kill him!"
"As commanded!"
A knight clenched his fists, producing a "clang clang" sound, then began to remove his armor piece by piece, clanging to the ground.
A burly man stepped in front of Charles, built like a wild ox, with ugly scars covering his exposed skin.
Charles coldly said, "So this is the Pavil family knight? Seeing the Maple Leaf sword emblem, aren't you ashamed? Are you worthy of the resources the Pavil family invested in you? You are now facing the offspring of the iron-blooded grand duke, the object of your sworn loyalty!"
The burly figure wavered, his movements slightly hesitant.
Griffin cursed furiously, "Sonny, you stupid ox-brained fool! A few words made you lose your fighting spirit? Don't forget your woman and son!"
Sonny clenched his fists tightly, brows furrowed, eyes gleaming with malice as he charged at Charles.
But before he could react, Charles had already swung the wand, fluent incantations spilling from his lips. Flickering blue magical energy pulsed from his fingertips, and in the blink of an eye, a semi-transparent egg-shaped shield surrounded Charles.
Griffin watched, dumbfounded. He had seen magic before, but why was this happening to this waste of a young master?!
Sonny had experience fighting mages, and after a brief moment of paralysis upon seeing the "Mage Shield" spell, he snapped out of it, his body instinctively surging forward in a fierce tackle.
So fast!
Charles finally witnessed the true strength of a world-class martial artist. Arcane Missile wouldn't be fast enough!
Charles precisely calculated the timing - Sonny's lunge would reach him before the missile could be cast, interrupting the spellcasting.
In an instant, Charles changed tactics, the spell becoming "Flaming Hand" - a 6-syllable first-tier spell, twice as fast as the 13-syllable Arcane Missile.
At the same time, Charles also felt the benefits of Yolanda's withered wood wand - the magic power drawn out was smooth and effortless, far better than Jordan's wand.
Delayed no more, the moment had arrived.
Charles swung his right fist, his arm suddenly ablaze, surging forward to meet the charge...
"Instant Fireball!" Charles shouted the attack's name.
Sonny only saw a flash of fire, not expecting it, bringing his arms up to shield his face as he barreled forward.
This choice was correct - against a mage's attack, avoiding was the stupidest decision if one's life was not threatened. One had to close in! Even if he died at the mage's feet, it was better than letting the nightmare begin when the distance was widened.
In his haste, Sonny lunged forward dozens of steps, failing to hit the target and not feeling the impact of the flames either. He silently cursed, this is bad!
Sonny braced his right leg, sliding across the ground for over ten meters to stop his charge, then turned around - only to see a swirling azure light rushing towards him.
Why so fast?! That was the sole thought in Sonny's mind, with no time to react.