The hunters' laughter had not even faded yet.
The temperature inside the tavern suddenly plummeted.
It was already the end of October, and the Blackwater Corridor was already biting cold.
Light snow had even begun to fall over Whitestone City.
But the chill at this moment was different.
It was a sinister, bone-deep cold.
The five hunters choked back their laughter almost simultaneously and leaped to their feet.
Back-to-back, they instantly formed a defensive ring.
The scar-faced assassin's eyes were as sharp as daggers.
His perception spread out like an invisible spiderweb.
It swept through every corner of the tavern, penetrated the walls, and extended to the streets outside.
Once, twice.
There was nothing.
No energy fluctuations, no breathing, no heartbeats.
Not even a rat.
“How is it, Boss?”
The Ranger asked in a hushed whisper, his fingers already resting on his bowstring.
The scar-faced assassin frowned and slowly withdrew his senses.
He shook his head.
“No one.”
He walked back to the campfire, sat down, and shrugged with forced nonchalance.
“It's probably just the weather turning cold.”
“The Final Month is almost here, so a drop in temperature is normal.”
The man carrying the net relaxed slightly and sat down as well.
“Boss, where do you think the Dark Tide will break out this time?”
He scratched his head, curiosity in his voice.
“When I was coming over, I heard rumors from the people in the City of Bounties saying it'll be inside the Wall of Sighs.”
“Apparently, some blood demons went in and kidnapped Cass the Demon Hunter.”
“They're looking for some Demon King, wanting to awaken that Demigod... to trigger another Silent End.”
As he spoke, his voice grew quieter.
“To be honest, I think... we were a bit reckless coming in this time.”
“Or maybe...”
The scar-faced assassin gave him a cold look.
His gaze was like icicles.
The net-carrying man immediately shut his mouth and shrank back.
“Hmph.”
The scar-faced assassin sneered and tossed a piece of firewood into the fire.
“Demons entering the Wall of Sighs? People say that every year.”
“Do you see the dwarves reacting? They haven't done a damn thing.”
“I've been running goods here for over a decade. I've heard these rumors so many times I've got calluses on my ears.”
“The Wall of Sighs has stood for sixteen years, and the Dark Tide has broken out eight times.”
“If they were going to do something, they would've done it long ago. Why wait until now?”
He spat.
“Those bounty hunters have courage smaller than mice.”
“They start crying and screaming the moment they hear a whisper of wind.”
“It serves them right that they can only stay here and earn the dwarves' measly pocket change.”
The net-carrying man nodded with a sycophantic grin.
“Exactly. What we make in one run is enough for those guys to live on for several lifetimes.”
The scar-faced man curled his lip but didn't reply.
He turned his head to look out the window.
Light snow was falling again, and the sky was a gloomy gray.
“Alright, cut the chatter.”
He stood up and brushed the dust off his leather armor.
“Hurry up and rest. We need to reach Shadowmoon City before dark.”
“We can't keep our 'esteemed guests' waiting.”
He glanced at the two frail old men in the corner, his tone growing a fraction colder.
“These two old geezers won't last much longer.”
“If they kick the bucket halfway there...”
He didn't finish, but his meaning was crystal clear.
The Ranger's face darkened as well, and he instinctively touched the potion pouch at his waist.
He recalled the invisible yet omnipresent 'things' they had encountered along the way.
Those spectral demons that would whisper and sigh in one's ears.
Even a hardened hunter like him, who lived with his head on the line, couldn't help but shudder.
Faced with those entities, they were like babies in swaddling clothes.
Utterly defenseless.
Even with potions to resist the mist and a guide to lead the way,
this journey was still nerve-wracking.
They would rather venture into a forbidden zone crawling with terrifying demons than set foot in this dreadful place ever again.
The group stopped talking and quickly packed their gear.
The campfire was stamped out, leaving only smoldering embers rising in thin wisps of blue smoke.
The two old men were roughly hauled to their feet, stumbling along behind them.
Just as they pushed open the ruined door of the tavern and were about to step out into the snow,
a broken brick suddenly fell from a beam on the second floor.
