Night fell.

The night draped like an ink-black curtain, studded with twinkling stars. After the bloody night, the moon hung brighter, casting enchanting light.

“It’s getting late…” Sky Qi finally noticed the darkness. Magic street lamps flickered on. Countless homes glowed with colorful magic lights, warming the night like a cozy bake.

Having a home was wonderful. But as the Continent Strongest, he’d never known his own identity since birth. No one raised him; he survived alone.

His insane talent and luck let him scrape by. He’d never seen his parents. No family, utterly alone.

Gazing at the myriad lit windows, a trace of melancholy hit him. The afterglow dimly lit the street, turning it gloomy.

He faintly heard sounds from homes: sizzling pans, chatter, laughter, even magic drills and workout grunts.

The Continent Strongest ending up like this—no one else could manage it. Now he had no place to sleep. He sat on a street bench, staring blankly.

Wearing the Unicorn Mage Mask, he wore a new face. Naturally, he couldn’t return to his old house.

In this mild weather, a scarf felt awkward. Sky Qi pursed his lips slightly.

Better head back to the inn. Sky Qi instinctively patted his pocket for the key. His expression turned grave.

Another serious problem. What the hell? The key was lost! He slapped his forehead. Damn. Tonight, he’d sleep on the streets.

With only two gold coins to his name, robbers weren’t a worry.

A cool breeze brushed his face. Sky Qi sniffed.

People bustled past under the night: young couples whispering sweetly, kids skipping with moms, occasional horse carriages rolling by. Their expressions were clear.

Bored to death, Sky Qi yawned. How could he sleep so early? Better wander around.

He stretched, stood from the bench, and joined the crowd.

“I heard the Empire Idol, Molin, is performing at the Christmas Eve night market. True?”

“Just a rumor. I never go, but came tonight for this.”

“She’s the Empire Idol! My goddess! One glimpse, and I’d die content.”

“Hey, pervert, is she really that amazing?”

“Of course! You’ll see,” the young man snapped back.

With strength partially restored, Sky Qi’s hearing was sharp. Every word reached his ears.

So the Empire Idol was coming? Tonight was Christmas Eve. Living as the Continent Strongest these years, he’d drifted in a daze. He’d forgotten important days—even his birthday. Or if he ever had one.

This city had night markets? Sky Qi was surprised.

But bright lights illuminated the streets, turning it into the CityofNoNight. Lavish house decorations made a night market inevitable.

He thought of Lin Xiarri’s blacksmith shop. Its shabby, almost broken-down state clashed with the city.

Sky Qi had complained about it countless times. Lin Xiarri always brushed him off, citing no money for repairs.

A night market meant snacks. Starving for days, he licked his lips. Then shook his head in disappointment.

Two gold coins! What could they buy? A meager meal at some cheap diner, at best.

Sky Qi sighed deeply, jiggling the coins in his palm.

Unconsciously, he followed the crowd to a bustling night market.

People laughed and flowed. Couples held hands. Vendors displayed snacks under bright lights. Steam from boilers rose, painting the night.

Through the haze, distant houses shimmered like mirages.

Street lamps glowed like flowing starlight. Neon signs twinkled dreamily.

Eastern vendors shouted energetically. Eyes shone with longing. After a day’s toil, everyone reveled.

Sky Qi jiggled the coins again, shaking his head with a bitter smile. He stared at the food, eyes wide. But he yanked his arm back.

Two gold coins? Worthless! Spend them, and he’d starve later. Might even have to sell himself.

Besides, prices here were steep. Unpaid meals meant awkward fights. He could beat weaker A Rank opponents easily—but with strength just back, he avoided trouble.

He forced a warm, friendly smile.

“May tonight be pleasant. No weird incidents, please.” Sky Qi closed his eyes and prayed.

He looked around curiously. Interesting sights made him stare wide-eyed. Vendors shifted awkwardly—he seemed like a naive kid who’d never played outside.

Truthfully, his life was fighting and hanging with mercenaries. Besides bar drinks, he’d never visited a night market in sixteen years.

He felt no shame. Magic let him slip through crowds, gently pushing past blockers. Some glared unhappily.

The Unicorn Mage Mask hid him. If things soured, he’d change faces and names again. Easy survival.

He spotted beautiful girls. But the crowd kept distance. No close contact meant no magic drain. His last worry vanished.

Someone shouted, “Look! Our Empire Idol Molin is here!”