Chapter 91

Ninety-Eight, The Brother Who Absorbs Light, His Righteous Qi

“I am a failure; I barely notice whether the sunlight is brilliant or not, because I have no time.”

“My parents couldn’t support me, my education was low, and I wandered alone in the city searching for a future.”

“I applied for many jobs but was never hired—perhaps no one liked someone who couldn’t speak well, avoided interaction, and showed no sufficient ability.”

To read the latest chapter, download the app for ad-free, free access to new content. The website no longer updates new chapters; all updates are on StarText Reader app.

“I ate only two slices of bread over three full days; hunger kept me awake at night. Fortunately, I’d paid a month’s rent in advance, so I could still stay in that dark basement, avoiding the bitterly cold winter winds outside.”

“Finally, I got a job—night watch at the hospital, guarding the morgue.”

“The hospital nights were colder than I imagined; the corridor wall lamps were unlit, everything was dim, and I could barely see my feet by the faint glow seeping from the rooms.”

“The smell was unbearable; corpses in body bags kept arriving, and we helped carry them into the morgue.”

“It wasn’t a good job, but at least it let me buy bread, and my free nights could be used for studying—after all, few wanted to come to the morgue unless a corpse needed moving or burning. Still, I couldn’t afford books, and I saw no hope of saving money.”

“I owe thanks to my predecessor—if he hadn’t quit suddenly, I might never have gotten even this job.”

“I dreamed of switching to day shifts; now I sleep when the sun rises and wake when night falls, leaving me weak and occasionally giving me sharp headaches.”

“One day, a laborer brought in a new corpse.”

“Others said it was my former colleague who had quit so suddenly.”

“I was curious about him. After everyone left, I pulled out the drawer and quietly opened the body bag.”

“He was an old man, his face bluish-white, covered in wrinkles, terrifying under the dim light.”

“He had little hair, mostly white; all his clothes had been removed, not even a scrap of fabric left on him.”

Website updates slowly; download to read the latest chapters.

“I saw a strange mark on his chest—dark bluish-black, its exact shape I couldn’t describe, the light was too dim.”

“I touched the mark—it felt nothing special.”

“Looking at my former colleague, I wondered: if I keep going like this, when I’m old, will I end up like him…?”

“I told him: tomorrow I’ll accompany you to the crematorium and personally take your ashes to the nearest free cemetery, so those in charge won’t get lazy and dump you by some river or wasteland.”

“It’ll cost me one morning’s sleep, but it’s almost Sunday—I can make it up.”

“After saying that, I sealed the body bag and slid it back into the drawer.”

“The room’s light seemed to grow even darker…”

“Since that day, every time I sleep, I dream of thick fog.”

“I sense something is about to happen—I feel something, perhaps not even human, will come for me soon. But no one believes me; they think the environment and my job have broken my mind, that I need a doctor…”

A male customer seated at the bar looked at the storyteller who had suddenly fallen silent:

“And then?”

The man was in his thirties, wearing a brown tweed jacket and light-yellow trousers, his hair flattened, a simple dark round hat beside him.

He looked ordinary, like most in the tavern—black hair, pale blue eyes, neither ugly nor handsome, lacking any striking features.

To him, the storyteller was a young man of eighteen or nineteen, tall and slender, with short black hair and pale blue eyes, his features sharp enough to catch the eye.

The young man stared at his empty glass and sighed:

“And then?”

Download to read the latest chapters.

“Then I quit and returned to the countryside, to come here and tell you tall tales.”

As he spoke, a mischievous smile spread across his face.

The male customer blinked in surprise:

“You were just making all that up?”

Laughter erupted around the bar.

As the laughter subsided, a thin middle-aged man gazed at the embarrassed guest:

“Foreigner, you actually believed Lumi’an’s story? He tells a different one every day—yesterday he was a poor fool whose fiancée broke off their engagement; today he’s a corpse watcher!”

“Yeah, blabbering nonsense about thirty years east of the Sailunzuo River, thirty years south of it—nothing but gibberish!” added another regular.

They were all farmers from the large village of Kerdou, dressed in short jackets of black, gray, or brown.

The black-haired young man called Lumi’an pushed himself up from the bar with both hands, smiling:

“You know, these aren’t my stories—they’re written by my sister. She loves writing, and she’s even a columnist for ‘The Novel Weekly.’”

He turned to the foreign guest, spread his hands, and grinned brightly:

“Looks like she writes well.”

“Sorry for misleading you.”

The man in the brown tweed jacket, ordinary in appearance, didn’t get angry—he stood and smiled back:

“A fascinating story.”

