Sacrifice

The three of them, Dr. Morgan, fell silent.

None of them knew how to answer Lavinia.

And nobody knows why Lavinia asked that question.

This made the three of them wary again.

Paul steadied the shotgun he had never put down, his fingers tracing the fine scales on his wrist before firmly placing it on the trigger.

Dr. Morgan, whose hunting rifle was becoming increasingly difficult to use due to the distance, began to miss his dagger and revolver.

The Doctor prefers lightweight and concealable weapons; in comparison, shotguns are somewhat cumbersome for him.

Finally, Dr. Morgan coughed.

He didn't let go of Lavinia's hand, and said softly, in a tone as if coaxing a child, "We—are going to clear a piece of land here."

Dr. Morgan initially thought they were just taking a casual stroll, but worried that Lavinia might not want to leave.

The physical labor of clearing land was a good excuse to drive away naughty children.

Lavinia still didn't want to leave, and she asked again, "Are we going to cultivate that piece of land on the mountaintop?"

Mr. Sawyer nodded hesitantly.

"So," Lavinia said, a look of annoyance crossing her face, her tone becoming irritated, "Are you going to destroy all those stones?"

Before she could finish speaking and before anyone could answer, Dr. Morgan suddenly tightened his grip on Lavinia's arm.

He casually tossed the shotgun aside, and with his other arm, he reached out to grab Lavinia by the neck and throw her to the ground.

But Lavinia, this frail woman, displayed unexpected strength and agility at this moment.

She struggled to break free from Dr. Morgan's grasp, her mouth agape, letting out a piercing scream.

Before Dr. Morgan could react, she frantically ran toward the stone slab.

Sentinel Hill was covered in rubble, and in such a thick fog and dark environment, Lavinia, an albino, walked on it as if it were flat ground.

She passed by Mr. Sawyer, but it wasn't until she was already ten meters away that Mr. Sawyer belatedly reached out to stop her.

Mr. Sawyer was stunned.

But soon, a gunshot rang out, interrupting his astonishment.

Lavinia, who was running ahead, suddenly seemed to trip over something and fell to the ground, seemingly unable to stand up. However, she continued to move forward with all her might, using her hands and feet.

Mr. Sawyer looked at Paul Corey, who was holding a gun, and found that Paul was just as astonished as he was. His shotgun was already lowered to his side, showing no sign of being fired.

They all looked at Dr. Morgan.

The doctor's face was as cold and hard as the iron barrel of a gun.

He had just treated Lavinia like a child, but now he watched indifferently as Lavinia struggled to climb the ground.

The hunting rifle he was holding was provided by Mr. Sawyer. Unlike Old Williams's old flintlock rifle, it was a bolt-action rifle, and the bullet that had just been fired from it undoubtedly hit Lavinia's leg.

This is just a warning.

When Dr. Morgan saw that Lavinia was still crawling towards the circular stone slab, he pulled the bolt, removed the spent cartridge, and loaded a new bullet.

"Wait!" Paul tried to stop her. "She's incapacitated, we can—"

Mr. Sawyer pulled Paul aside, but the old gentleman shook his head and pulled Paul aside, not wanting to block Dr. Morgan.

The doctor gently pulled the trigger; the gun flashed, and a gunshot rang out.

The recoil of the bolt-action rifle barely caused the doctor's body to tremble.

But a few dozen meters away, a patch of water splashed up by bullets appeared in the fog.

Because of the thick fog, none of the three people standing there could make out the color of the water splashes.

However, the struggling figure in the mist became completely still.

Dr. Morgan exhaled and placed the bolt-action rifle on the ground.

"She's dead," the doctor calmly announced to the other two.

Mr. Sawyer said nothing, he simply shook his head.

Paul shuddered; he seemed to have thought a lot, but in the end he simply said, "I just wish Wilbur were dead."

"Wilbur will die too," Dr. Morgan replied, staring at the thick fog before him, and suddenly swallowed.

"You guys—go down the mountain first," the professor said. "Don't go to the Whateley House, go around there, and don't wait for me."

"What are you going to do?" Mr. Sawyer asked.

Dr. Morgan shrugged. "The original plan was to blow this place up."

"But the fuse here isn't ready yet, and the explosives might interfere with each other. I need to adjust them for a while."

The doctor shook his head. "No need—the fuse is long enough for the central disc. Let's put the rest aside for now. I—I don't want to wait any longer. Now we just need to blow up the disc."

Mr. Sawyer wanted to say something more, but a strange wailing sound from the valley interrupted his thoughts.

I don't know if it's just my imagination, but the sobbing seemed to get louder.

"We really shouldn't wait any longer—this sound—is not a good omen," Mr. Sawyer concluded. "I've lived in Dunwich all my life, and the last time I heard this sound as loud as it is today was when Oliver was alive."

He grabbed Paul's arm and let Paul help him down the mountain, leaving Dr. Morgan alone.

Once the two figures disappeared into the mist, the doctor took a few more breaths and took a few steps forward.

He hesitated for a moment, but ultimately did not check on Lavinia's condition.

He found the fuse among the many that extended toward the central circular stone disc, and then took out a metal lighter.

Dr. Morgan doesn't smoke, but he still carries a lighter with him, just in case.

But when the flame lit up on the lighter, Dr. Morgan hesitated.

He clearly had no reason to hesitate, but looking at the bright flame, he just couldn't bring it close to the fuse.

It's as if—after lighting the fuse, something terrible will happen.

Dr. Morgan suddenly realized that if it were Jack here, he might give up on doing so because of this sudden hesitation.

Jack has an excessive reliance on Inspiration; he's the kind of person who would refuse a cup of coffee because of a momentary flutter of the heart.

"But Dr. Morgan has absolutely no Inspiration"—his current feeling is completely unfounded.

He forced himself to lower the lighter and bring it close to the fuse.

The firelight illuminated the specially made rope.

But just before the fuse was lit, a drop of water suddenly fell from the sky, landing precisely on the lighter's flame and extinguishing it.

Dr. Morgan looked up and saw that the clouds in the sky had become thick and heavy.

That single drop of water was just the beginning; soon more drops fell from the sky, soaking the explosives and fuse.

But Dr. Morgan was no longer in the mood to care about any of that.

He heard some sounds coming from there.

Ha-e-i-ya-ya-a-i"

The dull thud was like thunder.

That seems to be the direction of the Whateley House.