Chapter 174: The Magician

Red Fox Castle, rear courtyard.

“Welcome back, Lu En Young Master.”

“Don’t call me Young Master. I don’t belong here.” The magician said coldly.

He spun around sharply, and upon seeing the elderly man before him—his beard and hair utterly white, his body withered beyond recognition—his icy expression softened slightly.

“Uncle Seris, your face has so many wrinkles now.”

Lu En’s voice carried a touch of sorrow.

Seeing the once towering figure who had raised him reduced to this state, Lu En felt a disorienting sense of time lost.

“It’s been nearly twenty years since you temporarily left home,” Seris said gently, bowing respectfully to the magician.

Lu En wanted to refute that this wasn’t his home, but gazing at the old steward’s weathered face, his lips moved several times, yet no words came out.

“Lu En, my lord, Lady Martha deeply wishes to see you. She asked me to convey this: would you accept the invitation of a sister who has waited twenty years for her brother?”

Seris whispered, his increasingly clouded eyes revealing a clear, visible plea.

It seemed that for this man, who had only a few years left to live, hoping for the reunion of these siblings was his final wish.

“Take me there.”

Lu En stood motionless for a long while, then, moved by the fond memories of the man who had raised him, reluctantly agreed.

Main house, reception hall.

A massive crystal chandelier hung from the tall arched ceiling, its prisms splitting candlelight into countless fragments, casting shifting shadows across the dark red velvet curtains.

The fireplace burned with roaring flames; pine logs cracked in the heat, filling the air with the warm, resinous scent of burning wood.

Upon seeing the elderly woman standing quietly before the wall, gazing at the world-famous painting “The Knight’s Final Whisper,” even Lu En, long since transformed into a demon, felt a flicker of unease.

“You’ve come, Lu En.”

Hearing the door open and footsteps, Rosa stepped out of the painting’s reverie, turned, and upon seeing the handsome young man in the black top hat, her deeply lined face broke into a smile.

“Sit down.”

The two sat before the sofa; a maid brought them two cups of Dusk Tea.

“This is the finest Dusk Tea. Try some,” Rosa said softly.

Lu En gently swirled his cup; the tea within glowed a deep dusk-purple, as if condensed from the last ray of twilight.

He took a small sip, and a familiar flavor surged onto his tongue.

The taste was identical to the tea he had often drunk as a child—could the man who rejected him, imprisoned him, and saw him as a family disgrace really have spared such precious tea for him?

Lu En froze. He knew that even for the Martha family, which ruled the entire Southern Region, the finest Dusk Tea remained an exceedingly rare treasure.

Thinking of this, the magician’s icy expression gradually softened.

“After all these years, I never imagined you’d look exactly as you did when you left—while I’ve become an old woman.”

Martha gazed at Lu En’s youthful face and sighed.

Lu En opened his mouth to explain, but Martha shook her head to stop him.

“I know you carry many secrets. But I don’t wish to uncover them.”

“To me, you’re simply my brother, returned home after a long journey. Nothing more.” Martha said calmly.

Lu En fell silent. He wanted to say something, but ultimately said nothing.

His feelings toward this biological sister—whom he had met only a few times—were deeply complex.

On one hand, he was grateful and respectful toward her, for it was her covert protection that allowed the circus, composed entirely of deformed people and led by the one-eyed monster Ma Xiu, to tour freely across the Southern Region.

Even the Martha family crest on his person had been secretly delivered to him by her eldest nephew, Luo Yi.

But on the other hand, because of that man, he could not accept his own bloodline or surname, and thus had always avoided this sister.

“Would you like to visit the former marquis’s tomb?”

Seeing his silence, Rosa hesitated, then spoke.

To avoid upsetting her brother, she dared not even utter the word “father.”

Lu En said nothing, only gave the faintest nod—yet it was enough to make Rosa beam.

“Let’s go.”

After finishing their tea, the two rose and walked out of the reception hall together, yet still kept a considerable distance between them.

Rear courtyard cemetery.

Beneath the bright moon, rows of gray-white tombstones stood neatly in the misty grass.

Rosa led Lu En through the graves, finally stopping before a tombstone taller than the others.

“Here it is. All past Martha lords are buried here—including me, when my time comes,” Rosa whispered.

Then, gazing at the vibrant violet violets blooming before the last tombstone, the old woman’s eyes grew distant.

How fast these flowers have grown!

She had planted them only recently.

Leo, are you watching over these violets from beyond?

But Lu En did not notice her distraction—his entire gaze was fixed on the inscription of the second-to-last tombstone.

“Eleventh Lord of the Martha Clan, Luo Feng Martha—a father who failed his child.”

Lu En stared at the final line, his violet-gold eyes filled with disbelief.

A father who failed his child… was this referring to me?

That cold-blooded, hateful man, who imprisoned him and saw him as a family disgrace—could he possibly feel guilt?

The magician’s heart churned; memories surged like a swarm of fluttering butterflies.

He was born into the noblest family of the Southern Region, yet his marquis father saw him as a calamity and a disgrace.

The reason: his innate twin eyes—purple and gold, an ill omen—and the fact that his birth, due to difficult labor, had killed his mother.

Thus, his father erased all traces of him; no one knew the Martha lady had left behind a son.

He was not even granted the Martha surname, nor did he bear the “Luo” prefix like other direct-line relatives.

As an infant, he was left alone in the rear courtyard, cared for only by an old maid and the occasional visits of the steward.

He had no right to leave the courtyard, so as a child, he would lie helplessly beneath the great oak tree in the center, staring up at the dense canopy, lost in idle thoughts.

