Without saying a word, Aina stood up and left the place.
The honey pancake still lay untouched on the table.
For some inexplicable reason, Xia Lun felt a pang of unease in his chest.
He thought he should chase after her, but he and Aina weren’t particularly close, and with Ankula still seated across from him, it would be improper to leave.
Xia Lun sighed inwardly but ultimately decided he didn’t want to regret his inaction.
Slowly, he rose from his seat. "Miss Ankula..."
"Hmm, I’m done as well. Let’s go." Ankula stood up, though her expression seemed faintly downcast.
By the time they stepped out of the restaurant, Aina had already vanished into the bustling streets. Xia Lun stared blankly at the crowd, lost in thought.
"Could you accompany me to one more place, Mr. Xia Lun?" Ankula asked softly. "Just one last stop for today."
The girl who had once fearlessly faced a crimson dragon alone now appeared so fragile it tugged at his heartstrings.
Xia Lun’s gaze softened. "Of course, Miss Ankula."
To his surprise, Ankula led him not to a romantic garden or a tranquil forest, but to a graveyard.
Tombstones of varying sizes and designs—some simple, others ornate—stood scattered across the grounds, yet in death, they all bore the same equality. No matter how lavish the marker, those beneath would never sleep more comfortably for it.
A thick layer of dust coated most of the tombstones, the kind that left a clear mark when brushed by a finger.
The living, burdened by their own struggles, rarely had time to tend to the emotions of the dead.
Many new graves had been added—the recent plague had claimed countless lives. Had it not been for Angelie, the city lord, enforcing timely isolation, the death toll would have been far worse.
And yet… only a handful of victims had been granted tombstones. Most bodies had been cremated to prevent the spread of disease.
Ankula stopped before one particular grave.
Even among the others, this tombstone stood out for its exquisite craftsmanship, clearly a labor of love.
"This is my mother," Ankula murmured, wiping the stone with a handkerchief. "She passed away from illness when I was ten."
"My condolences."
"My father loved her deeply. Even after her death, he never remarried… She had told him she wouldn’t mind if he started a new family, but he always worried about how I’d feel."
Xia Lun knew this wasn’t the time for him to speak.
"I know my father approached you before, saying he didn’t want me to become an adventurer…" Ankula pursed her lips. "He’s so foolish. If I left home, maybe some woman would finally approach him. After all, he’s the lord of Olie City—he meets plenty of remarkable women. But he’s so dense, he might just get swindled by the wrong kind. So I thought about it all night and decided to stay."
Xia Lun asked, "Do you want to be an adventurer?"
Ankula shrugged. "It’s alright. I just wanted to see more of the world—it all seems so fascinating. And I think traveling with you all would be fun… but I don’t dislike my life in Olie City either."
"Anyway, thank you, Captain Xia Lun, for coming here with me and listening to all this." Ankula flashed a bright smile. "Honestly, this place is so eerie—I wouldn’t dare come alone."
Xia Lun remarked, "You were brave enough to lure away a crimson dragon by yourself."
Ankula pouted. "Has anyone ever told you how mean you can be, Captain Xia Lun?"
Xia Lun pondered seriously before answering. "Not yet… you’re the first."
Ankula giggled. "Oh? Then I’ll gladly take Captain Xia Lun’s first time."
Xia Lun sighed. "Please don’t phrase it in such a misleading way, Miss Ankula."
Ankula tilted her head. "Misleading? What do you mean?"
Xia Lun: "…"
He truly had no way of handling this girl.
Just then, another figure entered the graveyard.
Cloaked entirely in black robes, the person was gaunt, as if nothing but a skeleton lurked beneath the fabric.
The hood bulged unnaturally, giving the illusion of an oversized, misshapen head.
"Your death was worthless… filthy trash, scum. Your existence is revolting. How dare you have such a fine tombstone… You’re no better." The figure muttered to each grave as it passed.
"What a freak." Ankula frowned deeply, muttering under her breath.
She quickened her pace, wanting nothing to do with the unsettling stranger.
But when she glanced back, she froze—the figure had stopped before her mother’s grave.
"Ah… found you. Your death held meaning. So radiant… truly deserving of this exquisite tomb." Death Praise reached out, caressing the stone.
Ankula’s blood ran cold. She wouldn’t let this deranged intruder defile her mother’s resting place. "Hey! Who are you? What do you think you’re doing?"
"Ah, so that young lady is your daughter?" Death Praise didn’t stop, his hidden gaze brimming with eerie fondness. "I sense your boundless love for your family… Magnificent! Lend me your strength…"
"Stop it! That’s my mother’s grave! Back off, or I won’t hold back!" Ankula’s hand dove into her coat pocket, retrieving a potion vial.
She had specially designed this outfit with multiple pockets—in emergencies, there might not be time to fetch items from her spatial ring.
A tear-gas potion shattered at Death Praise’s feet, releasing a cloud of crimson smoke.
Yet the skeletal figure strode through unharmed, emerging before Ankula.
"Please don’t interrupt my communion with this lady, miss." Death Praise’s voice grated like rusted gears forced to mesh.
"Are you insane? That’s my mother’s grave!" Ankula snapped.
"You shouldn’t have died like this… what a waste." Death Praise sighed. "But needs must… for my gathering…"
A withered, corpse-like hand stretched toward her.
Ankula stood paralyzed, sheer terror drowning all other senses.
Whoosh—
A blade flashed—Xia Lun’s sword severed the outstretched hand.
No blood sprayed forth. Only black ashes scattered where the limb fell.
Ankula collapsed to her knees, gasping for breath. Even facing the crimson dragon, she had never been this shaken.
When Ankula looked at Death Praise again, she suddenly let out a piercing scream, blood streaming from the corners of her eyes.