“Morton Beef Soup,” an affordable breakfast spot near Lirong Inn, more of a breakfast stall than a store, has been in operation for decades. Old Morton runs the kitchen, and his grandson, Little Morton, assists him. While the grandfather is quite crafty, Little Morton is much more shy, with fair skin, somewhat handsome, and not very talkative.

The specialty beef soup served with a Hedan pancake—how to put it, Li Xin had to get used to it for a while. The beef soup is surprisingly sweet, made with a unique Hedan fruit. The pancakes are quite chewy. Though just a small stall, Simmons found them very tasty. Having been in Hedan for a while, he noticed that in terms of nobility and decorum, Hedan is a lot grander than Lirong Inn, but Simmons himself didn’t feel much of a difference.

“Tell me about your plan,” Li Xin asked while eating. “Boss, one more bowl, with two extra servings of meat.”

Upon hearing this, Simmons became excited, his eyes brightening. “Brother Li should already understand the significance of this Glory Battle. It’s crucial in Moncalleta. Currently, the favorites to win are the Eight Dukes and Four Canon Laws. I’m one of the Four Canon Laws, although we are seen as just making up the numbers. The real opportunity lies with the Eight Knight Academies.”

“So, you want to surprise them?” Li Xin took a bite of the pancake. It’s not made of wheat but Moncalleta’s golden wheat. The taste is indeed fragrant and the color is lovely. This place truly is a blessed land, just like that strange-tasting beef soup, relying entirely on quality ingredients.

“Haha, it wasn’t definite before, but now that Brother Li is willing to help me, I want to try and see if I can break into the top four. I hope Brother Li could join the Saint Grace Canon Law School as its secret weapon,” Simmons said, knowing Li Xin was likely to agree. Thinking carefully, with Li Xin’s help, it would be like gaining wings to his dreams.

“It’s not impossible,” Li Xin nodded. “Is there no restriction on joining your Canon Law School?”

“Canon Law School aims for widespread inclusion. Slaves and criminals cannot join, but others, whether Moncalleta locals or immigrants—as long as immigrants have a guarantor, are under 25, and can pay tuition—can join,” Simmons explained, clearly this was not a problem for him.

“Don’t need to worship the Earth Mother Goddess?”

Simmons chuckled, “The Mother Goddess doesn’t lack followers. Other places misunderstand us somewhat. Moncalleta people are innately very confident, whether in themselves or their deities.”

This is something Li Xin could sense from the Moncalleta people he met, from Roland to Simmons, full of love for their country. This confidence truly inspires a person.

“Alright, then let’s try it out.” With a slurping sound, Li Xin finished another large bowl. “Boss, another bowl, just like before, more meat, less sweet soup.”

“Okay, okay,” Old Morton, busy as ever, was grinning from ear to ear. Such a occasion at his small shop was rare.

“Regarding the Holy Land, tomorrow is possible. It’s just that maintaining the Gate of Truth requires an additional person. My cousin Celestia, she’s a decent Spirit Binder and a core member of our Canon Law School.”

“Sure, no problem,” Li Xin nodded.

“Brother Li, any other conditions?” Simmons asked, already prepared to go to great lengths, even outrageous ones.

Li Xin thought for a moment, “I need more freedom at the Canon Law School, no strings attached. You’ll handle all the expenses.”

“Naturally, I will take care of these minor details,” Simmons nodded.

“Boss, another bowl, don’t let your hands shake, let Little Morton add it, no leftovers. My friend is a noble, if you fool him, he’ll report you!” Li Xin bluffed.

Old Morton wasn’t at all embarrassed, but upon hearing the latter part, he didn’t dare act rashly and nudged Little Morton, giving him a look. Little Morton took a big handful with his small hand, sprinkling it generously, making Old Morton hold his forehead. For small businesses, money outranks pride; the kid wasted years in vain.

Looking at the jubilant Li Xin, Old Morton felt like he’d lost a fortune, knocking on Little Morton’s head. Little Morton just rubbed his head without a word, continuing to cook soup.

“Brother Li, anything more, just say it. I’ve mentally prepared myself,” Simmons asked, feeling a bit uneasy as Li Xin hadn’t mentioned the main points.

“Ah, just this. Oh, also, today, you’re treating,” Li Xin said.

Simmons froze upon hearing this. What? Just this?

“Boss, the bill, he’s paying!” Li Xin had enjoyed a hearty meal, and the final bowl was quite decent, leaving him satisfied. If every breakfast could be this abundant, it’d be delightful.

Old Morton approached with a smile; this one meal equaled twelve ordinary ones. This stingy young man had finally struck it lucky. Simmons was in high spirits too, patting his pocket, “Brother Li, you’re too kind. I’ll cover the Holy Land matter. Huh…”

Simmons felt a bit embarrassed. Left in a hurry in the morning, his mind occupied with handling various possibilities, he forgot to bring money.

Li Xin and Old Morton both looked disappointed, their hopes dashed, and they regarded Simmons like a trickster…

Divpo City, Outer Lighthouse No. 108.

During a routine patrol, Batty was ambushed by abyssal monsters, slaying dozens to finally escape back to the lighthouse. Under the lighthouse’s protection, the monsters halted their attack, allowing Batty to catch his breath. This incident served as a lesson not to stray too far from the lighthouse.

Recent patrols had been lenient, leading to complacency, so he ventured further. Reflecting on it now, he realized it was a monster’s scheme. Their ambush was too obvious, constantly luring him away from the lighthouse. Fortunately, Batty was skilled, and his Black Saber reliable. Otherwise, even escaping a monster siege would result in injury, which for a Lightkeeper is torment. The monster’s fluids contain poison, if it enters the body, it won’t be fatal but will cause pollution and intensify nocturnal whispers.

Batty checked his body, confirming no injuries, preparing for the backlash from wielding the Black Saber. Indeed, the backlash came, his head feeling like it was about to explode, accompanied by weakness, as though the Black Saber was draining his life. Perhaps the severe headache made this sensation less intense. Amid moments of clarity and confusion, abyssal whispers came, an indescribable sound seemingly from Hell, piercing the brain directly, evoking various negative emotions, sometimes agitation, sometimes fear, sometimes temptation. Batty remembered his training—never delve deeply into contact and thought, but instead focus on the pain…which proved futile, leading him to concentrate on the Black Saber, the mighty weapon stored within him, possessing divine power, extraordinary, perfectly suited for slaying monsters.

Oddly enough, while concentrating on the Black Saber didn’t alleviate the pain, it did avoid the lure of the whispers. He lingered like this for an indeterminate time before finally slipping into a slumber. It was just the lengthy routine of a Lightkeeper. Until the successor arrives, he must continue to endure.

Yet Batty brimmed with motivation. Despite it being arduous, being a Lightkeeper is the only path to salvation for Roto, the fortunate solution. His predecessor achieved it, and so will he; he will live a happy life with his sister, becoming an innocent person.

As Batty pondered over this, his twisted face unexpectedly wore a relaxed smile.

Little did Batty know, only after the old Lightkeeper passes, will the new one arrive…

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep