Chapter 9: Magazine

Night.

After dealing with the neighbor who came to borrow the oven, Lumian went upstairs and entered the room serving as his study.

In Kerdou Village, many poor families lacked ovens or large stoves; when they needed to bake bread or smoke meat, they had to borrow them from others and use them on the spot.

On this matter, Aurora had always been open-minded and generous—anyone could borrow, as long as they paid for the fuel or brought their own coal or wood.

At this moment, she had changed into her white silk nightgown and was curled up in an armchair, intently reading the book in her hands under the bright battery-powered desk lamp.

Lumian did not disturb her; he casually pulled a thin book from the shelf and sat down in a corner chair.

“The Veil of Secrecy”… What kind of magazine is this? Lumian glanced at the cover covered in strange symbols, a flicker of doubt rising in his mind.

He flipped through it quickly, growing more astonished with each page.

This magazine discussed the forms of human souls, the animism of all things, and how to communicate secretly with different spirits to gain varied assistance…

Even though his faith was not devout, even if he only followed the crowd by visiting the Church of the Eternal Sun for occasional prayers or Mass, two words flashed uncontrollably through Lumian’s mind:

“Blasphemy!”

“Taboo!”

Although Aurora, as a witch who would be burned by the Religious Inquisition if exposed, naturally kept similar books at home, Lumian had clearly seen that this magazine bore the government’s publishing permit!

Could such a thing be published openly?

Wasn’t censorship always extremely strict?

Or was this permit forged…? Lumian looked up, gazing at Aurora, and asked:

“Is this a banned magazine?”

Aurora tore her gaze from the book, glanced briefly at her brother, and said indifferently:

“It used to be—classified as underground literature—but somehow it passed censorship and was officially published. Even the Church of the Eternal Sun didn’t object; they just allowed it.”

“Literature?” Lumian didn’t quite understand her wording.

“Of course it’s literature—do you actually believe it?” Aurora laughed. “If it were true, do you think it could be published? If you tried following its methods, you’d only weaken your mind and become neurotic—no extra gains. Hmm… sometimes you might get a sliver of truth, but without the proper ritual language, any attempt is useless.”

This was the evaluation of a professional witch.

“Alright…” Lumian couldn’t hide his disappointment. “I just find it strange that this could be published.”

Aurora puffed out her cheeks, as if seriously thinking:

“I don’t know why either. Maybe in recent years, supernatural phenomena—uh, phenomena involving the extraordinary—have become more frequent across the land, impossible to fully conceal, sparking certain intellectual currents. The government wants people to have a little understanding, so they’ve relaxed control over similar books. In Trier, the three most popular magazines are ‘Spirit Communication,’ ‘Lotus,’ and ‘Esoteric Wisdom’—I have all of them on my shelf. If you’re interested, take a look. It’ll help you tell better stories at the tavern.”

“Mm.” Lumian was genuinely interested.

At the same time, he silently marveled again:

Aurora’s book collection is incredibly diverse!

Thanks to these books and Aurora’s occasional explanations, this dropout youth had gained sufficient understanding of the world he lived in—this continent, this nation:

The world consisted of two great continents, separated by the Stormy Sea, where hurricanes raged and navigation was treacherous. As for the legendary Eastern and Western Continents, no one had ever reached them; no one could confirm whether they existed at all.

The Republic of Intis, where Lumian and Aurora lived, lay in the center of the Northern Continent, bordered by the Misty Sea to the west, the Fasak Empire to the north, the Honaichis Mountains and the Kingdom of Ruen to the east, and the Kingdom of Fenepot, Lunbao, and Maxi to the south.

Between Fenepot and Ruen lay smaller nations like Segal, which, along with Lunbao and Maxi, were collectively called the Zhongnan States, all sharing a common faith in the God of Knowledge and Wisdom.

The Southern Continent had become a colony of Northern Continent powers; whether the Baylang Empire, the Kingdom of Pas, the Kingdom of Hagati, or others, all had lost most of their autonomy—though resistance against colonization had never ceased.

Besides the Stormy Sea between the two continents, the Misty Sea west of the Republic of Intis, the Sunya Sea east of the Kingdom of Ruen, the North Sea north of the Fasak Empire, and the Polar Sea south of the Southern Continent were collectively known as the “Five Seas.”

Among the Northern Continent nations, the Kingdom of Ruen held the strongest overall power, followed by the Republic of Intis; the Fasak Empire, defeated in the last war, had fallen to fourth place; Fenepot had risen to third; among the Zhongnan States, Lunbao was the most powerful.

Compared to the villagers of Kerdou, who only knew the Republic of Intis, Fenepot, and Lunbao, Lumian was practically a geographer.

Of course, this was only because the shepherds of Kerdou needed to move their flocks to nearby Fenepot and Lunbao, giving them some familiarity with those two nations; people from the northern villages of the Dalie region could name only surrounding villages, towns, and cities, and perhaps the national metropolises like Trier and Suxit.

Sometimes, Lumian truly wondered: how could Aurora know so much?

