The immense walls of Qīngshí rose like a gray granite cliff. The air beneath the gate reeked of manure, sweat, and cheap incense.
The cart's axle came to a stop.
Three vehicles ahead, a peasant in ragged clothes dropped to his knees in the dust. The man's filthy hands clutched the gate guard's boots, offering a few chipped copper coins with a trembling palm.
The soldier kicked the peasant in the chest, sending the thin body flying backward. The oak shaft of the spear came down in a vertical arc.
Crack.
The wet snap of cartilage and bone breaking inward sprayed thick blood and yellowed teeth across the gravel. The guard stepped on the fallen man's hand, seized the reins of the confiscated turnip cart, and dragged the vehicle inside the walls.
In the back of the cart, a bitter taste of bile rose in Yù Méi's throat. The sound of the shattering skull and the pool of blood thickening on the stone carved the reality into the youngest's mind: this world was a slaughterhouse where weakness served as fodder.
On the driver's seat, Zhì Yuǎn remained indifferent. Beneath the shadow of his black hat, the carpenter's eyes registered the dead man only as another filthy obstacle on the road. Beside him, Yù Qíng adjusted the dark veil over her face. The disgust at the filth made the woman turn her head, fixing her gaze strictly on the collar of her husband's robe to shield her own vision.
The next guard in line marched up to the side of the cart. The tip of his spear was still dripping with the villager's blood. The soldier extended his dirty hand, flashing his rotten teeth as he demanded the toll.
Zhì Yuǎn reached into his belt and tossed two thick silver ingots.
The superior metal struck the guard's palm hard. The undeniable weight of that silver crushed any attempt at extortion on the spot. Without saying a word, Zhì Yuǎn paid the toll simply to spare his own boots from stepping in the blood on the ground before the right time.
The soldier closed his fingers around the silver and stepped back.
Zhì Yuǎn snapped the leather reins. The cart wheel rolled heavily over the wet trail of blood, crossing the gate's threshold and plunging the trio of outsiders into the streets of Qīngshí.
———
The air in the room at the Blind Dog Inn reeked of sour cabbage and old sweat.
The space on the second floor was cramped. The uneven floorboards creaked with every step. There was a large mattress in the center and a crude cot pushed against the wall, right beneath a cracked wooden window.
Zhì Yuǎn sat on the edge of the main bed and tossed his black hat onto the floor. The carpenter's broad body radiated a dense, continuous heat. The mild fever from his newly forged muscles dried the rancid moisture in the air within seconds.
In the opposite corner, the cutting night wind hissed through the cracks in the window and struck Yù Méi directly on the nape of her neck. The youngest hunched her shoulders. She hugged herself, her arms trembling beneath the fabric of her golden dress, and looked toward the center of the room. The thermal distance was brutal.
The need for shelter swallowed the girl's prudence.
— Sister… — Yù Méi called out. Her voice came out shaky, her teeth chattering slightly as she looked at the large mattress. — This window is rotten. The wind comes straight in. There's space on your bed… I can sleep there, just in the corner?
Zhì Yuǎn maintained absolute silence.
Yù Qíng untied the dark veil from her face and let the cloth fall onto the floorboards. The eldest climbed onto the mattress and fixed her black eyes directly on her younger sister.
— You're getting quite bold for a brat who was still cowering and crying in the back of the cart just yesterday morning — Yù Qíng's voice cut through the room, heavy with territorial and lethal scorn. She leaned the side of her body against Zhì Yuǎn's arm, marking her possession. — This mattress can barely support your brother-in-law's frame, and the fire that comes off his skin is mine. If the wind bothers you, shove your face under the cot. Trying to share the same bed as us is the fastest way for you to wake up with your neck broken.
The warning froze Yù Méi's breath in her throat.
The teenager's blood sank heavily to her feet. She turned her face to the damp wall at once, pulling the rough blanket over her head. The cold in her joints continued to punish her skin, but the terror of testing her sister's cruelty silenced the room until dawn.
———
The afternoon sun beat down on the stone pavement of Qīngshí's market.
The main street was a noisy slaughterhouse. Fabric stalls shared space with butchers dismembering carcasses. The smell of boiled cabbage mixed with the raw odor of fresh blood and sweat.
In the middle of the crowd, an empty space followed the three outsiders.
Zhì Yuǎn walked in front. The gray tunic hung heavily over his shoulders and the brim of his black hat hid his face. He didn't push anyone, but the density of his muscles and the constant heat from his skin made the peasants instinctively step back, opening a path through the filth.
Beside him, Yù Qíng's navy-blue silk brushed against her husband's arm. With her face covered by the dark veil, the woman ignored the street, her eyes fixed straight ahead.
Behind them, Yù Méi clutched the fabric of her skirt with sweaty hands. After the warning in the inn room, the youngest walked with her head lowered. She stepped in Zhì Yuǎn's footprints, using his broad back as her only safe shelter.
The alley opened into the vastness of a black limestone square. The immense bronze doors of the Commerce Pavilion rose at the far end.
Before they could advance, a brutal thunder of hooves shattered the quiet of the stone.
A colossal carriage invaded the courtyard. Twelve silver-armored guards escorted the vehicle, marching in heavy synchronization.