“What’s your name?”

“Isn’t it common sense to introduce yourself before asking someone else’s?” Lumi’an chuckled.

The foreign guest nodded:

“I’m Ryan Koss.”

“These two are my companions, Valentin and Liya.”

He meant the man and woman sitting beside him.

The man was twenty-seven or twenty-eight, his blond hair lightly dusted with powder, his eyes a shade darker than lake blue, dressed in a white vest, a blue fine wool coat, and black trousers—clearly dressed with care for going out.

He looked cold, barely glancing at the farmers and herders around him.

The woman appeared younger than the two men, her pale gray hair tied into an intricate bun, covered by a white veil as a hat.

Her eyes matched her hair, fixed on Lumi’an with unhidden amusement, clearly finding the earlier exchange entertaining.

Under the tavern’s gas wall lamps, the woman named Liya revealed a pert nose and elegantly curved lips—undoubtedly a beauty in the rural village of Kerdou.

She wore a white, pleatless cashmere dress, a cream-colored short coat, and Ma Xier boots; silver bells were tied to both her veil and boots, jingling as she entered the tavern, drawing every man’s gaze.

In their eyes, this was the kind of fashion only found in big cities like Bigor or the capital, Teriel.

Lumi’an nodded to the three outsiders:

“I’m Lumi’an Li. You can just call me Lumi’an.”

“Li?” Liya blurted out.

“What’s wrong with my surname?” Lumi’an asked curiously.

Ryan Koss explained for her:

“That surname frightens me—I almost lost control of my voice just now.”

Seeing the farmers and herders puzzled, he added:

“Anyone who’s dealt with sailors or merchants knows this saying across the Five Seas:

“Better to face pirate admirals or kings than to meet a man named Frank Li.”

“His surname is also Li.”

“Is he that terrifying?” Lumi’an asked.

Ryan shook his head:

“I don’t know, but if such a legend exists, he must be formidable.”

He dropped the subject and turned to Lumi’an:

“Thank you for the story—it deserves a drink. What would you like?”

“A ‘Green Fairy,’” Lumi’an said without hesitation, sitting back down.

Ryan frowned slightly:

“‘Green Fairy’… absinthe?”

“I should warn you—absinthe is harmful. It can cause madness and hallucinations.”

“I didn’t realize Teriel’s trends had reached here,” Liya added with a smile.

Lumi’an “oh”ed:

“So Teriel people like ‘Green Fairy’ too…”

“For us, life is hard enough—we don’t need to care about a little more harm. This drink lets our minds truly relax.”

“Alright,” Ryan sat back, signaling the bartender. “One ‘Green Fairy,’ and one ‘Spicy Heart’ for me.”

“Spicy Heart” was a famous fruit brandy.

“Why not give me a ‘Green Fairy’ too? I was the one who told you the truth—I can tell you everything about this kid!” the thin middle-aged man who first exposed Lumi’an’s daily lies shouted, “Foreigners, I can tell you still doubt whether the story’s real!”

“Pierre, you’d do anything just to get a free drink!” Lumi’an called back.

Before Ryan could respond, Lumi’an added:

“Why can’t I tell it myself? Then I’d get another ‘Green Fairy’!”

“Because they don’t know whether to believe you,” Pierre grinned smugly. “Your sister’s favorite story for kids is ‘The Boy Who Cried Wolf’—a liar loses all credibility.”

“Fine,” Lumi’an shrugged, watching the bartender slide a pale green drink before him.

Ryan looked at him, asking:

“Is that okay?”

“Sure, as long as your wallet can cover the drinks,” Lumi’an said carelessly.

“Then another ‘Green Fairy,’” Ryan nodded.

Pierre’s face lit up with a grin.

"Generous outsider, this boy is the village's most mischievous troublemaker—you must keep your distance from him."

"Five years ago, his sister Auror brought him back to the village, and he hasn't left since. Think about it—he was only thirteen before that. How could he possibly have worked as a corpse watcher in a hospital? The nearest hospital to us is Daliere at the foot of the mountain; it takes a full afternoon to walk there."

"Brought back to the village?" Liya asked sharply.

She tilted her head slightly, producing a jingling sound.

Pierre nodded:

To read the latest chapter, please download—the app offers free, ad-free access to the latest content. The website no longer updates with new chapters.

"Then he took his sister's surname 'Li,' and even his name 'Lumian' was given by Auror."

"I've forgotten what he was originally called," Lumian said with a grin, sipping absinthe.

He showed no shame or embarrassment at having his past so openly revealed.