Andrew shuddered and swept away the feeling. No matter how strong the illusion is, no matter how profound the third eye sees, the future is not predestined, and some things can be changed. No one has to die tonight. It doesn't have to be that way, whether it happens to someone else or Andrew.

When Andrew looked at the gloomy house, all the disgusting lust and fear, and the terrible hatred that was openly exposed to Andrew's third eye, made Andrew feel very uncomfortable. It's like a beautiful cutie with beautiful hair, luscious lips, sunken eyes, and festering teeth, and a peeled human skin on her shoulders. Andrew shuddered.

There is also an indescribable, indescribable and indescribable thing that calls to Andrew and beckons to him. There's magic here, and it's magic that the demons once relied on. Under Andrew's mind, this power can help Andrew master and change the world, and Andrew can shape this power as he pleases, destroying all the trivial and cumbersome laws and civilizations, bringing order to the places of chaos, and consolidating Andrew's authority, position, and future.

And now, what is Andrew's reward for abandoning this magic? A group of wizards that Andrew supports and protects suspects and despises Andrew, and when Andrew refuses to be the master of the world and is willing to adhere to the precepts of the Ministry of Magic, they instead condemn Andrew.

Andrew can kill Andrew before the Shadow Man finds him. Destroy the house with rage and flames, and kill everyone in it, leaving nothing behind. Andrew could reach out and embrace the dark energy he's gathered and take it for himself, leaving the fucking dead as the consequences.

Why didn't Andrew kill him now?'s third eye saw a furious flash of light pulsing through the window, magic gathering, preparing, and forming. The Shadow Man was inside, gathering his strength to cast the spell that would kill Andrew. What justification does Andrew have for him to do whatever he wants?

Andrew clenched his fists in rage, and as Andrew tried to destroy the Seaside Mansion, the Shadow Man, and all the nasty embryos he was with, Andrew felt the air crackle from dryness. Andrew can use this magic to challenge the Ministry of Magic itself, the old fools with gray beards, no foresight, no imagination and no vision. The Ministry of Magic and that pathetic watchdog, Morgan, had absolutely no idea of Andrew's strength. The energy gathers here, gloating through Andrew's rage, ready to pounce on the things that Andrew hates and fears to ashes.

The silver pentagram left by Queen Anne froze at Andrew's chest, and the sudden pressure made Andrew gasp. Andrew leaned forward slightly and raised a hand, Andrew's fist was so tight that it even hurt when Andrew released his finger. Andrew's hand was shaking, shaking, and hanging down again.

That's all for the rest. There was a hand that held Andrew's hand, a soft hand with slender and delicate fingers. It's a woman's hand. The hand caressed Andrew's hand and lifted Andrew's hand like a child, until Andrew held Queen Anne's pentagram tightly.

Andrew held the pentagram in his hand, feeling its icy power and orderly, perfect geometry. The pentagram inside the circle is an ancient symbol of the white wizard and one of the strongest images of magic that have been handed down from ancient times. The cold power of the pentagram gave Andrew a chance and a moment to rethink and bring him back to his senses.

Andrew took a deep breath and tried to see the anger, hatred, and deep greed burning in Andrew's heart for revenge and punishment. This is not the essence of magic, nor is it the purpose of magic. Magic is produced by life, by the interaction between nature and the elements, by the energy of all living beings--- especially human -----. A person's magic represents what kind of person he belongs to, and it also represents most of his inner thoughts. There is no more accurate way to measure human nature than by the power and magic he wields.

Andrew is not a murderer, Andrew is not Philip, and he is not Tom Riddle or Gatler Drinkward. Andrew is Andrew Lee, and Andrew is a wizard. Wizards control their magic, not be controlled by it.

Andrew tried to convince himself to believe this, but the demons in his mind did not hesitate to mock him, calling him the biggest fool in the world---- who needs protection?

Wizards are not supposed to use magic to kill, they use magic to explore, defend, heal and assist. But not for destruction.

The anger suddenly receded, the burning hatred dissipated, and Andrew's mind could calm down again. The sharp pain in his head had turned into a slight pain, and Andrew shivered in the first wave of wind and rain. All of Andrew's trinkets have either been used or have been lost. Andrew was left with only one last insistence.

Andrew looked up, suddenly feeling rather small and lonely. Andrew's neighborhood was empty, no one was holding Andrew's hand, and he was alone. For a moment, Andrew thought he had seen a perfume smell that was familiar to him, but it disappeared after a few moments. Andrew had to help himself.

Andrew let out a breath. "Alright. Andrew muttered to himself. "That's it. “

So, despite the impending storm, Andrew walked through the ghostly landscape dotted with skulls and entered this house full of vicious magic, exuding savage and ferocious mysterious powers. Andrew stepped forward and went head-to-head with a dangerous enemy who had a home advantage and was already crazy, he was well prepared and happy to defeat Andrew from the core of the destructive force he was in, and the demons who were on Andrew's back were cheering to embrace and devour everything in front of him, of course they felt that the ants in front of them were not worthy ---of such power, these forces should belong to Andrew--- and Andrew could only rely on skill, resourcefulness and experience, and finally persistence.

Could there be a worse situation?

Andrew's sight of Philip's seaside mansion that Andrew saw with his third eye followed Andrew closely, which really disgusted Andrew to the extreme. It looked harmless, but underneath it was filthy and corrupt, churning with negative energy, anger, arrogance, and greed, especially greed, greed for wealth, greed for power, and more than physical desires.

