Chapter 118: The Last Breakfast

Meanwhile, outside the Fog Inn, silver snakes of lightning bit wildly at the dark sky as if trying to tear it asunder. The torrential rain fell like the blood and tears of the heavens, seeping into the boundless graveyard and nourishing the restless spirits hidden deep within the shadows. Atop the largest burial mound, a man in white stood with his white lantern, gazing toward the inn. From afar, the endless expanse of tombs seemed to form a colossal black vessel.

The white-clad reaper, lantern in hand, steered his dark ship toward the Fog Inn.

"It is time to return. Everything must come to an end."

...

Seeing Luo Hanyai emerge from the room carrying Xiao Feng, Shi Can leapt up like a rabbit whose tail had been stepped on. His face, already hideous to the point of terror, twisted into a knot, resembling a demon spreading a profound sense of dread.

"Shi Can, why don't you lead the way?" Observing Shi Can’s terrified expression, Luo Hanyai shook his head. He did not know why Shi Can feared Xiao Feng so deeply, but some horrifying event must have occurred between them, planting a seed of terror in the man's heart.

Shi Can nodded as if granted amnesty. He hunched his back like a pathetic rat and scurried ahead, his dim lantern swaying in rhythm with his trembling hands.

Luo Hanyai followed, passing through the gloomy corridor and treading down the creaking staircase. With only five or six steps remaining before reaching the lobby, he narrowed his eyes—perhaps due to a hallucination or perhaps because the lobby lights were exceptionally bright—adjusting to the starkly different environment.

"Shi Can, why were you gone for so long?" Before Luo Hanyai even reached the lobby, a warm voice greeted him.

*Is that Macarius? Isn't he supposed to be an outsider?* Luo Hanyai felt a sudden pang of disappointment, even fear. He was unsure if Macarius was friend or foe. The thought of someone whose intellect could crush his own suddenly turning into an enemy made him shiver; the prospect was simply too daunting to contemplate.

Luo Hanyai shook his head, casting all negative thoughts from his mind. He took a deep breath and stepped into the lobby. The previously empty table was now occupied by a man with a benevolent, smiling face—it was indeed Macarius.

"Sir, please, have a seat," Shi Can said, gesturing toward the table. He darted a glance at Xiao Feng, who lay with closed eyes on Luo Hanyai’s shoulder, then immediately lowered his head as if avoiding a plague.

The table, once bare, was now laden with a lavish breakfast. Slices of golden toast were piled high, layered with tender, white slices of meat. In the center sat a giant platter holding a sea turtle egg, surrounded by an abundance of small, translucent buns with red, succulent fillings—likely the most exquisite shrimp dumplings. Crisp, vibrant lettuce leaves cradled tempting red apples. Milk, soy milk, tea, and wine lined the edges of the table, offering a choice for every palate.

"Such a sumptuous breakfast... it feels like a send-off. This wouldn't be a 'last supper,' would it?" For some reason, these words were the first to cross Luo Hanyai’s mind.

"Ho! The protagonist of the day has arrived," Macarius remarked. He did not look at Luo Hanyai, instead tilting his head as he savored his fog tea, acting like a boisterous old madman.

"Why do you call me the protagonist?" Luo Hanyai sat down beside Macarius, staring into his eyes as he spoke, enunciating every word.

"Hehe, I cannot say, I cannot say. It was a slip of the tongue. More accurately, everyone who comes here is a protagonist." Macarius opened his eyes slightly, smiling without a hint of vulnerability.

"Then you are a protagonist as well. I wonder what role you are playing?" Luo Hanyai pressed, determined to get to the bottom of it.

"I am responsible for this part." Macarius didn't explain further, instead pulling a card from his pocket. "This is the part I represent."

It was a Tarot card. On it, a young man was petting a large dog—a beast so strong, massive, and heavily boned, with a short muzzle and shallow forehead, that it looked less like a dog and more like a bear.

"This is..." Luo Hanyai pondered for a moment, then looked at Macarius meaningfully. "A Caucasian Shepherd?"

"Exactly." Macarius smiled, leaned his head back, and began to hum the Anhui folk song *Jasmine Flower*, sounding like an ordinary old farmer.

Luo Hanyai exhaled, his racing heart finally settling. Clearly, Macarius harbored no malice; the image of petting a Caucasian Shepherd symbolized friendship. The righteous never stooped to such deceptive tricks. They would let their opponents willingly step into well-laid traps, defeating them with grand, upright strategy. Macarius was evidently one of those "pedantic" righteous figures—brilliant in intellect, yet open and honorable.

...

*Creak...* A long, drawn-out sound of wood friction echoed from the entrance. Someone had entered the inn.

"So many people already." The man in white hung his lantern on the wall and took his seat, completely indifferent to Luo Hanyai’s complex gaze.

"Who are you, really? Even now, will you not let me see your true face?" Luo Hanyai asked, feeling a slight headache as he looked at the man’s face, which remained shrouded in mist. He could not understand the reason for this secrecy.

"I have no face, no body, and no fate, which is why you cannot see me," the man in white replied with a cryptic smile.

"Can you at least give me a codename?" Luo Hanyai shrugged, giving up on the name and asking for a title instead.

"A codename? Hahaha! I have no face, no body, no fate—how could I have a codename?" The man laughed heartily, as if he had heard the funniest joke in the world.

"Then what should I call you? Lord Reaper?" Luo Hanyai stared at him, unfazed, even finding the spirit to tease him.

"If you insist on a title, you might as well call me Mr. Fog."

Luo Hanyai carried Xiao Feng over to the man in white and asked in a voice only they could hear, "Why did you make me go there last night?"

"You will know soon enough." The man in white casually picked up an apple from the table and took a large bite.

"Is it not late enough already?"

"Of course not; it is still quite early. Someone will tell you, but that person will not be me."