Ghost Exorciser: The Oust Fake Heiress Strikes-Chapter 191: Third Eye

Talismans held mysterious energy, and when arranged into formations, their effects multiplied terrifyingly. 𝘧𝓇ℯℯ𝑤ℯ𝘣𝓃ℴ𝓋𝑒𝑙.𝑐𝘰𝑚

Lana nodded calmly. "Then let’s enter."

As Lana stepped inside the villa, the first thing she noticed was the absence of guards.

The air felt unnervingly still, carrying the faint scent of polished marble and old incense.

It immediately told her one thing: the person living here had complete confidence in the talisman formation protecting the house.

’He relies on it completely,’ she thought, her gaze subtly sharpening.

Even with her Third Eye open, she couldn’t see a single trace of black clouds lingering around the villa.

The air was clean, calm, and untouched. Whatever had been haunting her mission issuer was definitely not inside this place.

With such a powerful formation in place, even a twenty-year-old vengeful ghost would hesitate before setting foot here.

She reached out and rang the doorbell.

Moments later, the door creaked open, revealing a maid.

The instant Lana’s eyes fell on her, she froze.

Her pupils narrowed as she carefully observed the woman. The maid’s eyes were blank, too blank, and the aura surrounding her body was disturbingly tinged with red and white. The colors intertwined unnaturally, faint yet unmistakable.

’Hmm... so interesting... The maid has white mist but red too, huh?’ Lana thought.

Keeping her expression neutral, she nodded politely.

The maid lowered her head respectfully and gestured inward. "Please come in."

As they walked, the soft echo of their footsteps bounced off the polished floor. The maid turned slightly. "Would you like something to drink?"

Lana shook her head at first, then paused. "Coffee."

The maid nodded once more and quietly departed.

Left alone, Lana sat down in the living room.

The villa wasn’t overly grand. It was a three-story structure with a restrained sense of luxury.

Gold and white dominated the décor, giving the space a refined, elegant glow.

Blue velvet sofas were arranged in a C-shape, their fabric soft and pristine. The ceiling soared nearly three times higher than normal, making the villa feel expansive, almost mansion-like.

Yet despite the tasteful decorations, potted plants, and carefully placed lights, there was a strange emptiness in the air.

It felt as though no one truly lived here.

’This place feels... abandoned,’ she thought.

Just as she was scanning the surroundings for clues, the sound of footsteps echoed from above, slow, deliberate. Each step was accompanied by the dull thump of a walking stick striking the floor.

She straightened immediately.

’The mission issuer,’ she realized.

She knew from the briefing that he was an old man with a military background who had retired in Xila City.

The moment he descended the stairs, Lana stood upright instinctively, her posture respectful.

Those who served in the military deserved honor.

Only a tiny fraction, less than 0.0001%, survived long enough to retire. Yet they still stepped forward, knowing full well the risks. In this era, the greatest threat wasn’t neighboring nations, but the rampant rise of ghosts and supernatural disasters.

When the old man came fully into view, Lana smiled gently.

He wore a faded blue shirt and simple trousers, leaning slightly on his walking stick. Above him, Lana saw it clearly, a bright white light enveloping his body, faintly tinged with a purple mist.

She sighed softly.

’He must have saved countless lives,’ she thought. The white light signified virtue and merit, while the purple mist represented royalty, not of blood, but of spirit. This man had once been a king in his own field.

Their eyes met.

The old man paused briefly before offering her a calm smile. He extended his hand. "George."

Lana shook his hand politely. "Lana. Nice to meet you."

The moment their palms touched, her vision shattered.

Her body stiffened as images flooded her mind.

She saw George, no longer standing proud, but lying weak and pale on his bed. The room was dark, the air thick with suffocating dread. Night pressed against the windows when, suddenly, the door creaked open.

George turned his head slowly.

At first, there was nothing. Yet he didn’t move his gaze, because he seemed determined that there was someone there.

Then, a figure emerged.

It was pitch black, so dark that only its eyes and crimson lips were visible. It smiled.

That smile was directed at him.

In the next instant, the figure lunged forward, its laughter sharp and twisted, hands wrapping tightly around George’s neck. The sound of strangled gasps echoed as terror overtook him. His heart gave out before the grip ever loosened.

The vision vanished.

Lana staggered slightly, her breath catching in her throat.

George frowned, his gaze sharpening. "You have a Third Eye."

The certainty in his voice froze the room.

Before Lana could react, Mr. Crow instantly placed himself between her and the old man, feathers flaring defensively. His beady eyes burned with hostility, ready to tear apart anyone who dared threaten her.

Those with a Third Eye were coveted.

And hunted.

George raised his hand calmly. "I can see it because I have powers as well."

The tension eased immediately.

Mr. Crow relaxed slightly, though his guard remained high.

George continued, his tone even. "I also possess a Third Eye."

This revelation stunned both Lana and Mr. Crow.

George looked at Lana with gentle eyes.

"I can’t see my own destiny. But I can see yours." He paused. "All I can tell you is this: remain courageous. Whatever comes your way can be resolved if you stay calm and rely on your quick thinking."

Lana frowned faintly. She didn’t ask about her destiny.

’Knowing too much weakens the mind,’ she thought. ’If I knew how or when I’d die, my choices would change... and so would my fate.’

Instead, she met his gaze steadily. "You’re going to die."

George laughed lightly. "Everyone dies eventually."

Lana corrected herself calmly. "You’ll likely die at the hands of a ghost."

George nodded without hesitation. "I’ve faced death countless times on the battlefield. Dying to a ghost doesn’t sound unfamiliar."

His composure only deepened the silence between them.