Yinlan City, part 5

The towering blaze painted half the Inner Subsidiary City’s sky crimson.

Once assured every soul beast burned to nothing, Tang Yueling recalled her fire seed, Ten Million.

The earth fire burrowed back into her body; she exhaled, dragon-like, sparks scattering like tiny fireworks.

Introspecting, her spiritual veins flowed like magma, flames tinting her eyes red.

Tang Yueling savored it, brows lighting with joy. “Ten Million grew stronger—now Twelve Million.”

“Felt it.” Tian Ning patted sleeve sparks. Second-tier disciple robes couldn’t withstand fourth-tier earth fire—two holes burned through.

Only then did Tang Yueling grasp Tian Ning’s casual snow-sprinkling, ice-trailing feeling.

Tian Ning carried Tang Yueling down; Pei Jingzhi sword-leaped to the roof. First team reunited.

Dawn glimmers appeared—fire extinguished but dispersed local fog, revealing the sky.

In the central area, white snowflakes fell, melting on lashes into mist.

Su Qing realized: Yinlan City’s snow season.

Snow dissolved in poison before ground, explaining the fog’s damp chill.

“Let’s see first street’s true face.”

Soul beasts gone, exploration eased.

Half a day covered every corner; Pei Jingzhi’s array disk vibrated, detecting.

Eight contactable teams accelerated, finishing nearly simultaneously.

Outside, Deng Mingjian at tent table frowned, calculating.

Before him: black-white array disk with sixty golden eyes—Xu Ruyi’s Sky Eyes, array pieces.

Each eye a student; as they moved, Yinlan City’s map rebuilt like 3D sand art.

Unexplored parts blurred but didn’t hinder.

Like chess, he placed golden anchors on grid lines.

“Fog thins east to west, converges at seventh street… Per array flags, earth pulse northwest…”

Golden anchors floated, linking lines, weaving, converging at one node.

Deng Mingjian tapped it, mind clearing. To waiting Xu Ruyi and Lin Hebai: “Array eye here. Solved.”

A fifth-tier superior maze-teleport nested array.

As a fifth-tier array master, he barely managed in three days.

Lin Hebai’s glare helped efficiency.

Lin Hebai eyed the landmark: unassuming old temple.

Xu Ruyi exhaled. “Danger near eye—withdraw students first. Hebai, destroy it after.”

Lin Hebai awaited this. “Good.”

…

Soon, Lin Ziyue’s communication talisman lit—Xu Ruyi: “Mission complete. Teams withdraw from Inner Subsidiary City.”

Lin Ziyue coughed blood from her nose, wiping casually—Body School influence roughened her.

“Elder Xu orders withdrawal.”

Su Qing eyed her scraped face, oddly envious.

Third day in, third in poison fog. Su Qing unaffected—not good.

Body cultivation: destroy-repair cycle. No destroy, no gain—she lost out!

Breaths deepened, inhaling more.

She collected fog in storage for poison resistance training.

Pei Jingzhi’s eyelids twitched; vowed: never provoke her.

Tian Ning and Tang Yueling: dry, itchy skin.

Pei Jingzhi and Lin Ziyue: faint blood spots; Pei worst, lips purple—early poisoning.

Robes held till exit. @Infinite Good Reads, Only at Jinjiang Literature City

En route out, met other teams—even three lost ones, rescued post-soul beasts.

Injuries non-fatal: worst, Talisman disciple with chunk bitten off—regrow with muscle-bone pills.

Others: skin layer burned—minor.

Body School: injuries good if not dead, stronger after.

For first team: Pei Jingzhi worst—three broken ribs; others unscathed.

Withdrawal lighter than entry.

Teams gathered, chattering: “Huge fire—never seen!” “Array folks nag—good my fist harder than heads.” “Where’d all that wine come?” “Big deed—city lord treat us?”

All talking: gibberish. Then silence, then: “We burned the city lord mansion!”

“Burned clean—no wood left!”

“Awesome!”

“City lord mansion?” Su Qing reacted. “Yinlan city lord?”

Tang Yueling still sparked: “Yan family!”

Sword Sect’s first Yinlan battle: torched top clan Yan’s mansion—her idea.

Yan famed for spears.

Burned is burned, Su Qing thought.

Yan should thank them.

Week later, Lin Hebai shattered array eye; fog receded.

Indeed teleported from Ten Thousand Beasts Forest—perpetrator callous, vile.

Culprit unknown; elders to discuss with Yan patriarch in city.

Artifact, Pill, Beast Schools finally reached Pinghe City.

Two weeks: fog fully cleared, revealing ravaged Inner Subsidiary ruins.

Pinghe lord sent rescue with Sword Sect students, searching survivors.

415 saved from the man-made disaster.

Soon, Lin Ziyue’s talisman: Xu Ruyi again—“Mission complete. Withdraw.”

(Repeated segment omitted for brevity.)

Survivors wept, then knelt toward Sword Sect camp, three distant kowtows.

Su Qing’s instinct: flee. Students flustered, speechless.

Survivors didn’t disturb, rose silently, left.

Pinghe lord: relocated to other towns.

