Night in Londan.
Cathedral Railway Station.
The luxury train slowly came to a halt. Passengers trickled off one after another, while servants who had long been waiting on the platform boarded the carriages to haul down their masters' luggage.
Keeping Xifei's warning firmly in mind, Wayne returned to Londan entirely on his own. He contacted no one, carrying his suitcase in silence as he walked out of the station.
Looking out into the fog-shrouded night, he stood before the taxi line and drew a deep breath.
*Londan, I'm back!*
Sensing his intense surge of emotion, the fire elements within his body cheered and leaped with joy.
Wayne narrowed his eyes slightly. Three months ago, he had been forced to flee Londan in utter disgrace. Three months later, he was reborn—no longer that innocent, adorable little weakling.
"Times have changed. Starting today, no one gets to raise their voice at—"
"Hey! The cab's here! If you're not getting in, let someone else through! There's a queue back here!"
The camera pulled back to reveal dozens of people lined up at the station exit waiting for a ride. Wayne stood right at the front, zoning out without getting into the cab, which provoked collective outrage from the crowd behind him. Each voice was louder than the last.
Wayne nodded repeatedly in apology, sheepishly pulled open the car door, and scrambled inside.
He barked out his address, urged the driver to step on it, and simultaneously flaunted his local status, warning the driver not to take the scenic route right under his nose.
"Otherwise, I'll make grass sprout out of your backside!"
As the cab pulled away from the station curb, Wayne turned around and flipped off the rear window. What a bunch of miserable whiners! What was the big deal about waiting an extra second? Zero patience!
"Where are their manners?!"
Wayne curled his lip. *Cut that last part—it didn't count. Starting right now, no one gets to raise their voice at me.*
In the back seat of the taxi, Wayne closed his eyes to rest, letting his mind drift as he slipped into a meditative state to perceive the distribution of the four elements.
Three months ago, he had known nothing, falling short of even a novice. Only now did he notice that the four elements drifting freely throughout Londan were extraordinarily abundant—it was practically a sacred haven for a magician's cultivation.
However, the omnipresent fog posed a massive problem. When he sensed it through meditation, his consciousness felt as though it were sinking into a swampy mire, tightly enveloped by some indescribably viscous substance.
Wayne couldn't quite describe the sensation. It was like *that* sort of thing—with every inch pushed forward, the resistance grew stronger; with every inch pulled back, the suction became more intense.
Yes, exactly like swimming: resistance pressing in from every direction.
In Wayne's perception, the mist was alive. It feared light, driven away even by the street lamps used for nighttime illumination.
The fog deliberately steered clear of the lamps yet tentatively probed forward, tiny squirming tentacles writhing along its edges.
The four elements avoided the mist, refusing to keep company with it, and gathered en masse beneath the lamplight, resembling night moths irresistibly drawn to an electric bulb.
Wayne gave a quiet nod of approval. Londan's nights were exceptionally well-suited for meditation. Setting aside whatever state the elements were in during the day, by nightfall they were compressed together at remarkably high densities. A single sweep of his mental tendrils could reap a massive gulp, making the meditation efficiency more than ten times greater than in Enrold Town.
Wayne did not immediately begin plundering the four elements. Instead, he politely declined the fire elements that proactively flocked to him, sternly criticizing their shameful behavior of selling out their friends for personal gain.
Londan was a sprawling metropolis with eyes everywhere; he had to keep up appearances at least a little. It wouldn't do to be mistaken for a villain.
A man knows his own business best, and Wayne understood his condition all too well. The moment he opened his mind, a colossal tide of fire elements would sweep earth, water, and wind along with them to defect to his side.
He wouldn't even be able to shoo them away!
The commotion would be massive, drawing needless attention.
Xifei had told him to keep a low profile and avoid contacting Veronica and his other acquaintances. His teacher never spoke without good reason; she surely had her motives for laying down such instructions. Wayne knew when to take good advice and resolved to find a secluded spot where no one would disturb his meditation.
The detective agency was out of the question. He couldn't think of a suitable location off the top of his head, weighing whether the warehouse district or the docks would be a better fit.
First, though, he had to meet with Abin.
The dog had been left to roam free for three months, galloping about every night. His familiarity with Londan far exceeded Wayne's own, so he might well have a better suggestion.
Reaching out through the contract of the Book of Greed, Wayne contacted Abin, telling him to wait at the detective agency and take it easy tonight instead of wandering around aimlessly.
Abin answered Wayne's summons with a wronged whimper. He slept in the backyard during the day and guarded the agency faithfully every night, never straying a step. Aside from occasionally heading out to take a bite out of an enemy, he had performed his duties with utmost devotion and hadn't run wild outside in a long time.
