Yinlan City, part 6

The air thick with lingering potent wine scent, Yan Chi led, beast head impaled, black horse, Yan army ahead in the uproar.

Later, she’d join the martial field banquet with citizens, merchants, aiding forces—drinking, music.

Crowds splashed wine on Yan army; in jostling, Su Qing’s arm got doused.

Cold liquid warmed on skin, wind igniting like flames, blood surging.

Crowd flowed to martial field; Su Qing followed, Sword Sect invited—good for experience.

Suddenly, waist push—a braided eleven-twelve girl, face wind-chapped red, nose runny, striking black birthmark from eye corner to temple, eerie.

She buried into Su Qing’s waist, frowning: “So hard!”

Unfazed, flailing: “Sorry, let me pass!”

Su Qing sidestepped a gap; girl yelled “Excuse!” wriggling fish-like through, arms tight, toward street edge.

Behind: dozen dirty fur-wrapped kids drilling under arms, drawing complaints: “Where’d these brats come, barging!”

“Ow, my waist—stop! Where’re parents?”

Seeing forehead red bird marks, complaints hushed to murmurs.

“Poor things…”

Red bird: undying phoenix, Old Temple emblem—orphans raised there, parents mostly beast tide victims.

Kids ignored, mud-like crowd to looser edge. Birthmark girl fastest, slipping militia, to wine barrel, ladling to douse self.

Passing crone frowned: “Noribayin, what’re you doing?”

Girl startled—caught by Herb Hall’s Granny Alan, froze.
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Militia reacted, grabbing hand, seizing ladle.

Full name Noribayin, usually Bayin. She and temple kids roamed streets, playing wildly, hair iced with sweat. Residents, especially snack vendors, knew them.

Starving, they’d squat outside, blushing, stammering for leftovers, hot water.

Temple once manageable—meager but filling. Post-fog cutoff, supplies scarce, they skipped meals.

Now over.

Bayin released; ladle plopped, splashing red. Wrist hurt, no cry—glaring barrel, defiant.

Others caught too.

Militia headache: “Bayin, fine celebration—go drink, eat meat.

Late to field, only bones to lick!”

Bayin: “Azamu says we’re cursed, bad luck—need blood wine cleanse.

But he farts lies—I don’t believe.”

Militia dubious: “Disbelieve but here?”

“I want to be Batal!” Bayin chin up. “Only blood-wine splashed are Batal!”

Batal: Yinlan brave warrior, guardian—splashed meant recognized.

Militia face-changed, waving: “Go, nonsense.

Kid half-grown dreaming Batal.

Only lord-like fierceness, Yan army aura—that’s Batal!”

Crone tightened cloak, grave: “Bayin, not splashed to be Batal—Batal to be splashed. Reversed.”

Eyeing stubborn gaze, provoked: “True Batal? Tonight martial contest—win first, lord awards wine.”

Bayin deflated—no contest win stealing wine.

Gun-based; scrawny, short—no chance.

—

Su Qing reached martial field; Sword Sect mostly there. Vast grounds: sixty-six large, one-twenty small bonfires.

Citizens outer rings, layered; soldiers patrolled. Other forces inner.

Sword Sect: three large central fires, two schools sharing for drinking, roasting.

Meat: Ten Thousand Beasts spiritual beasts.

Month cutoff: Yan Chi distributed tide beast meat as rations. Fog gone, roads open—meat lavish tonight.

To avoid fights, school clashes: fire allocation clever—Body-Artifact, Beast-Pill, Talisman-Array.

Xiao Cao sneaked to Su Qing’s, blending Body-like.

Their meat: mountain-sized original—huge rib rack, ten-meter leg.

Aura matched Yan Chi’s parade beast head!

“If not mistaken…” Su Qing eyed wide. “Nascent Soul beast?”

Tang Yueling casual: deserved. “Solved big issue—good food due.”

Su Qing choked: more than good—cultivation!

Fourth-tier hide tough—same-tier artifact needed. Lin Hebai tore bare-handed.

Artifact elder fifth-tier blade, sword moves sliced for self-serve.

Normal fire useless; Tang Yueling released Twelve Million.

Meat quivered on grill, flames licking; golden fat dripped, sizzling, aroma mouthwatering.

Surface charred, shrunk—done. Su Qing curious Nascent Soul effects—not just greed.

Bite: hot steam, crisp exterior, tender juicy inside, spices, smoke—intoxicating.