The ghostly shadow is not entirely real, but only the manifestation of negative energy here. These shadows clinged to walls, rain gutters, balconies, and windowsills, gobbling up the negative energy left behind by Philip's spell. Andrew thinks there must be a lot of negative energy here. He couldn't use his energy to cast spells to attack Andrew as efficiently as anyone else.

Andrew limped up the stairs to the front door, and Andrew's third eye didn't see any warning signs or illusionistic traps. Andrew may have overestimated Philip the Shadowman, his mana was as powerful as a full-fledged wizard, but he had no magical education. With muscles and no heads, that's Philip the Shadow Man. Andrew had to remember that.

Andrew tried the front door, just to be thrilling and fun.

The door opened.

Andrew blinked, not wanting to doubt such good fortune, nor questioning his overconfidence in the fact that Philip would not lock the front door. Instead, Andrew just took a big breath, concentrated all of Andrew's willpower, pushed open the door and walked in.

Andrew had forgotten how the house was furnished and decorated. What Andrew remembers was what he saw with the third eye, which was much the same as the outside, only more focused and offensive. Ghosts clinging around, some silent, twinkling eyes, and expressions. Some are reptiles, some are like big rats, and some are like big worms. Everything is uncomfortable and hostile. When Andrew walked through the door with an aura of energy and touched them, they fled. They emit a small murmur that Andrew would never hear with his ears – but a third eye can see them in full view.

There was a long, dark corridor filled with all sorts of things. Andrew remained quiet and moved slowly, squirming, crawling, seeping in the route Andrew was going to take. The dark purple magical light that Andrew had seen outside the house was ahead, and it was getting brighter and brighter. Andrew hears the music and hears that it's the same tune that Hermione had put on the CD last Thursday when she called Andrew to the suite to investigate. Slow, sensual music with a steady tempo.

Andrew closed his eyes for a moment, listening to the music. Andrew heard voices. A whisper kept repeating itself, a man chanting a spell over and over again, assembling a spell ready to cast. This man must be Philip. Andrew also heard the woman's soft gasp, was it the Betsettes? Andrew thought that was the only possibility.

In addition, Andrew could feel a constant low whistle from the soles of his boots, and Andrew could hear thunder on the other side of the sea. The muffled chant exuded brutal, vicious satisfaction, and the incantation continued.

Andrew gathered all his energy and walked around the corner, stepping out of the hallway into a spacious room that rose several yards up unhindered. Below the room is a living room, with a spiral staircase spiraling upwards to what looks like a kitchen and dining room, just above the room what looks like a landing or a middle of a building. The raised open-air balcony at the back of the house presumably leads to this platform.

There wasn't half a person in the big room, the D-turntable was in the room below, and the music was coming from the loudspeakers overwhelmed by the Hokage and dozens of swollen and disgusting creatures that lived on it. Andrew saw the influence of the music ripple like a faint purple haze with the light falling from the top of the platform. It is an intricate ritual of spells, with Philip, the wizard in the center, bringing in and reconciling many of the essential elements. Attaboy. No wonder this spell is so effective. Philip must have had to go through a lot of trials to get it done.

Andrew glanced up at the platform and walked across the room, as far away from the CD as possible. Andrew slipped silently underneath the platform, piles of slimy spirits seeping along the path Andrew was going through. Outside, the rain had become heavier, sending a low, steady rhythm on the rooftops, wooden balconies, and windows. There are boxes piled up everywhere, including plastic boxes, cardboard boxes, corrugated boxes and wooden boxes. Andrew opened the closest box and looked at the contents, hundreds of slender potion bottles, all containing the three-eye liquid that Andrew had seen before. Under Andrew's third eye's vision, the potion looked quite different, viscous and cloudy, and each vial contained a hidden calamity. Faces twisted with fear and pain wandered through each bottle, and they were all ghostly images anyway.

Andrew looked at the other boxes. One of the chests contained an ancient potion bottle filled with a faintly green glow. Andrew leaned over and sniffed, almost smelling the madness lurking in the liquid. Andrew didn't start, his stomach churning. Andrew quickly checked several other boxes. There was a Peot palm in a Tupperware plastic box reminiscent of St Munck's Hospital and Muggle psychiatric hospital, which Andrew was familiar with, white powdered alum, and a large plastic bag filled with hundreds of bottles of metallic antifreeze. There were other things in the darker corners, but Andrew didn't have time to look at them all. Andrew had already thought about what these items could be used for.

Used to make potions.

That's the ingredient for the potion, which Philip used to make the three-eye medicine. It's the same way Andrew made Andrew's little potions, except that it's quite large, using energy stolen from other places and people. He started with absinthe as an excipient, and then started to develop it. Philip produced the equivalent of magic potions in large quantities, and the liquid, which might have remained inert, interacted with the emotions and desires of the person who took it when ingested into the human body. This would explain why Andrew had never noticed such a thing before. A cursory examination alone does not reveal the reason, and it is necessary to concentrate on the third eye, which is not something that Andrew often does.

Andrew shuddered and closed his eyes. The third eye allows Andrew to see too many things, and this ability is the problem. Andrew kept looking at the herbs and the finished potion, and then captured the painful afterimage of these things. That's really enough. Andrew is starting to hate this place.