Chapter 1450

Grand Viper descended the stairs, step by step, wearing a twisted grin on his face. "Brat, I may not be able to kill your old man, but taking out a little rat like you? That’s nothing."

Quinton shrank back, crawling in a panic. "You damn bastards, all of you—may you die horrible deaths! I swear, even if I become a ghost, I’ll haunt every last one of you!"

His screams were filled with panic, regret, and hatred. It was the sound of a man who finally realized just how badly he had miscalculated.

With a cold snort, Grand Viper vanished in a blur and reappeared right beside Quinton. The coiled serpent draped around him and bared its fangs with a hiss, lunging for Quinton’s throat.

‘Am I really going to die here? Am I really going to die before I’ve claimed what’s mine, before I’ve buried Andrew with my own hands?’ Quinton thought.

For a moment, he drowned in despair.

Suddenly, Rafael lifted a hand and said with a slow smile, "Grand Viper, let’s keep this one alive for now. He might still be useful."

Grand Viper paused reluctantly, then pulled his serpent back and stomped back upstairs in frustration.

Quinton wiped the cold sweat from his forehead and looked at Rafael, his voice trembling. "Mr. Driscoll, what do you want from me?"

Rafael sneered. "What do I want? I want to remind you of your place, you pathetic little mutt. Did you really think you were on our level? You thought just because you handed over one fragment you earned the right to a piece of the treasure? Please."

Quinton’s face went dark, his tone icy. "I gave you the final piece of the map. Why the hell shouldn’t I be part of this? Mr. Driscoll, Dr. Lake, there’s a line between ambition and greed—don’t cross it."

Mosby smirked. "Spare us the speech, Quinton. A man who isn’t selfish gets eaten alive. And you? You’re as greedy as they come. So, don’t throw rocks when you live in a glass house. Now, enough talk. You’re still alive because we need you for something."

He waved Quinton over.

Quinton hesitated, knowing full well that running meant instant death. So, swallowing his pride, he stepped up to the table.

Mosby pointed at the one incomplete piece on the table—the blank fragment from the Rhodes family—and spat, "This is the only one without any markings. The damn thing’s useless unless we can reveal the map. Quinton, you know how to make the hidden ink appear, don’t you?"

Quinton furrowed his brow. "Judging from the material, it doesn’t look fake. But unlike the other pieces, there’s no visible writing. That has to mean it’s somehow tied to the Rhodes family."

Rafael rolled his eyes. "Of course it is. Do you think we don’t know that already? What we need you to do is make the damn thing show something."

Quinton stroked his chin. "Based on ancient concealment techniques, we could try soaking it in warm water, applying a solvent, or heating it gently over flame…"

Rafael slowly nodded. "Might be worth a shot."

However, Mosby scoffed. "A shot at ruining everything. This fragment might be made from sheepskin, but it’s over a hundred years old. It won’t survive soaking or fire. Are you trying to uncover the map—or incinerate it?"

Rafael gave an awkward laugh. "Okay, fair point."

Quinton sighed. "In that case… there may not be any other way. At least not for now."

Mosby’s voice dropped into a growl. "Then you’re useless again."

Seeing the murderous gleam in his eyes, Quinton went pale. "Wait, wait! Mr. Driscoll, Dr. Lake, I’ll think of something! I’ve got it! Andrew. That bastard Andrew—he must know the method!"

Mosby’s expression shifted. "Now you’re thinking. We’ve suspected the same. That’s why we’re putting this Rhodes fragment in your hands. You’re going to see Andrew, talk to him, and convince him to reveal the true markings on this map."

Quinton stared, stunned. "You want me to do it? But even if he does know how to, there’s no way he’ll help me!"

Rafael grinned darkly. "That’s your problem, not ours. Just get it done, Quinton. Make it happen, and maybe you’ll walk away from all this in one piece."