Alive—bitter or tiring, life continues.

Spring: perhaps return; Inner Subsidiary theirs again.

Su Qing often thought: no great difference from them—better luck.

Couldn’t bear similar pushed to mud.

Hoped others fared well.

Thus, fog plotter utterly abhorrent.

Week later, Yan recalled Heart-Protecting Mirror; barrier to Main City opened.

Sword Sect sent six cloud boats through snow into Yinlan City.

That day: grand celebration.

All Sword Sect students invited; elders generously holidayed them to explore.

Terrain differed from Sword Sect’s mountains, mild climate.

Here: rugged, freezing, snowing. Pedestrians in patchwork furs, hurried; streets quiet.

Population unclear—too cold; none lingered.

Su Qing, cultivator and idler, did.

Buildings: heavy stone, mud; sealed, small windows, poor light; walls beast-hide covered against wind; steep roofs anti-snow collapse.

Ground: rough stone or snow paths—chilling soles.

Tang Yueling hated climate, room-bound. Su Qing: needed to vent fire—Twelve Million burned their bedding, curtains, table; nearly the cloud boat.

Boat burned? Su Qing dreaded sect leader’s bill—Twelve Million to billion; lifelong indenture. Unacceptable.

Tian Ning practiced sword, uninterested in outings. Su Qing wandered alone, curious.

Entered a wound-medicine shop, picked commons. At checkout, casually:

“Yes.” Clerk in rat-fur coat, fingers red from cold, beamed. “Evening parade, later square bonfire—meat, wine free. Join the fun.”

Su Qing: “Beast tide urgent—time for celebration?”

“True.” Clerk: “But tides in waves, not constant. Insider: our lord felled a big one—beast clan reeling. Celebrate!”

Pressed, he clammed: see yourself.

Afternoon: streets decorated.

Households: colorful ribbons, flags—long ropes with fabric scraps fluttering like cut banners in wind.

Some: colorful fur tapestries on doors.

Quickly, cold stone homes vibrant, fuzzy.

Near evening: beast-hide lanterns, wall lamps lit. Hide inflated by candle heat, round, bright.

City ignited fast.

Orange light on snow warmer than sun.

Snow stopped; distant clouds edged pink-blue aurora band.

Cold air; snow, clouds, glow reflected—bright yet gentle. Even foggy, black Ten Thousand Beasts Forest outlined gold.

Su Qing watched, estimated parade time, headed main road for army march.

Then: distant booming drums—like on eardrums; she nearly jumped.

Drums to lively flutes, rough xiao; then bronze gongs, building intensity.

Strings joined—like event prelude.

Su Qing: celebration music.

Quiet streets burst with joyful faces.

“Music! Starting!”

“Hurry, grab spots!”

“Cold—wear new fur!”

So many—where from daytime emptiness?

Crowd filled streets; from above: colorful feathered heads indistinguishable. Tide carried Su Qing dizzily to main road.

Squeezed roadside: avenues packed, all ages in feathered/fur hats, vivid on snow; faces painted sacred patterns—festive.

Heads surging like washer drum, noise woven into waves, undrowned by rising music.

Every two meters: iron-armored, felt-hatted soldiers with spears; militia torches.

Watched rowdy kids lest they block parade.

Wine barrels roadside, red liquid with ladles—purpose unknown.

No longer cold—body heat, breaths.

Children’s laughs, cries; girls debating tunes; elders praising lord.

Su Qing: city adored their lord.

After three music rounds, thunderous hooves from road’s end—like meteors striking.

All gazed sourceward.

Su Qing craned, tiptoed—height regret. Spiritual lift ten centimeters—crowd shoved her down; tiptoed obediently.

“City lord!”

“Lord’s here!”

Music hotter, drums urgent—hooves unmasked.

At admiring gazes’ end: warhorse rider.

Horse majestic, ink-black fur, snow-white hooves—could steal show.

But carried Yinlan’s lord: Yan Chi—doomed to background.

Yan Chi lounged, reins loose in one hand.

Tall—near 1.9 meters.

Half-armored: silver-black plates like natural dragon scales on lithe, powerful frame, outlining intimidating muscles.

Black hair in gem-beaded braids cascading.

Eye tails red-painted patterns, enhancing vivid, deep gaze.

Formidable warrior; leisurely yet undeniable—other hand gripped dragon-scale spear, tip impaling grotesque beast head, face horrific, unclosed eyes.

Before Yan Chi: destined rest, or she’d kill again.

Crowd chanted unison:

“Yan Chi! Yan Chi! Yan Chi!”

Beside: white-horse teen general, puffed cheeks sulky; identical twin nudged, hint smile.

Yan Chi advanced lightly, leading iron-blood Yan army into cheers.

She scanned, laughed: “Splash the wine.”

Permission: crowd rushed barrels, ladling red wine, splashing Yan army.

Arcs bloomed, drenching leaders—Yinlan’s unique blessing.

Yan Chi first target—soaked instantly.

Unbothered, slicked wet hair; red wine traced jaw.

She boomed laugh: “Follow me to celebration—drink, eat meat!” @Infinite Good Reads, Only at Jinjiang Literature City