The old cemetery keeper doesn't like days when it snows all the time - not only because the cold weather makes his already overwhelmed joints ache, but also because such snowy days always remind him of things that happened long ago.

Something not so good.

For example, the rebellion fifty years ago, the frost disaster thirty years ago, and the collapse of the southern city seventeen years ago... When it snows so heavily, there is never anything good.

The old man rubbed his hands and looked back at the cemetery which was also covered with snow.

The snow blurred the boundaries of the cemetery path. On the white ground, only footprints outlined the route to the morgue and the guardhouse. The gas lamps were off, and the black lamp poles stood on the snow like dead tree trunks, looking quite lonely.

Several steam trains were parked in an open space in the cemetery, completely covered with snow. The guards in black were struggling to clear the snow off the trains and trying to clear a path in the snow for the vehicles to pass - they looked quite embarrassed.

They have to do the job before the snow freezes and becomes more difficult to clear.

A whistling wind blew nearby, and gray smoke suddenly appeared in the wind. Agatha's figure walked out from the wind and smoke. The young gatekeeper came to the old guard and said, "Half of the people will withdraw today, leaving only two teams to help you guard the cemetery."

"It's fine if they all leave. I can have some peace and quiet." The old guard raised his eyelids and glanced at the gatekeeper. "It's a waste to keep so many people here."

“It’s not a waste of manpower—and you don’t have to worry about me running out of manpower.”

"I'm not so busy worrying about you," the old guard muttered, and then mentioned casually, "You sent an elite team out late last night. Did something happen in the city?"

Agatha looked at the old man: "Are you still concerned about things outside the cemetery?"

"I'm just asking. You can tell me or not." The old guard shrugged.

"…Something happened on Hearth Street. A fight broke out between high-level supernatural beings. It was quite noisy. The patrolling guards rushed over but came up empty-handed," Agatha said slowly. "Now we can only confirm that one of the two parties fighting was a cultist of Annihilation. They died miserably, and one of them died in a strange way that did not match any known supernatural power."

The old guard's eyebrows twitched noticeably, and his tone became more serious: "Fireplace Street?"

"... Don't worry, no innocent citizens were hurt." Agatha seemed to know what the old man was worried about. "But according to the team's report, there are more than one strange clues over there. I may have to go and check the situation myself."

The old guard said nothing, just nodded slightly, but the look in his eyes had become serious.

Agatha is a young gatekeeper, but no matter how young she is, her identity as a "gatekeeper" is obtained through rigorous training and difficult tests. As the highest representative of the church in the city-state, her actions themselves indicate the importance of the situation.

The situation on Fireplace Street was probably not as calm as her attitude showed at the moment - it was definitely not just a battle between extraordinary people. An elite team of defenders went to investigate, but in the end the gatekeeper had to go there personally to deal with it. This was no small matter.

But that is something outside the cemetery and is not something that he, as a "gravekeeper" who has retired to the second line, should be concerned about.

Let the young gatekeepers and guardians take care of it.

After a lot of effort, the guards finally cleared the snow and started the steam core of the car. Two dark gray steam cars drove out of the cemetery and soon disappeared on the path leading to the block.

The old guard watched the two cars leave, shook his head, and prepared to return to the cemetery.

But just as he was about to turn around, he suddenly saw a familiar little figure appear at the end of the path out of the corner of his eye.

A little girl in a thick coat was walking towards the cemetery with some difficulty.

The old guard stopped immediately. He looked at the small figure approaching this side, and the expression on his face seemed a little angry. At this moment, the small figure also saw the old man standing at the gate of the cemetery - she stopped by the roadside, raised her face, waved her arms happily, and then continued to walk towards the old man with one deep step and one shallow step.

Finally, she walked to the ruts left by the two steam trains that had left. Her steps finally relaxed a little, so she bent down and patted the snowflakes on the hem of her clothes and trousers. She came to the gate of the cemetery and looked at the old man in front of her with a serious and even angry face.

"Grandpa Guard, I'm here again!" Annie greeted the old guard happily.

Today she changed into a thick white coat and white long boots, and a white woolen hat on her head. She seemed to be melting in this snow-covered city.

