Clive's outstretched hand dropped weakly.
The sandalwood box containing the golden needles slowly slipped from his hand.
It was then caught steadily by someone from the third branch of the Walsh family, who had been standing by the bed.
"What did he just say?"
"Something about giving the golden needles to Felicia?"
"This old fool is still thinking about an outsider at the brink of death. He never thinks about us and how we'll live after this!"
"Are you stupid? The arsonist took Harvey away. He's probably not coming back. The Walsh family will fall into our hands now."
"As for the golden needles... they're nothing. Whoever wants them can take them. He's the only one who treats them like a treasure!"
"You're right."
"What are we waiting for? Let's notify the relatives and friends and prepare for his funeral."
The murmurs were filled with excitement, with no hint of sorrow—only barely contained joy.
...
Felicia and Carmen reached the mountaintop.
At the top was a tower, weathered and old from the passage of time, with a centuries-old tree standing beneath it. A sign beside the tree indicated it was over 700 years old.
Carmen had come specifically for this. She magically pulled out two small wooden plaques tied with red cloth from behind her, nudged Felicia, and said, "This tree is very powerful. Hurry! Write a wish and hang it up!"
Felicia couldn't help but smile, helplessly amused.
The tree was already covered in red cloth and small wooden plaques. As the wind blew, the plaques clinked together, adding an air of solemnity to the ancient tree.
Carmen was already writing, her face full of seriousness.
Felicia didn't want to contradict her, but she didn't know what wish to make, so she wrote "Peace and Safety" on the plaque.
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