Wayne soothed him and fed him a generous helping of magical power, letting Abin feast to his heart's content.
***
The detective agency.
Wayne glanced at his watch after stepping out of the cab. Judging by the travel time, the driver had taken a detour after all.
"In a society driven by material greed, honest men like me truly are hard to come by..."
Sighing ruefully, he bypassed the front door of the agency, nimbly hopped the perimeter wall, and vaulted into the backyard.
Abin bounded over, wagging his tail furiously.
After three months apart, Wayne had grown even more handsome, and Abin's build had become visibly sturdier.
The mist wrapping the dog's body had solidified to near-physical density, his musculature developed and powerful, his black coat glossy and sleek. He looked no different from an ordinary Doberman, his skeletal frame barely visible through the spirit body only under glaring light.
Wayne patted the dog's head, gathering a cluster of magic in his palm and holding it out.
Abin wagged his tail so hard it blurred into an afterimage, extending his tongue to lick the magic clean, before eagerly licking Wayne's palm for more.
His body could shift freely between the tangible and the incorporeal. The icy licks sent Wayne into a fit of laughter. He reached out to knead the dog's head, rubbing the floppy spectral ears until they stood straight up.
Sure enough, a Doberman looked far sharper with cropped ears; even his gaze turned much fiercer.
Docking the tail was out of the question, though—it suppressed a dog's natural instincts, which was completely heretical.
Abin didn't care for the upright ear style. He nudged his head against Wayne's hand twice, and the perked ears drooped back down.
Wayne didn't force the matter. As long as the dog was happy, that was all that counted.
"Abin, do you know of any desolate, quiet places in Londan where there's not a soul around within a radius of ten-odd li at night?"
Wayne unlocked the back door of the detective agency and led Abin inside. Having been away for three months, the desks, chairs, and bookshelves were blanketed in a layer of dust.
Setting down his suitcase, he flipped open his journal. The entries had stopped on March 20th; he would need to find time to fill in the missing gap.
Wayne already had the narrative planned out. This section would focus on local customs and heartwarming tales: an optimistic, kindhearted young man journeying to the ends of the earth in pursuit of his dreams, arriving travel-stained at an impoverished, backward town. He spread knowledge, brought joy and hope to the townsfolk, and breathed life into stagnant waters.
On the day of his departure, the townsfolk escorted him for ten li, reluctant to part for the longest time, while the young man choked back tears, his vision blurring again and again.
*That's exactly how it ought to be written!*
Abin couldn't speak, but he communicated mentally through the contract of the Book of Greed: *I don't know Londan that well. I've rarely gone out over the past three months. But I know a friend. She likes staying in quiet places, so she might be able to give us a few recommendations.*
"A friend?!"
A string of question marks floated across Wayne's mind. Who could be bold enough to make friends with an undead hound in the dead of night?
A magician?
*She? Well, well, a female magician, no less!*
Wayne raised an eyebrow and told Abin to set up a meeting; he wanted to see her in person.
If they couldn't meet, that was fine too—just a few suggestions would suffice. He only wanted to know where people rarely set foot, where no one would come running even if someone screamed their lungs out.
*No need to make an appointment. She'll come if I just call for her.*
"That convenient? What's her name?"
*Yulia.*
"Yulia... Nice name. Sounds like a beauty." Wayne nodded cheerfully.
*Yes.*
Abin nodded. From an undead's aesthetic perspective, Yulia possessed an exquisite bone structure; she truly was a valiant, handsome mare.
A ripple of soul resonance spread outwards like gentle water waves, piercing through the fog to create a vibration, propagating rapidly at a low frequency imperceptible to human ears...
Moments later, Abin received a response.
*Master, she's here. In the backyard.*
"That was fast!"
Wayne straightened his clothes—a habit drilled into him by Butler Fra. When facing a lady, he would subconsciously mind his appearance to avoid making her feel uncomfortable.
Wayne pushed open the back door to the backyard. The moment he laid eyes on the 'female magician,' the smile froze on his face.
There was no female magician.
Only a powerfully built undead warhorse.
Cold light enveloped bleached bones, draped in saddle and reins. Its jaw was lined with jagged, interlocking fangs, wreathed in black smoke, its snorts puffing forth plumes of purple flame.
Wayne: (◞)ﾟдﾟ(◟)
*Sweet mother of mercy, Abin, what kind of shady characters have you been running around with?!*
*Is this—is this the kind of 'friend' you just casually bring home?!*
Chapter 59