In the bustling bar, the sound of music and people’s conversations rose and fell, their silhouettes becoming increasingly blurred against the backdrop of lights and smoke. After a night of revelry, their emotions were ignited time and again, until nothing was left.

The bar lights had turned into a soft and warm yellow, the music gradually softened, the harsh noise had served its purpose in the air, and became silent instead. The bartenders began to tidy cups and clean tables, while other patrons slowly departed, returning to their own lives.

At this moment, the bar became extraordinarily deserted, the air filled with a faint scent of alcohol. A weary man sat quietly in the corner, savoring the liquor in his glass. There was no one left beside him; all objects for communication and exchange had departed, leaving him with nothing but infinite loneliness and solitude.

The silhouettes around him grew increasingly sparse, the man’s face appeared somewhat tired, occasionally lifting his glass for a sip and glancing at the gradually brightening sky outside.

The man had been in this bar for several hours; as time passed, he felt trapped among strangers, fearing the feeling of being forgotten from the depths of his heart. In the corner, he quietly reminisced about today’s revelry, yet could not help feeling how these emotions seemed meaningless after they ended.

In the echoes of revelry, he remained alone, occasionally looking up at the departing figures of others’ laughter. Honestly, he envied these people, but he was unwilling to gain satisfaction through social circles. He understood that, for the Undead, such satisfaction was but fleeting; perhaps, in the blink of an eye, these people would be old and decrepit.

"Is this the curse of the Undying Body?" Serey muttered softly, his eyes becoming a bit dreamy, "Everything becomes slow yet swift, meaningless."

Revelry, passing time, letting alcohol numb everything, then at sunrise, feeling the void of life with the remaining sober will.

Such things have repeated countless day and night in Serey’s life. He always thought he had grown used to it all, but when the cycle came again, Serey still felt pain, his heart, supposed to be numb, twitched as if by instinct.

The pain was raw and vivid, as if telling Serey, he was still alive.

"Just like the sick, slicing their wrists with a knife..." Serey muttered quietly.

The more he thought about it all, the more Serey felt the pain and unease deep within himself. He knew his suppressed emotions would explode under alcohol’s influence, putting him in a confused state. After all, people needed a release after holding in for too long.

In the early years, Serey liked to use the power of alcohol to pick fights with others. Leveraging his advantages as an Undead, he was always the winner. Later, he became more numb, losing even the motivation to throw a punch. He focused on embracing women, lying in their tender embrace, but gradually, even these failed to interest Serey.

Over time, Serey could clearly feel his desires, energy, and motivation being ground down, consumed. Now, after being drunk, his emotions resembled a cold corpse, without a hint of fluctuation.

Serey realized all this; he was moving toward death in an alternative manner, a death of insensitivity and numb despair.

Thinking about it, it was quite terrifying.

Rising to his feet, a brief stretch, Serey walked out of the bar to a familiar scene outside. He had seen it a thousand times.

The sky was gray, the whole city in a state of tranquility. Vehicles and pedestrians on the street had decreased significantly, only sparse headlights and streetlamps barely lit up some areas. The wanderers at the street corners had long returned home, and lights in skyscrapers had quietly dimmed.

However, as the sun rose slowly, the city began to awaken from slumber, the sky gradually grew brighter, the color of dawn transitioned from pale gray to light blue, as if the world was moving from darkness to light.

Serey quickened his pace. The sunrise, the city’s awakening, was a scene full of vitality for many people, but for Serey, such vitality was poison.

"Like a wild dog on the run, but you and I both know, we can’t escape; it’s destined."

Serey continued whispering to himself, like a strange conversation of self-questioning and answering.

The street scene around him began to change, under the influence of alcohol, some strange thoughts emerged in Serey’s mind.

Serey knew well that he was an entity unrestricted by time and space. He could linger anywhere and directly observe the changes of time.

He was a revered Night Race Lord, possessing an Undying Body. He would not age, suffer illness, or face death, yet this seemingly appealing "immortality" brought him endless solitude and pain.

As time passed, Serey watched countless people leave him. He once had close partners and lovers, but they all parted from him in the river of time. He observed the world’s transformations and the rise and fall of civilizations, yet he couldn’t truly integrate into this world, till he felt completely isolated from it, till he started questioning the meaning of his existence.

Fatigue and pain often lingered in Serey’s heart; at times, he longed to end this prolonged life, just like now, if only slowing his steps, letting the sunlight catch up to him...

Like a mad race between life and death.

Thinking of this, Serey chuckled to himself, such races between life and death had played out countless times in his past days.

But each time, Serey defeated Death God, yet lost to his own cowardice.

He indeed was a coward, just like his father.

In this contradiction, Serey began to doubt whether "immortality" really had meaning, whether his existence could truly be called "life."

His life seemed to lack any substantive purpose or meaning.

The first ray of sunlight fell, first shining on Serey’s clothes, then sweeping past his neck. A burning pain quickly released, spreading along nerves to his whole body.

Sunlight’s pain far exceeded all limits of sensation, but Serey showed no reaction, his skin turned gray-white, like consumed wood, a bit of thick smoke rose, followed by the break of ashes, revealing hollow blood holes.

Serey could clearly feel the warmth of the sunlight behind him until bright flames burned on his skin. The pain deep in his bones and instinctive fear made him lose control of his body.

Serey’s pace quickened, breaking into a sprint until shadows covered him again. He bent over, panting painfully, then a massive sadness and self-blame rose in his heart.

Each time he survived, Serey always questioned whether he truly possessed courage, his confidence riddled with holes, his dignity long burned away.

Looking up, Serey noticed a familiar figure standing not far away, blocking his path, watching intently.

"You look quite pathetic, Serey."

Bologue spoke; he had been here early, just wanting to inquire something from Serey, but did not expect to see him in such a sorry state.

"Oh, Bologue, back from your trip?"

A confident smile arose on Serey’s face, a stark contrast to his former self. He tidied his long hair, his steps became steady and firm, and within seconds, he transformed from a drunkard back to his noble identity.

"I have something to ask you," Bologue said.

"A lot of people have come looking for me lately," Serey shook his head, "Sorry, Bologue, I can’t say anything. That’s the rule."

"Then I can tell you about something else," Bologue said.

"Next time, I’m very tired, time to go back and sleep."

Serey bypassed Bologue directly, watching his back, Bologue shouted aloud.

"We’ve made some progress regarding the Night Race, Lebius says they call themselves the Rebellious Royal Court, led by a High Tier Night Race named Regent King."

"Olivia!"

Bologue called out her name, as Serey’s pace halted simultaneously.

"Is she related to the Rebellious Royal Court? After all, she’s also a Night Race who left the Land of Eternal Night..."

Serey turned his head, the drunkenness in his eyes vanished. He was a noble Night Race Lord, son of the Night King, alcohol had never affected him in the slightest.

"I also saw a name erased by you on the Dawn Oath, a name not bound by the oath, would that name be Olivia Villeries?"

Bologue sorted through his thoughts, made a deduction.

"Serey, did your mercy at that time create a new Empire?"