It came hurtling straight for the back of the scar-faced assassin's head.
The assassin's eyes turned cold, but he didn't even turn his head.
Reaching back, he caught the brick squarely in his palm.
The movement was so fluid it seemed as if he had anticipated it.
In the next instant, his figure vanished on the spot.
When he reappeared, he was clinging to the opposite stone wall like a gecko.
The poisoned dagger in his hand transformed into a streak of eerie green light, pointing toward the direction the brick had come from.
And he stabbed out fiercely!
Pfft!
Before the dagger even touched the wall, its sharp energy had already pierced through the stone,
leaving a hole the size of a bowl.
Debris showered down.
The ferocious, murderous intent on the assassin's face lasted for only a fraction of a second
before giving way to astonishment.
Behind the hole...
there was only the empty second floor and drifting dust.
There was no one, no presence, not even a trace of warmth.
He narrowed his eyes and carefully swept his senses through the area several more times.
Ultimately, he flipped down and landed on the floor.
His expression was dark and filled with confusion.
There was nothing. Could it really have been an accident?
After pondering for a moment, the assassin brushed aside his doubts.
Perhaps it really was just a loose brick from years of neglect.
“...Let's go.”
Without another word, he sheathed his dagger and turned to step out into the wind and snow.
The others exchanged looks and quickly followed.
The two old men were dragged along, vanishing down the end of the street.
The tavern returned to a dead silence.
.......
High up in the tavern's air,
upon the staff enveloped by the Shroud of the Gloomy Night,
Eve leaned gently against Lin Gui's back, her hands resting on his shoulders.
She peeked out from behind his shoulder, her violet eyes shining with curiosity.
“Did you do that?”
Lin Gui stared at the retreating figures of the hunters as they vanished into the mist.
“No.”
Eve arched an eyebrow.
She followed Lin Gui's gaze, looking toward those fading silhouettes.
“I thought you would make a move against them.”
Lin Gui turned his head slightly.
“Why did you think that?”
Eve smiled, her gaze resting on the side of Lin Gui's face.
“Because you feel sympathy. You have a soft heart.”
“Like those compassionate priests and benevolent, righteous knights in stories.”
“You would get angry and even draw your weapon for complete strangers.”
Her voice was soft, yet clear.
“Just like how, to deliver these... long-severed feelings,”
“you were willing to cross the Silent Sea and venture into the Wall of Sighs.”
Lin Gui fell silent for a moment.
He tilted his head and looked into Eve's eyes.
“What about you?”
“Do you also feel a soft spot?”
“Do you also get angry at the injustice, discrimination, and wicked people right before your eyes?”
“My dear Saintess of the Holy Church of Light?”
Eve's expression froze for an instant.
She seemingly hadn't expected Lin Gui to ask such a question.
Then, the corners of her mouth twitched into a faint, bitter smile.
“In this world... good people don't survive.”
Her voice was very quiet, as if she were merely stating a long-accepted truth.
“I once saw a Holy Saint who spoke out for the commoners, only to be nailed to a burning stake by those very same people.”
“I have also seen revolutions striving for equality buried silently beneath the earth.”
She paused, her eyelashes drooping.
“Within the church... I have seen far too much.”
“So much that... I forgot how to feel anger long ago.”
As she said this, she had already braced herself in her heart.
She was prepared to face Lin Gui's usual coldness or mockery.
She even peeked upward slightly, hoping to catch that expected indifference on his face.
However,
what she saw was a smile.
The corners of Lin Gui's mouth curved up slightly.
It was a very faint smile, yet exceptionally clear.
Like a ray of sunlight piercing through a crack in the dark clouds.
There was no mockery, no aloofness.
Instead, it carried a warmth... that was almost bright.
Eve was stunned.
She had never seen such an expression on Lin Gui's face before.
She had seen him cold, weary, cynical, playful, relaxed, and helpless.
But she had never seen him smile like this—as if he still believed in something.
In that instant, she even forgot to breathe.
She could only stare at him blankly.
Staring at that smile as if gazing upon an illusion that shouldn't exist.
Rate on N.U.
