Yuna Ji lay quietly on the ground, gazing at the dazzling white light appearing in the sky. Colorful feathers drifted down, and she reached out her hand, watching in silence.
"Yuna."
A gentle voice sounded. Yuna Ji's eyes widened, her expression instantly turning unbearably sad as she began to cry out.
"Second Brother..."
A white humanoid figure slowly descended in front of Yuna Ji, gently placing a hand on her forehead.
"You have a group of wonderful friends! Now I can be at ease, Yuna. Learn from them and don't be mischievous anymore."
Yuna Ji reached out, trying to grasp the white figure before her, but just then it began to float away. As the white light gradually faded, Yuna Ji saw nine figures standing before her.
"Th-thank you... all of you."
As the white light slowly faded, Wraithshade's eyes widened, staring at the sky where the liberated souls burst forth with intense brilliance—and at the nine figures who had already approached him within the white glow.
"No matter when, people always crave brightness and warmth!"
In a daze, Wraithshade revealed a faint smile, as memories from childhood gradually resurfaced before his eyes.
With a slap, a peculiar-looking child of about ten years old covered his face. Stubbornness shone in his eyes. The boy seemed ordinary, but a red and a black birthmark on each cheek made him look strange, and two tiger teeth protruded from his mouth.
"Wraithshade, from today onward, you must leave. You have ruined the important ritual, and you are no longer a member of our tribe. Get out."
A stern voice rang out. The young Wraithshade looked at the furious man before him.
"Father, why is it that those cold and dark things are always shunned, even though they're just like..."
Wraithshade's eyes widened as he watched his father turn and walk away, not willing to say another word to him, completely casting him out of the tribe.
He had ruined the tribe's most important annual ritual—the Soul Homecoming Rite, the tribe's sacred shamanic ceremony.
Raindrops pattered down. Birds returned to their nests, insects burrowed into the earth—everyone sought shelter from the wind and rain. But at that moment, Wraithshade was as happy as a child, running barefoot through the forest, letting the rain strike his body.
Since the discovery of fire, people could drive away darkness and gain warmth, but Wraithshade did not see it that way. From the day he was born, he disliked brightness and warmth, preferring the cold and darkness.
The night always brought him immense comfort, and cold was his greatest solace. His behavior was unlike anyone else.
Within the tribe, each year the souls of the dead are bound by special magical restraints, accumulating good fortune for the coming year under the protection of the ancestors. When the time comes, these souls are released in the tribe's greatest ceremony—the Soul Homecoming Rite.
But this year was different. Wraithshade discovered something novel and fascinating. After countless years of restraint, the once pure and warm souls had become cold and strange. It was as if he had found a new toy—he was so excited he couldn't sleep.
Cast out from the tribe, Wraithshade never stopped. He went against everyone, chasing after cold and darkness, wandering the vast lands year after year, day after day, never ceasing—his heart always drawn to the dark and the cold.
Avoiding everyone, Wraithshade chose resting places where sunlight could never reach—dark and damp, where rustling sounds echoed in the darkness. A small insect crawled onto his finger, and a smile appeared on his face.
He no longer remembered how many years had passed, or even where he came from. All he knew was his pursuit of cold and darkness.
At night, Wraithshade walked through the forest, relishing the feeling. Wild beasts could leap out at any moment, and the path ahead was impossible to see in the dense woods.
Yet the darkness and cold constantly comforted him, driving his feet ever forward.
"It's the moon—much more beautiful than the sun."
Standing at the edge of a cliff, Wraithshade stopped. His whole body was bathed in silvery-gray light. He sat comfortably, smiling.
"Young man, what beautiful moonlight."
An aged voice came from behind. Wraithshade turned and smiled. Behind him stood an old man, his body hunched and enveloped in dark essence, only a pair of golden eyes visible.
"Yes, it's beautiful. You think so too, don't you? Where there is light, there must be shadow. Why do people love the light and despise the darkness?"
"Haha, your thinking is quite strange, young man."
The old man spoke as he came to sit beside Wraithshade.
"It's fate that you can see me, young man. But those who've met me rarely have good luck afterward."
Wraithshade smiled and shook his head.
"Old sir, where is your destination?"
"I don't know! I just have to reach a destination—maybe it's the past, maybe it's the future. Right now doesn't exist, you know. You're the same, aren't you, young man?"
The old man stood up as he spoke, stepping into the air beyond the cliff, as if walking across the moon.
"Here's some advice, young man: where there is light, there must be shadow. That's how this world is. No one can live in the light forever, nor in the shadows forever."
Wraithshade laughed.
"Light and shadow—both exist in this world, yet they are treated so differently. People love warmth and brightness, but everyone despises the cold and dark. How chaotic is this world's logic? Without night, there is no day; without death, there is no rebirth. No one cares, but I hear it all."
Wraithshade stood up excitedly, pointing to his ear as dark essence poured from his body. Instantly, the night sky became pitch black, the moonlight blocked out. The old man watched Wraithshade in silence.
"Since everyone hates the cold and the dark, then I am cold and dark—Wraithshade, lost in darkness, never seeing the light."
"Perhaps so, young man. Good luck to you. I must continue my journey—many places still await me."
Wraithshade laughed heartily and said:
"One day, it will be found—even if it doesn't exist, even if it makes no sense, even if the world opposes it. As long as it lives in my heart, that's enough."
...........
"He finally closed his eyes, that guy."
Lucille Xing muttered. Everyone else looked toward Wraithshade. The sky was growing lighter. In that moment, memories flashed through Wraithshade's mind like a lantern show. He felt nothing—his body was light as air.
"So this is death? Still so delightful. This time I'll let you all go—consider it a stroke of luck granted by the heavens."
"Is he really dead or not?"
Lona Long struggled to lift the sleeping Yuna Ji. Joseph Qiao pulled away the cloth covering Wraithshade's mouth. Instantly, something changed—Wraithshade's skin began to shrivel, as if all moisture had evaporated. Soon, he was like a dead twig, shriveled into a small bundle.
The entire palace erupted. In the courtyard where Yuna Ji lived, the ground was pitted and uneven, the walls stripped as if a layer had been shaved away. Though Joseph Qiao and the generals explained and showed them Wraithshade's corpse, no one believed what had happened that night.
"Alright, that's enough. Xiao Xiao, don't move around. You might be left with a disability, but you can fly, so it should be fine."
Lucille Xing used some branches and rope to splint the Ninefeather Bird's right leg. Everyone else was injured to some extent. Five days had passed, and the city still buzzed with rumors about that night, though most people remained skeptical.
"If you'd helped me to the bathroom earlier that night, things wouldn't have been so troublesome."
Phoenix Yu muttered, and Lucille Xing glared at him.
"You fool, don't you realize how dangerous things were then?"
Joseph Qiao smiled and quickly tried to mediate, glancing worriedly at Sebastian Zhao's bandaged hand.