That man visited him roughly once a year—each time, he would glare coldly for a few moments, leave some food or toys, then turn and leave.

Fortunately, the steward once brought him a book on magic; he devoured it, lost in wonder, and thus his childhood passed in endless magical practice—a single glimmer of light in the gloom.

Later, when he was eight, upon learning his biological sister was to be married, perhaps out of loneliness, or perhaps because he had spent too long confined in that tiny courtyard, he begged the steward to sneak him out to attend the wedding—just to see his sister, even from afar.

Miraculously, the steward agreed.

He put on an eye patch to cover his right eye, then rushed excitedly to the wedding.

A stunning violet-haired girl in a wedding gown, a tall, heroic young man—when he saw them walking hand in hand, he felt immense pride, and longed to shout to everyone: “That’s my sister and brother-in-law—I’m their brother!”

But he couldn’t. Instead, he performed magic tricks for the guests, hoping to draw their attention.

He succeeded. The guests laughed heartily at the adorable boy in the eye patch; even his sister covered her mouth and smiled, taking his hand to bring him candy.

His sister’s hand was so warm.

It was the happiest day of his childhood. But soon, during his performance, his eye patch slipped off, revealing his radiant gold right eye.

The guests stared in shock; some whispered, noting his left eye—the same violet as the bride’s.

The Martha marquis arrived in a rage, seized him by the collar, and threw him back into the rear courtyard, forbidding him ever to leave again.

Yet even so, he was content.

For that brief, beautiful memory was enough to sustain him through the empty years that followed.

Years passed. He grew into a handsome youth, received the blessing of Our God, and became a Variant Occupation: True Magician.

And on that day, that man died.

His sister, now the new Martha marquis, came to the courtyard with a face full of guilt. She said: “Lu En, you are free now. I will tell everyone you are my brother—you are a member of the Martha Clan.”

She reached out to embrace him, but the boy gently pushed her away.

“I have never been a member of the Martha Clan,” he said calmly.

Years of solitary life had erased the last trace of his identification with the Martha name.

He denied his bloodline. He was not Lu En Martha—he was merely Lu En, a common magician, nothing more.

Moreover, he had already found his ideal: to establish a circus, to shelter those rejected by the world, to give them a home, a warm, lively family—named the Monster Circus.

“My lady, thank you for granting me freedom.”

He bowed elegantly, then dissolved into fluttering petals, leaving the courtyard that had bound him for so long.

Afterward came over twenty years of wandering. He gradually gathered a group of beloved companions and family—on some level, he had become a father himself.

Memories ended abruptly.

Only then did Lu En notice the old woman beside him, staring blankly at the blooming violets before the last tombstone.

The tale of Crimson Flame and Martha’s only daughter was known throughout the Southern Region—he could easily guess who lay beneath that stone.

For the knight who sacrificed his life to lift grain taxes and save all the people of the Southern Region—the greatest knight in history—Lu En felt deep respect, perhaps even the greatest admiration he had ever held.

He could never be such a man, but he could admire him.

In the past, he had sometimes even taken pride in the fact that Crimson Flame had been his brother-in-law.

Thinking of this, Lu En hesitated long, then used a magical trick to conjure a thick woolen cloak, gently draping it over the old woman’s shoulders.

“I believe, if Crimson Flame still lived, he would not wish to see his wife standing alone before his tomb in the cold night wind,” Lu En whispered.

Rosa pulled the cloak tighter, warmth spreading over her, and a trace of emotion surfaced on her weathered face.

"My younger brother"

“Wait!”

She was just about to speak when Lu En, his body tensing at the word, interrupted her.

“Not yet. I don’t want to hear that word right now,” the magician said hesitantly.

“It doesn’t matter—I’ve waited twenty years for you; a few more days won’t make a difference,” Rosa smiled faintly.

I only ask that before I join Leo in the Underworld, I hear you call me sister.

Rosa silently added this in her heart.

The two then left the graveyard together, but beneath the moonlight, the distance between their shadows was clearly much closer than when they had set out.

They really did look like brother and sister.

Hall of Starfire.

Beneath the crystal dome, twelve prismatic pillars rose from the bronze earth, their torches blazing fiercely.

A torch flame carried a figure with black hair into the hall, and the three who had been waiting there all showed expressions of joy.

“Your Highness, good evening.” x3

“Good evening,” Xia Mingyu said gently.

At the same time, he felt a touch of helplessness—he had slept straight from morning until deep night, and now he was still asleep.

“Your Highness, yesterday, did you summon Tamerlan across space to come and slay your enemies for you?”

As soon as he sat down at the bronze table, Hagekes blurted out the question.

After Xia Mingyu gave a slight nod in confirmation, the giant, whom all in the Slave Capital regarded as a heroic figure from the age of gods, now wore a deep look of disappointment on his heroic face.

He believed the reason His Highness summoned Tamerlan but not him must lie in himself—perhaps he was too weak, too fearsome-looking, or couldn’t speak well.

“Cough, cough—Hagekes, next time I face enemies, you’ll be the one to hold them off for me.”

Seeing Hagekes’s dejected expression, Xia Mingyu guessed what he was thinking and softly reassured him.

The next instant, Hagekes’s pupils shrank sharply, then blazed with brilliant light.

His head, which had hung low like a withered branch, snapped up; his burning gaze locked onto Xia Mingyu on the throne, and he cried out:

“My liege, I swear by the gods: when you summon me, I will crush your enemies into blood mist. Anyone who dares harm you must first cross over my corpse twelve times!”

(End of Chapter)