A row of yellowed, blackened teeth with some white patches—crooked and uneven—exuded a foul stench. I warily eyed the figure behind me, dressed in a faded gray trench coat.
The man looked to be in his fifties, disheveled and grimy, with patches of dirt on his face—like a beggar. His hair was long and slightly wavy, hanging down the sides of his forehead. He had no beard, his features were coarse, and he limped a few steps before stopping two or three meters from me, his face twisted with malice.
"I come from the Dark Banquet. You can call me the Beggar..."
Immediately, I became vigilant, staring at the Beggar. He laughed—a dry, choking sound, low and rough.
"What do you want?"
I noticed that the blue-green streams of energy around me had all shrunk together, huddling behind my back as if they were afraid of the Beggar.
"Of course, I want what's behind you."
I couldn't figure out how this guy got in—and it was the same every time. The Dark Banquet agents seemed able to move freely anywhere. This was Azure Luan's space, yet they could still enter.
"Are you wondering how I got in?"
I nodded slowly. The Beggar pointed at me with a callused, leathery finger.
"I got in through you, of course. Darkness is wonderful, Ethan Zhang. It can hold everything—good, evil, yin, yang, even the living and the dead. Only darkness can embrace it all, quietly stretching on forever—silent, steady, never saying a word."
I glanced around, anxiety rising in my chest. Why hadn't Lan Yin woken me up yet? If a fight broke out here, I wouldn't stand a chance against him.
I didn't want to listen to the Beggar's nonsense, nor did I want to respond. But now I understood—since I possessed the power of darkness, the Dark Banquet could use my leaking dark energy as a medium. Whether to monitor me or appear through my darkness, it was all too convenient for them.
I immediately tried to draw the leaking darkness back into my body, but the black mist floating around me refused to return.
Suddenly, I noticed a faint, black stream swirling beneath me, like a rope. Its source was in the Beggar's other hand. I raised my palm instantly.
"Don't make any sudden moves, Ethan Zhang. If you leave, you'll never see Azure Luan again—it's right behind you."
The Beggar laughed with a harsh, rattling sound.
"Or do you want to give up your chance to save Lan Ruoxi?"
I held myself back and looked at the Beggar.
"What exactly is going on?"
"The way things turned out is the Four Guardians' own fault—no one else is to blame. Now they want you to clean up their mess. Honestly, they already know the Azure Luan Egg can't be revived."
I looked at the Beggar in confusion. He casually sat down on the snow, smiling at me.
"Let's work together this time. What do you say? Each of us gets what we need. I only want the effect the Azure Luan has the moment it hatches. You and I need the same thing."
The Beggar's eyes softened with kindness. I even doubted whether someone like him truly belonged to the Dark Banquet.
I didn't agree to the Beggar's proposal. I wasn't familiar with the Dark Banquet, but after several encounters, they felt no different from the Immortality Society.
"That's not right!"
The Beggar suddenly stood up, his gaze turning serious as he looked at me.
"Darkness isn't evil, nor is it cold. Darkness stands for acceptance, quiet strength—it can hold everything, light or shadow, yin or yang, good or evil, all the things born in this world. Whether it's origin or end, in darkness, everything exists freely, undisturbed, simply sleeping quietly within it."
"None of that means anything to me. Stop trying to indoctrinate me with your beliefs."
The Beggar chuckled helplessly and waved his hand.
"As you know, the Azure Luan Egg represents humanity’s highest faith—justice. But does such a thing really exist? Is victory justice? Or must justice always win? The two seem similar, yet they’re fundamentally different."
Images from Swordspire City flashed through my mind—Xu Fu’s beliefs and Lord Shenyan’s ideals were completely different, just as the Beggar said.
"Don't lump us in with those rotten Immortality Society types. Sure, some of us cooperate with them, but only for mutual benefit. When the interests run out, so does the partnership. Those people are truly evil—absolute evil. That's why darkness doesn't attract them, nor does it welcome them. They're not born of darkness, so they don't even qualify to attend the Dark Banquet."
"Then why do they have invitations?"
The Beggar laughed, then shook his head.
"I almost let something slip. I don’t cooperate with the Immortality Society, but some of my friends are their strategic partners. Naturally, I can’t betray my friends, right?"
I glanced at the blue-green energy behind me—now curled into a small ball, like a blue soccer ball, right at my back.
"Why? What did the Four Guardians do?"
"Absolute, perfect justice—or true justice—doesn't exist. All those are just the Four Guardians' wishes for a better future. Like this world of illusions you see, it can never truly exist. But because of this world's uniqueness, the egg is allowed to exist. You must have seen powerful death faiths before—those Forsaken."
I nodded. The Beggar bit his finger and laughed with a crackling sound, stepping closer to me.
"All these are manifestations—they don't truly exist, but in this world, they're real enough. Call them illusions. So here's my proposal: since you have such convenient instincts, just talk to it more, try to awaken it bit by bit. Then maybe the Azure Luan Egg could hatch."
I thought carefully—should I trust the Beggar?
What did the Beggar mean just now? Impossible things—born from the Four Guardians gathering power for humanity, the highest faith—justice.
"If you want an impossible illusion to become real, you have to cross what's above it."
The Beggar said this, pointing up at the sky.
"Divine Law?"
I said. He nodded happily, inching closer.
"So, how about it? Work with me. I'll teach you some ways to hatch the egg quickly. I need the Azure Luan Egg for something too, and once we're partners, I swear I won't betray you."
As he spoke, the Beggar pulled out a sheet of paper from his coat—a black page with gold-embossed characters.
A contract.
At the corner of the page, a line of small gold characters.
Dark Banquet. Whoever breaks this contract will be devoured.
"I can handle the details. You just need to sign your name, Ethan Zhang."
A pen appeared out of thin air, floating in front of me. Black currents wrapped around my right hand, pulling it forward. The currents bound the pen to my claw, forcing me to write. I hesitated.
"Don't sign."
Suddenly, a playful scold rang out behind me—it was Sylvia Blue. I turned my head, and in a flash, the Beggar lunged past me, his filthy hand reaching for Sylvia's head.
A streak of silver light appeared in Sylvia's left hand—she gripped something, a gun. I stared in shock, and the words "Dawn Moon" surfaced in my mind.
Bang! In the snow, the gunshot was especially sharp. The Beggar froze, staring at Sylvia in pain.
"Who are you? Where did you come from? Why—"
A piercing howl—and with a snap, the Beggar turned into a wisp of black mist, vanishing before my eyes.
A long spear engraved with intricate azure patterns—reminiscent of those ancient guns from before. Its body gleamed silver, with more white than blue, elegant and beautiful, much like Sylvia herself. Though the spear was long, it gave off a delicate impression.
Just as Sylvia once drew her sword named "Prayer," the words "Dawn Moon" surfaced in my mind again—it's the name of this spear.
Sylvia immediately let go—the Dawn Moon vanished from her hand. She glanced away, hiding her gaze from me, as if afraid I'd guess something.
"Thank you, Sylvia."
I said. She clasped her hands behind her back, turned sideways, and looked a little embarrassed, lowering her head. Her long, shining white hair covered her cheeks and danced in the wind.
The power that just radiated from the spear felt familiar, but I couldn't quite place where I'd sensed it before.
Sylvia saved me again. Looking back, it was dangerous—my mind had almost been taken over by the Beggar, and I nearly signed my name.
Such a simple trick—the contract had no terms at all. If I'd signed, the Beggar could've written anything he wanted, and I would've been completely at his mercy.
After a while, the wind and snow eased. Sylvia turned to me, beaming, her eyes half-closed in a brilliant smile.
"No need."