"You're still going out in this weather, and you're running to a place like this!" The old guard glared at him and said sternly, "You'll make your family worry."

"I told my mom that I'll be back soon today," Annie smiled, her face red from the cold. "School is on vacation, and I wanted to go out with my friends, but they didn't want to go out, so I came to see you!"

"…It's better to stay at home like your friends than to run to the cemetery in the snowy weather," the old man said in a cold tone, "The cemetery is not open today. There is too much snow inside. You should go home."

However, the girl seemed not to hear him. She just leaned over to look behind the old man, then raised her face expectantly: "My father..."

"No," the old man said bluntly, "With such bad weather, even if there was a plan to send off the spirit, it would have been postponed."

Annie was stunned for a moment, but she was not very disappointed. She pursed her lips and said, "Then... I'll ask again when the weather gets better... He will come eventually, right?"

The old guard stared quietly into the child's eyes. For just a second or two, he even felt a little regretful. He regretted that he should not have made the promise to the child six years ago, "Your father will come back here." In the final analysis, his heart at that time... was still a little soft.

After being silent for an unknown amount of time, the old man finally opened his mouth: "...Maybe, one day in the future you will hear news about him."

This was his greatest euphemism.

A twelve-year-old child should have understood this long ago.

Annie blinked, a smile appeared on her face, then she reached into her small bag, took out a package and handed it to the old man in front of her.

"Biscuits again?" The old guard raised his eyebrows.

"It's ginger tea powder. I made it with my mother. I added herbs to dispel cold and warm the stomach!" Annie said proudly, stuffing the thing into the old man's hand without saying anything. "You always guard the cemetery alone, and now it's snowing. It must be very cold at night, right?"

The old man looked at what he had in his hands.

He doesn't need this - the potion supplies the church sends to the cemetery guards are ten times more effective than this thing. His seemingly flimsy guard's hut is actually covered with protective spells and special materials. Not to mention resisting the cold wind, even if the cemetery really gets out of control, the hut can withstand external impacts like a steel fortress.

"Thank you," he accepted Anne's gift. Perhaps because he hadn't smiled for a long time, the curve of his mouth was a little stiff. "This is very useful to me."

Then, his expression turned cold and hard again.

"I've accepted the things. You should go home immediately and try not to go out for the next two days."

"Why?"

"…The city is not safe recently," the old guard said seriously. He thought of what Agatha had just mentioned to him and the extraordinary incident that happened on Fireplace Street last night. "Go back and tell your mother to go out less in the near future. If you find anything wrong, ask for help from the nearest church or sheriff. Anne, this is a very serious matter. Do you remember it?"

Annie seemed to be stunned by the old man's sudden stern tone. She was stunned for a moment before nodding hurriedly: "Remember... Remember."

"Well, let's go home," the old man exhaled and ordered them to leave, "while the weather is still good..."

He raised his head and stopped speaking abruptly.

An exceptionally tall and burly figure appeared near the cemetery gate at some point, and was looking over here - the figure was wearing a long black trench coat, a wide-brimmed hat, his face was wrapped in bandages, and all the details of his body were hidden in the clothes, hat, and bandages.

There was another person next to this burly figure, a petite lady wearing an elegant dark purple dress, with blonde hair like a waterfall, a soft hat on her head, and a veil on her face. Her features could not be seen clearly, but she exuded an elegant and mysterious temperament.

But the old guard's entire attention was focused on the tall and burly figure - he stared at that direction intently, his eyeballs difficult to move as if anchored by an invisible force. Slight noises began to buzz in his mind, and slight shaking and shifting began to appear at the edge of his vision, which were obvious signs that his mind was suffering from mild pollution and interference.

The experienced old guard realized what had happened in an instant - it was the "visitor".

Because I have come into contact with this unspeakable guest many times and have fallen into a state of madness under the influence of incense, I have established a certain connection with the other party!

But it was only a preliminary and mostly harmless contact, so the old guard was not nearly incapacitated as he had been before.

He was still able to move - so he reached out and pulled Anne behind him.

"Don't look over there, kid."