Rosily poked her head out of the carriage window and saw her mother standing at the door, waiting for her.
She excitedly waved at Enya.
She couldn’t wait to throw herself into her mother’s arms!
When Enya saw Rosily, she also waved gently in response, then quietly stood at the courtyard gate, watching as the carriage slowly came to a halt.
But before the carriage had even stopped, the young girl had already slipped out of the compartment.
She stood at the doorway and leapt outside, landing lightly and then quickly running toward Enya.
Enya was surprised by her daughter’s enthusiasm.
Clearly, they’d only been apart for half a day, yet she hurriedly opened her arms and caught Rosily as she rushed in.
She pretended to take a step or two back.
Enya reached out and stroked the girl’s soft hair, her eyes full of affection.
“How was school today, little Rosily?”
“Mm…”
Burying her face in Enya’s embrace and inhaling a deep breath tinged with her mother’s scent, Rosily finally lifted her head to look at Enya.
She put on a thoughtful, summarizing expression and, after pondering for a moment, the girl broke into a sweet smile and said, “Not good~”
“…”
Hearing her daughter’s words, Enya narrowed her eyes slightly at Rosily, but she didn’t say anything to lecture her about life.
She simply reached out and pinched that soft, doughy little face, then looked up at the butler who had brought Rosily home and politely thanked him.
“Madam, it’s my duty.”
The butler smiled faintly.
Along the way, Rosily had asked him many questions, and now he understood just how clever and quick-witted this little girl was.
After doffing his hat in salute, he turned and got back into the carriage to leave.
Watching the carriage fade into the distance, Enya turned back and cupped Rosily’s adorable little cheeks, saying, “Alright, alright, let’s go inside. I was just about to start making dinner—I didn’t expect you to be back so early.”
“Then let me help!”
Rosily blinked her bright eyes, let go, and was the first to dash into the house.
The way she hopped in with every few steps was irresistibly cute, and Enya couldn’t help but smile from the heart.
Dinner, a bath, and then off to bed.
But tonight, it wasn’t Enya telling the bedtime story—it was Rosily who started recounting her experiences at school.
She shared many small and detailed things, but never once mentioned the fight with Yelena.
Rosily didn’t want her mother to worry about her.
Enya only sneaked out after Rosily had fallen asleep.
She stood in the courtyard, looking at the herbs that had already sprouted, and murmured to herself.
“Seedlings have to get their own nutrients to grow. All I have to do is drive away the rats and bugs that gnaw on them, whether it’s Rosily, or this city…”
…
In the Outer District Slums, inside a dark and dilapidated room, a dozen or so sallow, thin people sat in a circle, craning their necks toward the center with all their might.
In the very center sat a finely crafted ceramic incense burner.
Wisps of bluish-white smoke drifted from its holes, and the smoke was being inhaled through the mouths and noses of the people gathered around.
Their bodies were shriveled like withered husks, but their eyes were filled with crazed intoxication.
At the same time, their parched lips moved constantly, as if reciting some incantation.
Their voices were perfectly synchronized, like puppets controlled by a single hand.
The smoke kept pouring into their mouths and noses, but never came back out.
Suddenly, the whole group fell silent, collapsing limply as if their bones had been extracted.
If an ordinary person witnessed this bizarre scene, they would surely faint from fright.
But there was one exception among them—a Gray Robed Man.
When he noticed the change in his surroundings, his heart skipped a beat and he sprang to his feet.
His eyes darted around beneath his hood, his body trembling uncontrollably.
“Who? Who’s there? Come out!”
Terrified, he tried to shout to bolster his courage, but it had no effect at all.
The man realized the darkness around him was growing deeper and deeper.
The people who’d been sitting on the outer circle now seemed to be swallowed by a tide of blackness, and he stared in horror.
His legs moved before his mind did.
In a panic, the man shoved the door open and ran outside.
Faced with such a bizarre situation, who cared if he ran into a patrolling City Guard Knight? The only thing to do was run!
He fled through the alleys, but as he ran, he suddenly realized something was wrong—there was no one here… In this vast gathering place for the poor, where had everyone gone?
He didn’t have time to think.
In his panic, he dashed toward the main street, now just hoping to run into a City Guard Knight.
But when he reached the main road, he found there wasn’t a single patrolling knight in sight!
There wasn’t even a night breeze.
The sky was pitch black, like a deep, endless sea pressing down, suffocating him.
Shivering, the man stared wide-eyed at the sky.
Whoosh—the black river poured down.
He screamed in terror, his legs giving out as he collapsed to the ground, barely managing to turn over and crawl away.
Back in that room, Enya kicked over the incense burner with a single jio.
This burner was pure evil.
It was carved with “Clouds and Mist Entwined,” but within the mist, a group of people were depicted indulging in various pleasures.
Several of their faces closely resembled those lying here in the room.
It wasn’t people smoking the incense—it was the smoke devouring people!
She looked down at the man convulsing in terror from his nightmare and couldn’t help but curl her lip.
“Cultists these days have such low standards?”
Enya had roamed the world for many years and seen all sorts of crazy, suicidal cultists.
But rarely had she encountered one who was so frightened by a bizarre scene that he wet himself.
But ever since she’d reached the eighth rank, these troublemaking cults had suddenly gone quiet.
Who knew why.
Enya bent down, pinched a bit of ash from the incense burner, and brought it to her nose for a sniff.
It was just a blend of common herbs.
With a wave of magic, she shaped her power into a blade and split the burner in two.
Inside, she saw a patch of extremely complex ancient script carved into the ceramic.
The history was too long, the scripts too varied, and Enya couldn’t tell which era it belonged to.
She could only put it away for now, then turned her gaze to the man whose soul was trapped in a nightmare.
She reached out her hand, palm down, and softly chanted, “Data upload, data download.”
Enya turned her palm over, and a book as thick as a finger materialized in her hand.
She grabbed it without hesitation and started flipping through it.
The “Library” could record objects, and even souls.
Through this, Enya could examine a person’s entire life—though it was a rather unorthodox use of the power.
“Gro, male, forty-seven… Began worshipping the Lord of Mist a year ago. Was sent to Red pine City by an elder to spread the Lord of Mist’s faith…”
This man’s soul was battered and incomplete—much of his memory had been erased.
The bluish-white smoke must have been sucking away their souls.
In an instant, Enya found herself standing above Red pine City, gazing down at the city as a question surfaced in her mind.
Why did the faith of the Lord of Mist dare to spread here?