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Chapter_295
The black dog chained to the tree stump lay dormant in its bed, its body curled up as it slept under the dim glow of the early morning sky. The sun had not yet risen, and the security guard, an elderly man likely in his eighties, was fast asleep in his guardhouse, oblivious to the world around him.
The dog’s ears twitched suddenly. Something in the air had caught its attention. In a flash, it sprang to its feet, eyes alert with a warning glint as it began to bark loudly toward the darkened shadows beyond the gate.
“Woof! Woof! Woof!”
The sound of the dog’s barking jolted the guard awake. Rubbing his eyes groggily, he grabbed the flashlight from his table and shuffled outside, trying to figure out what had disturbed the animal.
In the distance, Nash and Finn approached the guardhouse. The Young Gardens mausoleum lay ahead, its gates faded and worn. The word “Young Gardens” had nearly eroded into “You Gardens,” a silent testament to the years of neglect. The wall surrounding the mausoleum had partially collapsed, and thick weeds had overtaken the area, growing wild in every direction.
The guard, now awake, squinted in their direction, noticing the burlap sacks they carried, stained red with blood.
“Who… who are you?” the guard stammered, fear creeping into his voice.
Nash’s expression was cold as he replied in a low, almost respectful tone, “I’m here to pay respects to my family.”
The guard’s suspicion deepened. “Pay respects to your family? Who the hell does that in the middle of the night?”
The old man’s eyes narrowed as he approached the stump where the dog was chained. “Hurry up and leave, or I’ll let the dog out!”
But Nash and Finn exchanged a brief glance, then brushed past the guard without a word. The two of them leapt effortlessly over the ten-foot-tall gate, vanishing into the mausoleum before the guard even realized what had happened.
“Hah… got scared, didn’t you!” the guard muttered to himself, trying to salvage his pride. “I could tell from a glance you were bad news!” He confidently chained the dog back to the stump, then returned to the guardhouse, resuming his nap as if nothing had transpired.
Inside the mausoleum, the sight before them was eerie—over three hundred tombstones stood solemnly across the grounds, each marking the resting place of a once-glorious family. The Young family, their legacy reduced to mere stone and dust.
Nash stood still, his gaze fixed on the rows of tombstones. His heart ached as he stared at the stones, each one a painful reminder of a past that could never be regained.
In the center of the mausoleum, the tombstones were arranged in neat rows. Nash’s steps were heavy as he approached the largest one, standing before the monument to his grandfather.
The inscription read: “Here Lies Christopher Young, Young Family Patriarch.” His gaze lingered, then shifted to the twenty-four tombstones lined on either side. These were the graves of Christopher’s generation and his beloved wife.
Next, Nash found his father’s tombstone, etched with the name “Wolfgang Young.” His hand hovered over it, the weight of loss sinking deep within him.
Next to his father’s stone lay a tombstone marked “Here Lies Ruby Xing.” For the first time, Nash learned the name of his mother.
As Finn carefully set up the candles he had brought, Nash placed the severed heads of the seven juggernauts before his grandfather’s grave. Their grim trophies, a symbol of vengeance fulfilled.
Finn finally understood why Nash had been so driven to destroy the Green Bamboo Association. The deaths of these men, the juggernauts, were tied to the tragedy of the Young family—a tragedy Nash had carried in silence for so long.
Nash knelt before his grandfather’s grave, his forehead touching the earth in a deep bow of respect. “Grandpa… I have brought you the heads of seven of the Green Bamboo Association’s juggernauts.”
“The Ten Juggernauts are dead now,” he continued, voice unwavering. “And there will be no escape for those who were involved in the destruction of the Young family!”
One by one, Nash knelt before each of the tombstones in his grandfather’s row, offering his respects. He then turned to his parents’ graves, each of them marked with their own stone, silent witnesses to the family’s demise.
Candles were placed at each of their graves, but there were not enough to go around. Most were placed before his grandparents’ and parents’ stones. The juggernauts’ severed heads, too, burned into ashes before long.
Nearly two hours had passed by the time the sky began to brighten, the early morning light creeping over the horizon. Nash and Finn made their way back out of the mausoleum.
As they emerged, the day shift security guards arrived. One of them wheeled a rusty barrow filled with fresh candles, preparing for the upcoming death anniversary of the Young family.
“Gosh… I nearly forgot it’s their death anniversary today!” the day guard muttered.
“Hurry up and help me! It’ll take forever to do this alone!” he called out.
When the night shift guard saw Nash and Finn leaving the mausoleum, he paused in disbelief. His face turned pale as he recognized the two men. “When did these two get in there?” he whispered, his voice shaky.
Nash, always composed, approached the guards, his demeanor polite. “Sirs, did you buy these?” he asked, nodding toward the candles the guard had brought.
The day guard glanced at the other with a puzzled look, unaware of the significance of the candles or the men who had just left the mausoleum. The night guard, however, felt a chill creep down his spine as the realization dawned on him. The two men who had entered the mausoleum so stealthily were no ordinary visitors—they were part of something far more dangerous than he could ever have imagined.