All his textbooks were written by Aurora; all his practice exams were created by her; whenever he had questions about the books he read, Aurora could always answer them!

More importantly, she mastered martial arts from every school.

This was simply not something a girl in her twenties should be capable of—some people who lived fifty or sixty years couldn’t accumulate such knowledge.

Were these the basic requirements of being a true witch? Lumian looked up again, gazing at Aurora.

Aurora, still reading, gently tapped her cheek with her fingers—she looked nothing like a scholar or a witch.

“What are you staring at?” Aurora noticed his gaze.

“You said last time I had enough knowledge to take the Unified Higher Education Entrance Exam?” Lumian changed the subject.

Aurora thought for a moment and said:

“Theoretically, you could pass any university entrance exam, but I’ve never taken it myself, so I can’t be certain of the exact scope.”

“Luo Saier really did a number on people. Ah, but then again, it’s not all bad…”

Undoubtedly, the Unified Higher Education Entrance Exam had been created during the reign of Emperor Luo Saier and had continued to this day.

Suddenly, Aurora remembered something and smiled at Lumian:

“Why didn’t you go to the tavern to tell stories today?”

“I’m not a real drunkard,” Lumian waved the magazine in his hand. “Reading at home is a perfectly good way to relax.”

And it calms my mind, eases my tension… he silently added to himself.

Aurora nodded, looking toward Lumian’s corner:

“Why are you sitting so far away? Are you trying to play the pitiful, weak, helpless one?”

“Come over. Night reading requires good lighting, or it’ll damage your eyes.”

Aurora’s odd phrases always piled up… I understand each word—“pitiful,” “weak,” “helpless”—but together they sound strange, unnatural… Lumian was long accustomed to her behavior; he picked up his chair and moved to the desk.

Before the bright desk lamp, he and Aurora sat side by side, quietly reading, occasionally exchanging a few words.

The sound of breathing, the rustle of turning pages, the occasional gust of night wind outside the window—all calm, peaceful.

………

After bidding Aurora goodnight, Lumian returned to his room.

He took off his coat and hung it on the chairback, not attempting to bring the “Scepter” card to bed.

He feared arousing Aurora’s suspicion—after all, his sister had said she would watch him constantly.

Just as Lumian was about to step toward his bed, he suddenly paused, a thought striking him.

His eyes shifted, and he repositioned the usual crooked chair to face the window directly.

Then he got into bed and extinguished the kerosene lamp on the nearby cabinet.

After falling into normal sleep, after some unknown time, Lumian suddenly jolted awake.

Once again, he saw his bedroom filled with faint gray mist.

Prepared mentally, Lumian calmly surveyed the room and noticed something:

The chair he had deliberately straightened before sleeping remained crooked in the dream, just as it always had been.

That meant the dream bedroom did not strictly mirror reality—it likely stemmed from the deepest layers of my subconscious… Though he didn’t know what this implied, Lumian decided it was a detail worth remembering.

He walked to the window, placed his hands on the desk, and gazed outside.

The mountain, composed of reddish-brown stone and russet earth, and the ring of collapsed buildings surrounding it reappeared before his eyes.

Silence here was absolute.

Time passed swiftly. After hesitating, Lumian finally made up his mind:

Tonight, he would make a preliminary, cautious exploration!

His years of wandering had instilled in him a ruthless streak.

He did not immediately descend to the ruins; instead, he opened the cabinet and began adding layers of clothing.

This wasn’t because he felt cold—he was simply increasing his “defense” this way.

After putting on cotton jacket and pants and fastening his leather coat, Lumian moved his body, deciding he couldn’t add more—any further layers would severely hinder his agility.

That mattered more.

While adapting to his current state, a thought suddenly flashed through Lumian’s mind:

This is my dream—I can summon anything I want.

With a spirit of experimentation, he began whispering softly:

“I need a breastplate, a pistol… I need a breastplate, a pistol…”

The room, still veiled in faint gray mist, remained unchanged.

So it doesn’t work… this dream is truly unusual… Lumian calmed his disappointment, opened the bedroom door, and stepped into the hallway.

No lights here—dim, gloomy.

Lumian opened the doors to Aurora’s bedroom and the study; their layouts differed slightly from reality but were largely the same. The greatest difference: neither scene contained Aurora—they were frozen in gray stillness.

The first floor was the same.

Lumian began searching for weapons for self-defense. Knowing his home well, he quickly narrowed his choices to two:

One was a two-meter-long fork with a steel tip—according to Aurora, it was devastating against any opponent without ranged weapons.

The other was a sharp, iron-black hand axe.

An adult’s answer would be to take both… Lumian suddenly recalled a phrase Aurora often said, but ultimately chose not to.

Because tonight’s goal was preliminary exploration—stealth, caution, near-invisibility.

Carrying such a long weapon would slow him down and make him easy to spot.

Lumian exhaled slowly, bent low, and picked up the axe.

He straightened up and stepped forward, one slow step at a time, through the faint gray mist toward the door.

Without a sound, he pulled open the front door.

(End of Chapter)