Don’t Fall for the Billionaire Lover

Legend has it that these graves have been around for over fifty years. Every attempt by the government to relocate them has been met with some kind of supernatural hiccup. As the years rolled by, the tales only grew wilder. For the past two decades, no one's even given that land a second thought.noveldrama

But here's the kicker-it's actually a prime piece of real estate. Rumor has it, it used to be the home of the Grevenberg family, a prominent military clan in Eldridge City, about a century ago. They were as wealthy as kings, but in the blink of an eye, tragedy struck. The whole family-thirty-two members-perished in a fire. It blazed for a full day and night, leaving behind only charred remains. Their demise was the talk of the town back then. Even now, the older folks occasionally bring it up, always with a sigh-riches and glory just vanish in a heartbeat.

What folks don't know is that Grant has already put up a villa here. This place is massive, like a modern-day Wuthering Heights. Its grandeur stands in sharp contrast to the eerie stillness surrounding it. Amidst the sea of graves, the villa seems like an island wrapped in death's embrace, shrouded by the shadows of the tombs around it. In this spooky intersection of life and death, the villa stands like a lonely noble, bearing witness to life's end and fate's fickleness, swallowed by the tide of time, turning into just another speck of dust in history.

Grant hasn't been around for a while. Maybe... a year? When he did show up, it was only the butler who greeted him, rushing forward with surprise written all over his face. "Young Master, you're back," he said. Grant gave a slight nod, "How's he doing?" The butler replied with just a line: "...Still alive." Grant simply said, "I'll go check."

Instead of heading upstairs, Grant made his way straight to the basement. It was dark and damp down there a water dungeon, of all things. In the middle of it was an iron cage, locked tight with 108 locks, suspended by a chain connected to an automated lift. Daily, it was submerged multiple times as a form of water torture. Inside sat an elderly man with a snowy white beard. Just then, the cage slowly rose out of the water, and the old man emerged, water dripping off him. He was meditating, as still as a statue. Not a struggle in sight, not even a crease in his clothes. Apart from being drenched, he looked like a monk deep in meditation- calm and composed beyond belief.

Grant walked over on the slowly rising bridge within the water dungeon, right up to the iron cage. At that moment, the cage was emerging from the water, directly in front of him. The old man inside heard the footsteps and slowly opened his eyes. “The master's resilience is something else; at his age, enduring this water dungeon's torment is no small feat," Grant remarked.

The old man's eyes locked onto Grant's. Despite his white hair and beard, he looked nothing like a frail old man. His eyes were sharp, carrying a lethal intensity. His back was straight, still in that meditative pose, as if his time underwater was just another training ritual. But then, with a tilt of his head, he casually cleaned his ear with a pinky finger, shedding the fierce aura and adopting a laid-back, roguish demeanor.