Chapter 149 Chaos in the Lu Family

Chapter 149: Making a Scene at the Lu Residence

The moment the two entered the secret chamber, the dim lights automatically turned on.

The light was very faint, barely enough to make out the path ahead.

Cold stone walls surrounded them, the air thick with a damp, musty odor mixed with an indescribable smell of decay.

Lu Lin walked ahead, toying with the dagger he carried with him.

The blade reflected a cold glint in the dimness, his eyes full of caution and predatory alertness.

Shen Qingci followed behind him, his footsteps steady, the sound of his cane tapping on the ground echoed through the narrow passage.

After they had walked about two hundred meters.

The space suddenly opened before them.

A vast underground space, much larger than expected.

On the central raised platform sat an exquisitely crafted coffin.

The coffin was pitch black, inlaid with silver patterns that gleamed faintly in the dim light.

To the left stood a row of bookshelves, densely packed with books.

To the right was an office-like area, with a table, chairs, and some scattered papers.

On the wall hung objects that looked like torture instruments—iron chains, a branding iron, and oddly shaped tools.

In the corner was an iron cage.

Shen Qingci’s eyes lingered on the cage for a moment, then, leaning on his cane, he walked up onto the platform.

He stopped next to the coffin, looking down at the elegant coffin.

Lu Lin put on a pair of black leather gloves. First, he walked over to the desk and searched through it thoroughly.

Then he moved to the bookshelf and began leafing through the books one by one.

The books seemed ordinary, but when opened, they had many strange papers tucked inside.

He quickly skimmed the contents, his gaze growing darker.

Shen Qingci continued observing the coffin. After a moment, he lifted his cane and lightly pressed an inconspicuous button on the coffin.

"Click—"

The coffin lid slowly opened.

A bone-chilling gust of cold air rushed out.

Shen Qingci frowned, pulling his coat tighter around him, and took two steps back to distance himself from the coffin.

He hated the cold.

From a distance, he looked into the open coffin.

Inside was empty, filled only with spreading cold air.

He didn’t go any closer. Instead, he turned, stepped down from the platform, and walked over to the wall covered with torture instruments.

His gaze fell on a bloodstained tool—a pair of iron pliers with dark red stains still on them.

He put on gloves, took out a handkerchief he carried, and gently dabbed at the long-dried bloodstains.

Then he folded the handkerchief and placed it in a sealed bag.

He walked over to the iron cage, stared at it for a while, then slowly crouched down and, using tweezers, picked up a nearly invisible strand of hair from between the bars.

It was long.

The hair was coarse, slightly split, and even frayed in places.

He carefully placed that single strand into another sealed bag.

After finishing, he stood up, looked down at the two sealed bags in his hand, and slightly furrowed his brows.

He looked somewhat disgusted.

Lu Lin finished flipping through all the books on the shelves. He turned around and saw Shen Qingci’s disgusted frown.

He quickly walked over, took the sealed bags from Shen Qingci’s hands, and said in a low voice:

"Let’s go, brother."

Shen Qingci nodded.

He lifted his eyes and glanced at the coffin on the platform.

Because the coffin had been opened, the temperature in the chamber had dropped even further, and the spreading cold air made him uncomfortable.

Lu Lin followed his gaze.

Then, in two quick strides, he mounted the platform.

He looked down inside the coffin—empty, with only the cold air swirling.

As the cold air churned, he could faintly see something stuck to the bottom of the coffin.

He untied a thin chain from his wrist and attached his dagger to it.

With a flick of his wrist, the dagger shot out, chain trailing behind, and landed precisely on that object.

He lifted his wrist, and a yellow piece of paper was brought out by the dagger.

On it, written in bright red ink, were two characters:

Eternal Life.

On the reverse side, there were also words.

Shen Qingci.

Lu Lin’s eyes instantly darkened.

The darkness and malice in his eyes were even stronger than the cold air seeping from the coffin.

His whole body was instantly shrouded in a suffocating, oppressive aura.

His face darkened as he folded the paper and put it into his pocket.

Then he reached out and closed the coffin lid.

He raised his dagger again and slammed it down hard against the switch, smashing it to pieces.

Only then did he slowly descend from the platform.

Seeing him descend, Shen Qingci leaned on his cane and turned toward the exit.

Lu Lin followed at his side.

The dark expression and murderous aura from moments ago had vanished without a trace.

A smile lingered on his face as he walked unhurriedly beside Shen Qingci.

They came and went as if no one else were around, entering and leaving silently.

The black Maybach drove out of the old Lu mansion, its taillights flashing twice in the night before disappearing at the end of the road.

Inside the car, Lu Lin leaned back in the seat, a smile tugging at his lips as his fingers gently twirled through Shen Qingci's hair.

Shen Qingci kept his eyes closed, letting him toy with it, his expression cold and undisturbed.

The car drove steadily toward the villa.

-

The Lu family's old mansion.

The clock struck ten.

The door of the meditation room opened slowly from within.

Old Master Lu, supported by the butler and leaning on his cane, walked out.

He fingered the string of purple sandalwood prayer beads, his face calm, a rare tranquility in his brow.

"Take it slow, Master," said the butler, carefully supporting him.

Old Master Lu nodded, leaning on his cane as he walked step by step toward the main building.

After a while, Old Master Lu's steps suddenly halted. Something was wrong—too quiet.

The entire Lu residence was as quiet as an empty house.

No sound of patrol footsteps, no murmuring from servants, not even the chirping of insects or birds.

That stillness carried an indescribable eeriness.

Old Master Lu's brow twitched violently, and a wave of unease surged within him.

He quickened his steps toward the main building.

A few steps later, he spotted a guard slumped in the corner of the corridor, motionless.

The butler's face went pale as he hurried over to check.

He reached out to check the man's breathing, then lifted one of his eyelids to check his pupils before looking up, his voice strained:

"Master, he's alive but unconscious."

Old Master Lu's heart sank like a stone.

He gripped the prayer beads so tightly his knuckles turned white.

The beads made a faint creaking sound in his hand, as if they might snap at any moment.

Without a word, he quickened his pace, almost stumbling toward the study.

The butler quickly followed. He pushed open the study door; everything seemed normal.

Bookshelves, wall lamps, desk, brick walls.

It looked no different from when they had left.

But the unease in Old Master Lu's heart did not dissipate. With trembling hands, he triggered the mechanisms one after another.

The bookshelf began to turn slowly.

Old Master Lu stared intently at the hidden door as it opened, his breathing quickening.

The door opened.

He leaned on his cane and stumbled inside.

The room was a complete mess.

The books on the shelves had been rummaged through haphazardly, the filing cabinet doors hung open, and papers were scattered all over the floor.

His eyes fell on the platform.

The coffin he had meticulously crafted—its lid tightly sealed.

He hurried up onto the platform.

Lowering his head, he examined the button. It had been slashed with knife marks, completely destroyed.

His hands trembling, he tried to push the coffin lid open.

It wouldn't budge.

Blood rushed to Old Master Lu's head. He clutched his chest as his face instantly turned deathly pale.

The string of purple sandalwood prayer beads he had held for over a decade slipped from his hand.

The beads hit the ground, the string snapping, each bead rolling away in every direction with a clattering sound.

Old Master Lu's body fell straight backward.

"Master!!"

The butler lunged forward and caught him desperately.

But Old Master Lu's eyes had already rolled back, his lips turning blue, his body as limp as a wet rag.

"Someone! Quick!"

The butler's frantic shouts echoed in the empty secret room.

No one responded.

The entire Lu mansion stayed as silent as a grave.