After sensing further, Yang Zicang detected traces of precious metals within the hidden crates. Walking along the coastline, he found several similar traces, some new and some old.

Just then, he discovered through Musing Night a person dressed as nondescript as a weed, dragging one leg as he cautiously made his way down the mountain.

-｛Loki. Tata Mingqi indicated “Watching “｝

-｛Loki. Tata Mingqi indicated “Fishing “｝

-｛Loki. Tata Mingqi indicated “Over There “｝

……

On the hillside, Jean Conrad let out a soft whimper of pain from between his teeth.

Suddenly, he realized that at some point, a figure had appeared beside him. It was as if this person had popped up out of nowhere, not even giving him a chance to duck into the grass.

“You… you are a Fogfolk? ” Jean Conrad exclaimed in shock, staring at Yang Zicang’s ears.

-｛Loki. Tata Mingqi indicated “Delighted “｝

Yang Zicang looked at the leaves deliberately hanging on his body, like some savage who knew how to dress himself up. And hanging around his neck was a small black case—an old-fashioned, expensive camera.

“Who are you? ” Yang Zicang asked in Mutao Language.

“Ah, I… ” After a moment’s thought, Jean Conrad decided to be honest. “I’m a reporter. My name is Jean Conrad. “

Yang Zicang reached out and squeezed his leg—the injury wasn’t serious.

“A real journalist? Where are you from? “

Jean Conrad felt the goodwill from the Fogfolk, as well as the disrespect in the tone toward the profession of journalism. “I’m a reporter from theTranquil Watcher Gazettein White Violet City. I have a press card. “

“Oh, having a press card makes you a good journalist, does it? “

It was a shame this man was an ordinary native; otherwise, the reporter identity could have come in handy for getting a room on the third floor of the Fei-Lu Inn. Then Yang Zicang looked at the terrain around him and thought of a question.

“Why are you here at this time? Are you someone who’s trapped? “

“I… ” The journalist hesitated, stopping before he could speak.

Yang Zicang crouched down, brought his eyes level with the other man’s gaze, and tried to look as sincere as possible.

Jean Conrad felt so creeped out by that look he finally blurted, “You have to swear you won’t manipulate me into whatever schemes you might be cooking up. “

“Oh? You mean you only just got here? “

“Ah? Ugh! I knew it. ” Jean Conrad felt like a total failure.

Given the consistent low character of Fogfolk, now that he knew about this, something was bound to go wrong.

“I slipped in during their shift change. This path is very dangerous, so don’t you ever try it, ” the journalist said warily.

Yang Zicang guessed that the other wanted to return the same way alone later, so he deliberately said, “Since you’re afraid of others discovering the path, why did you come? “

“I have to bring the information from here back! Hah, the people at city hall said most of the folks from the nearby villages had fled into White Violet City, but look. “

He pointed at a village at the foot of the mountain, where thousands of people were scattered.

“Spare me the explanations. I’ll take you back to where I’m staying; a few days of rest will set you right. “

As he spoke, the young man hoisted him onto his back.

Jean Conrad felt a warmth in his heart. Whenever he was in trouble, the Fogfolk were always so enthusiastic.

But why, amidst the rumors, did it gradually become, “Keep your distance from the Fogfolk “?

He thought of those big-money merchants whose competitors, aided by Fogfolk, had seized market share; the old nobles who feared losing power and thus suppressed them; and those who came to his newspaper, wanting to buy up advertising space, covertly placing promotional campaigns to push out businessmen involved with Fogfolk.

Was it because of these things? Maybe…

“I’ll hire you, Fogfolk, ” Jean Conrad suddenly spoke softly from on his back.

Yang Zicang, who was concentrating on the map feedback from “Musing Night, ” immediately thought of the same words Long Mingjie had once said.

He grunted in realization—it seemed everyone here was adept at using this trick: if you can’t predict what unpredictable trouble a Fogfolk might cause, hire them to do something you can control, to keep them pacified first.

Yang Zicang couldn’t help but think of certain little rascals who also styled themselves as “journalists, ” so he adopted the tone he used to tease them:

“Hah, I’m a pretty old-fashioned Fogfolk. If the job you give me isn’t interesting enough, I won’t bother with it. “

The fragile friendship that had just begun to grow in Jean Conrad’s heart—born from a slight fondness for the Fogfolk—vanished into thin air.

These Fogfolk were indeed all cut from the same cloth!

He was simply doing something he thought was fun.

