Villain of Fate: The Tyrant System-Chapter 89: The Thread Beneath the Beating Heart
The Thread Beneath the Beating Heart
Smoke-thin, her voice faded out. Amara Ravenswood spoke as if balancing on a breath. Uncertainty curled through each syllable. Almost breakable, the silence followed. Fragile echoes stayed behind.
Out of nowhere, she offered some awkward explanation involving "help" along with aligning pressure spots on energy lines. Everyone in the space just froze, eyes flickering in silence.
Julian D’Aurelius blinked too.
They called me... to lend a hand?
The patriarch lay motionless beneath the silk quilt. His breathing was shallow, chest rising unevenly. The room smelled of medicinal herbs and anxiety.
Julian stepped closer.
Even Amara couldn’t identify the problem. That alone was terrifying. She was the heir to the Miracle Medicine Record, a once-in-a-generation prodigy of Ancient medicine.
What kind of illness leaves her confused?
Instinctively, Julian focused.
His golden eyes sharpened, attention narrowing like a blade. He let the noise fade—the murmurs, the shuffling feet, the faint ticking of the antique clock.
He scanned the patriarch’s body.
Nothing abnormal on the surface.
No visible toxins in the nervous system.
No meridian blockage.
No organ rupture.
Strange.
Could it be that after the De Dominicis household plot collapsed, the story forced the Obsidian Kings to step in as divine doctor and fix everything?
This was the first time he had encountered something like this.
In previous transmigrations, he never survived past the first segment.
Either dead on arrival.
Or alive for two or three hours before being slaughtered.
This was new territory.
He focused deeper.
And then—
He saw it.
A golden thread.
It coiled around the patriarch’s heart like a living filament of light.
It wasn’t blood.
It wasn’t nerve.
It pulsed.
It moved.
[Strange... what is this golden thread? How did it wrap around the old man’s heart?]
The filament tightened faintly, then loosened, as if breathing.
Julian’s scalp tingled.
[Damn... it even moves. Isn’t this Evan’s Bright Life Sucking Leach?]
His heartbeat skipped.
The Bright Life Sucking Leach.
A parasitic spiritual organism cultivated through forbidden methods.
It wasn’t poison.
It wasn’t conventional Black Magic.
It was worse.
It was alive.
The leach entered through skin contact—usually via a small wound or through food infused with spiritual medium. Once inside, it attached itself to the heart, feeding slowly on vitality while releasing microscopic pulses that mimic organ failure.
The victim would appear to suffer natural systemic collapse.
Within twenty-four hours—
Death.
And when the host died?
The leach would dissolve into nothing.
No evidence.
No trace.
No crime.
Perfect murder.
[This thing is extremely insidious. Once it enters the human body, the host is guaranteed to die within twenty-four hours.]
[After the host dies, this thing will self-dissolve, leaving no evidence behind.]
Julian’s jaw tightened.
Evan.
Of course it was him.
Or—
[To save the patriarch, either Evan has to come personally to remove the leach... or we can try the secret recipe from the Miracle Medicine Record.]
[Using night-blooming mugwort, frost lotus pollen, crimson vine bark, powdered obsidian resin, black mountain saffron... thirteen herbs total to refine into cleansing incense.]
[The smoke must penetrate the lungs and force the parasite to surface.]
[I’ll find a way to secretly remind them later. We can’t let the patriarch die no matter what.]
The moment those thoughts passed through his mind—
Bianca De Dominicis stiffened.
So did Amara.
Their eyes flicked up simultaneously.
They both heard it.
The same voice.
The same thoughts.
For a fraction of a second, their gazes collided.
And in that silent exchange, understanding bloomed.
They could both hear Julian’s inner thoughts.
Bianca’s breath caught.
So that’s why Amara insisted on bringing him.
It wasn’t assistance.
It was access to truth.
"I just thought of a remedy," Amara said quickly, masking the storm in her chest. "Let someone fetch the herbs for me."
Her voice regained its composure.
She grabbed paper and began writing rapidly—the exact formula she had just heard.
Night-blooming mugwort.
Frost lotus pollen.
Crimson vine bark.
Obsidian resin powder.
Black mountain saffron.
Ash-root.
White cedar gum.
Star anise ash.
Three-leaf bitterwort.
Amber dust.
She wrote all thirteen.
A servant ran immediately.
Amara inhaled slowly, mind racing.
The Miracle Medicine Record’s lost prescriptions were no ordinary formulas.
They were weapons disguised as remedies.
"Since Amara has a treatment plan," Bianca said, forcing steadiness into her voice, "let’s go out and rest for now. Let her take care of Grandpa."
Reluctantly, the family members filed out.
Ryan lingered for half a heartbeat longer than necessary.
His eyes narrowed faintly at Julian.
Then he left.
The door shut.
Julian glanced around.
"So... there’s nothing for me to do?"
He was still wondering how to subtly hint at the leach.
"There is," Bianca said.
Her hand shot out, gripping his wrist.
"I have something to discuss with you. Come with me."
Her grip was firm.
Cool.
Julian allowed himself to be pulled.
[Why so serious? Is there something important she wants to tell me?]
The small garden outside was dimly lit. Lanterns cast warm halos across stone paths. Wind brushed through bamboo leaves, whispering like distant secrets.
Bianca stopped near a carved stone bench.
She pulled him down beside her.
For a moment, she didn’t speak.
Her shoulders trembled slightly.
Then—
"I think something’s wrong with my grandpa," she said quietly. "He was perfectly healthy... and suddenly this happened. Do you think he was poisoned?"
Her red eyes were glossy now.
Not the heiress.
Just a granddaughter.
Julian nodded slowly.
"I think it’s possible," he replied. "But we still need to investigate carefully."
His voice was calm.
Measured.
[It’s not poison. It’s a Bright Life Sucking Leach.]
[The leach requires proximity to implant. If Evan didn’t come here personally... then it’s probably that idiot Ryan.]
Bianca’s fingers tightened around the stone bench.
Her nails dug into her palm.
Ryan.
The wind grew colder.
Somewhere inside the house, the patriarch’s breathing rattled faintly.
And for the first time that night—
The De Dominicis estate felt like a battlefield.
Only this war was invisible.
And something was already feeding at the heart of it.