Shock: dantian spiritual energy up one-fifth.

Others noticed; brief awe, then chopstick frenzy.
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Good stuff—eat more, profit.

Mid-feast, Yan Chi arrived—gold-black casual, collar open, relaxed.

Sword Sect central, close.

No disturb; smiling behind table, one leg up, self-pouring copper vessel.

Century beast blood wine—fierce; weak drunk sniffing three days. She guzzled water-like.

Below: mansion officials—salutes; she waved off formalities, eat drink free.

Closest: twins—parade teen generals.

Twins Foundation Establishment: girl Yan Yao, boy Yan Jin. Armored indistinguishable; casual: plain Yao, brocade Jin.

Mother-only children. Twins but no elder/younger—named directly.

Future heir: strength, performance—not age.

Yan Chi swayed vessel to Lin Hebai—old drinking buddies.

Su Qing five meat rounds, dantian full; reluctantly stopped, sat meditating absorption.

Yan Chi to Lin Hebai, eyeing students: “That child?”

Inner Subsidiary arson curiosity.

“Yes.” Lin Hebai proud. “This year’s top newbie—my teaching.”

“Your student, good kid. Yan Jin wanted Sword Sect—born late, missed recruitment, no fate.” Yan Chi downed cup, laughed. “Have her see me—good wine.”

Lin Hebai helpless shook head: “She doesn’t drink.”

Yan Chi brow raised: “Now no—stay Yinlan long, will. No water here, only wine.”

Water hard; residents drank light wine—time in Yinlan, all drinkers.

She squinted, casual chat with Lin Hebai—but divine sense transmission.

Lin Hebai unsurprised, animated.

Mind sea serious:

[Wang Quan say? Unsteady here—all forces jumping. Harvest time.]

Lin Hebai: [Sect leader sent solvers.]

[Who?] Yan Chi frowned. [Borrowed Taotie—no. Who else?]

Lin Hebai fast: [Unknown—didn’t say. But they can. If you meet.]

[They?] Yan Chi pondered. [Not one…]

Sword Sect teacher, student, or outside aid?

Unclear; angry: [Dog—taxes yearly, vague words. What? Not sect-holed, I’d spear him rotten!]

Lin Hebai empathized, shifted: [Your situation?]

[Usual—tides nothing, century once, resources built city. But different—complex. Parade: show alive, strong—hold them.]

Array in Old Temple; celebration distraction—secret soldiers searched temples.

But Yinlan loved festivals—cold city needed light, heat, wine, meat, voices, laughter—or lifeless.

Lin Hebai knew old wound: Yan Chi Transform Spirit mid—Nascent Soul ambushed, near death, Heart Mirror saved, recovered but scarred. Thus heirs.

Mirror removed for fog—unreturnable; wound likely worse.

Hidden forces know relapse possible?

Lin Hebai comforted: [Care for self. I’m here—share burden, catch backstabber.]

[Fate. Enough.] Yan Chi indifferent, interested ahead: “Yan Jin down?”

Tone playful: “Knew it—duel your student.”

—

Su Qing opened eyes—atmosphere off, stagnant, stares here.

Instinct: trouble.

From lord’s fire: teen—Yan Jin. Tall, five-tenths Yan Chi—striking features, front hair braided high ponytail, jeweled like mother, enhancing beauty.

Su Qing gauged: Foundation first layer—her match.

Younger genius.

Purpose? Closing in—not mansion arson blame. Burned yes—compensate no, zero spirit stones. Good deed—Yan reward due.

But Yan Jin surprised: “You this year’s Sword Sect top newbie? Duel for superiority?”

Sleeve flicked glowing pearl—Golden Core beast core. “Stake this—if win, take core.”

Ears perked—youths competitive; shouts: “Accept—show him!”

Su Qing blinked: “If I lose?”

Yan Jin quick: “Prove inferior!”

Loss: Sword Sect top below him—all newbies too.

Golden Core core rare.

Win gain, loss none—fool, er, deal.

Nodded; Yan Jin excited: Su Qing pointed Tian Ning. “Challenge accepted—Sword Sect top is her.”

Tian Ning mouth-stuffed meat, cheeks bulging, dazed.

But fight? Easy.

Dropped chopsticks, summoned Snowfall Sword, late Foundation pressure poured: “Come?”

Yan Jin flushed crimson, speechless long.