The force of the guard crushed the air. The weight of that joint cultivation made the merchants in the square immediately drop to their knees on the stone, pressing their foreheads to the ground to clear a path for the elite.
Behind Zhì Yuǎn, Yù Méi's legs gave out.
Hostile gravity struck the teenager's chest, drying her lungs in a choke. The youngest's knees buckled toward the dirty gravel.
Zhì Yuǎn took a step back.
The man's broad body blocked the front of the girl. His dense musculature formed an exact physical barrier. The heat of the Golden Qi boiling in his veins clashed against the guard's aura, nullifying the atmospheric pressure in the same instant.
Yù Méi stumbled forward and pressed her trembling face against her brother-in-law's back. Air returned to her lungs in a desperate rush. The intense heat radiating from his body enveloped her like a shield. For a second, the terror vanished completely — only an absurd sense of safety remained.
She closed her eyes tightly, inhaling the warm scent of linen and skin. Something inside her clenched her stomach. It wasn't just relief. It was a deep, almost painful desire to never leave that shelter again.
A silent and dangerous greed began to take root.
From the other side of the square, the captain of the silver guard noticed the anomaly: while everyone knelt, only three people remained standing.
The soldier's gaze locked onto the group. His hand tightened around the hilt of his saber, ready to advance. But in the next millisecond, something inside him screamed. His hand stopped mid-motion. A cold sweat ran down the captain's nape.
He looked at the man in the gray tunic and, for the first time in many years, decided that his life was worth more than his pride. Without saying a word, he released the saber's hilt, turned his face forward with mechanical rigidity, and continued marching as if he had seen absolutely nothing.
The courtyard, which moments earlier had been a sea of mixed sounds, fell completely silent. The silence descended so suddenly and densely that it felt as though even the air had been sucked out of the square.
— You can let go of him now — Yù Qíng's voice cut through the air, low and sharp. — If you take even one more second, I'll break your fingers.
Yù Méi froze. Then she released the fabric of the tunic with a quick, trembling motion, as if she had been caught doing something wrong. She lowered her head and took a step back.
Zhì Yuǎn turned on his heels and continued walking without looking back, as if the two sisters weren't about to kill each other right there.
Yù Méi followed right behind, once again stepping in his footprints across the newly emptied courtyard.
Two dark breastplate guards flanked the entrance to the pavilion, wielding massive Bone-Iron spears. The rigid posture of the sentinels overflowed with the brutality of the 4th Mortal Stage.
When Zhì Yuǎn took his final step, the two spears slammed together with an aggressive crash, sealing the gap.
— The Pavilion does not accept silver stained by peasants — the guard's voice rasped with mockery, evaluating Zhì Yuǎn's rustic tunic. — The door toll costs three Spirit Stones. Turn around before we break your legs.
Yù Méi held her breath, her nails digging into her golden skirt.
Zhì Yuǎn's response was strictly physical.
The young man raised his right hand in a calm motion and placed his palm directly over the crossed shafts of the spears. The guards' mocking smiles lasted for the exact fraction of a second before the impact.
The carpenter's broad shoulders pulled back. The raw weight of his forged muscles descended into his phalanges, and his calloused fingers closed around the shafts.
The screech of crushed metal tore through the square.
The Bone-Iron spears caved inward like rotten sticks. The brutal friction heated the point of grip until the metal turned incandescent, filling the air with the smell of burning rust. The jolt of raw force traveled up the ruined shafts and collided against the sentinels' arms.
Crack.
Bones snapped wetly. The two guards' arms broke from the inside out. The instant failure of their tendons locked the men in place. They dropped their weapons at the same moment, their knees buckling on the limestone under the acute agony of torn flesh.
Zhì Yuǎn opened his hand. The block of molten metal fell onto the stone with a dull thud.
From the shadows inside the pavilion, slow footsteps echoed. A chainmail-clad manager emerged from the penumbra. Cold sweat drenched the man's neck, betraying the terror beneath his polished merchant's smile as his eyes evaluated the melted and smoking Bone-Iron on the ground.
— Spirit Stones are mere gravel before the strength of a true mountain — the manager bowed deeply, his spine bent in profound and terrified reverence. — The Pavilion begs forgiveness for the blindness of our dogs. The doors now rest open.
Zhì Yuǎn stepped on the twisted metal with his boot, crushing the slag into the stone, and crossed the bronze threshold. Beside him, Yù Qíng sustained the passage of her navy-blue silk over the steps in absolute silence.
Yù Méi marched right behind.
The heat of the street vanished the moment they crossed the doors. The interior of the Pavilion was cold. The air smelled of expensive sandalwood, mixed with the sweat of the mercenaries circulating through the hall. The rustic limestone floor gave way to polished dark jade slabs.
Inside the display cases protected by glowing formations, artifacts and cultivation scrolls were exhibited like luxury goods. Yù Méi felt the weight of the wealth surrounding her. The contrast between her cheap cotton dress and that environment made her stop for a moment, her feet heavy on the jade floor.
Even so, the cure for her channels and the chance to obtain the same power that Zhì Yuǎn possessed were right there. Her hesitation lasted only briefly. The youngest clenched her jaw, released the hem of her skirt, and moved forward, walking in her brother-in-law's shadow.