-｛Loki. Tata Mingqi gives a “haha “｝

By dusk, Yang Zicang had been weaving around the refugees, deliberately exploring terrain he hadn’t been to before, taking a long, roundabout route before finally returning to the small house near the old lighthouse.

In Jean Conrad’s eyes, this only reinforced his belief that “Fogfolk are capable but terribly unreliable. ” This guy was wandering around aimlessly like a monkey without a destination, and all while carrying an injured person on his back.

…..

“Our Fogfolk classmate is back. “

Seeing Yang Zicang carrying back a strangely dressed local, the people inside the house immediately swarmed over.

“Oh, and this is? “

“He was injured when I found him, so I brought him back to stay for a couple of days. By the way, he’s a journalist from White Violet City.” Yang Zicang wasted no time explaining the reporter’s origins.

“A journalist from White Violet City?!“

This got the crowd in the house all fired up—these days, a journalist from White Violet City of all places!

Jean Conrad inwardly felt like tearing this Fogfolk apart. The real reason this guy dragged him here couldn’t be for this spectacle, could it?

The people around him excitedly threw questions: How is White Violet City? Does the Prince know what’s happening here? What does the Marshal think about the two rival foreign armies taking turns looting the place? Has that celebrated poet released any new works? And so on.

• ｛Distributor Loki Tata Mingqi expresses, “Waiting.“｝

Yang Zicang cast a sidelong glance and quietly slipped out the back door.

In the twilight, a small figure on the roof tossed a pebble down, landing it precisely at Yang Zicang’s feet. The young man looked up to see Tata Mingqi grinning.

The house wasn’t tall. Yang Zicang sprang off his feet, coiling his knees as he landed lightly on the rooftop, right at that moment when the full moon, just risen above the sea, hung level with them both.

“Got any advice on these navy forces?“

“Oh~ That’s not exactly something I can give advice on, my good friend.“

Yang Zicang snorted a laugh, then watched as Tata Mingqi took off racing across the rooftops, leaping toward the dilapidated, crumbling base of the old lighthouse. Yang Zicang followed suit.

The distributor, who appeared to be fourteen or fifteen years old, leaped at the edge of the eaves, arcing across more than ten meters before crashing hard to the ground with a thud.

The young man jumped down as well, and just before landing, a model on his chest flickered briefly. His feet deftly decelerated so that he landed lightly beside the distributor. Together, they leaped, quickly crossing dozens of meters.

“Ah, the sea breeze, ” Tar Mizuno exclaimed at the cliff’s edge, eyes closed, arms spread wide as he felt the wind. “Every gust feels so amazing. I could bask in this forever. “

He opened his eyes and turned to the youth beside him.

“Sign a contract with me. You’ve seen it yourself—though I’m just a first-level distributor, the advice I can give you far exceeds what any other distributor can offer. “

Indeed, that was the truth. Using a “Distribution Beacon ” accessory crafted by himself, he had stored in it more agile methods of improving procurement efficiency, forming a “suggestion. ” This was far superior to a pendant like “Golden Emerald, ” which could only signal the user through intense emotions.

But…

One single distributor demanded a long-term contract spanning forty to fifty batches of Radiance…

He turned to look at the boy. “How many layers are there in the lunar realm? Could it match an eighteen or maybe a twelve celestial grid? “

“Ha, I wish there were eighteen, ” Tar Mizuno shrugged, “but sadly, there are only ten. Or maybe nine. “

“That so? ” Yang Zicang felt a sense of disbelief. He had assumed that something modeled on months would logically have twelve flaring rings.

“Distributors beyond the seventh layer are hard to find, and impossible by the tenth, because the tenth layer is… ” He paused, his lips hovering as if he was mustering that breath, holding it for a few seconds before abruptly forcing out a word like suffocating — “Null Void.Whoosh, that was a hard word to say. “

Yang Zicang felt a hollow, disorienting death.

It was as if that ‘word’ held some magnetic power, more intangible than the choking death aura that once engulfed the land, provoking a primal terror, like the very burial ground of all existence.

｛I sense the faint trace of ‘Null Void’.｝

“Hah, consider this your farewell gift from me. From now on, if you ever feel this presence, get as far away from it as quickly as you can. “

Loki. Tata Mingqi sat on the shore, gazing at the full moon.

“The Null Void can shatter the effectiveness of any bloodline, because it represents bloodlines returning to a state of absolute nothingness. Even Death itself is reclaimed here. There is no life there, thus no distributor exists. “