> "I just went out to carry a bag of rice—did it really require three of the world's top fighters to show up?"
— Lin Zhou
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[1] Morning Market Commotion
Before dawn, the morning market outside Frostmoon Camp was already bustling.
The clatter of pots and pans mixed with the shouts of hawkers, sounding like an invisible street brawl.
Lin Zhou walked up to the rice shop empty-handed and casually said to the shopkeeper, "Two bags of rice, please."
The shopkeeper smiled. "Right away—"
The next second, the air froze.
Crown Prince Chiyan stepped forward, clad in gilded armor, a hundred soldiers of the Chiyan Army lining up to clear the way.
Honglei appeared, lazily fanning herself with a bone fan, her light steps sending faint ripples of blood across the ground.
The Dragon Clan Saint Son rode a silver-scaled war beast, its golden eyes staring so hard it made onlookers' legs weak.
The three arrived at the rice shop together, speaking in unison:
> "Let us carry the rice."
The bystanders: ???
It was like three chosen heirs of heaven were fighting over who got to do manual labor for Lin Zhou—so over the top that the entire market fell silent.
Lin Zhou was stuck in the middle, awkwardly raising his hand. "I can carry it myself…"
Crown Prince Chiyan said gravely, "What if it crushes your hand?"
Honglei narrowed her eyes. "Small hands and feet—so fragile."
The Dragon Clan Saint Son smiled. "My war beast can carry two bags in its mouth without spilling a grain."
And so, Lin Zhou watched as three top-tier powerhouses and one giant beast escorted two bags of rice back to camp—scaring the market's old hens into silence.
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[2] Xiao Li's Rice Bag Disaster
Xiao Li also wanted to help, but being too short, he ended up buried under a rice bag, only two fluffy ears sticking out.
"Mmph—Brother, help—" came his muffled cry from under the bag.
Lin Zhou quickly lifted it away. When Xiao Li popped out, a single grain of rice was stuck to his head.
He licked it off with his tongue and grinned. "Sweet!"
Crown Prince Chiyan frowned. "Rice is sweet?"
Honglei glanced up. "…You don't get it—what's sweet is his mood."
The Dragon Clan Saint Son: "Or… his big brother."
Lin Zhou covered his face. "Can you guys not make weird explanations?"
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[3] Shadows of the Undercurrent
By noon, a Frostmoon scout hurried into the command tent, face tense.
"Report! Thirty li southwest, unknown forces spotted—suspicious movements, possibly… targeting Xiao Li."
The air instantly grew heavy. Crown Prince Chiyan's face hardened, Honglei's eyes narrowed, and the Dragon Clan Saint Son whispered to his war beast, which let out a low rumble.
Lin Zhou frowned. "You're overreacting—Xiao Li's just a little kid—"
"Even little kids can cost lives," Honglei cut in softly.
"Some things aren't after strength," Crown Prince Chiyan added.
Xiao Li, still chewing jerky, looked blank. "What things? Are they tasty?"
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[4] Night Creeps In
Late at night, the wind cut across the camp's tents like a knife.
Half-asleep, Lin Zhou thought he heard a faint tap… tap…—like bare feet on canvas flooring.
In the woods beyond the camp, shadows crept closer.
They made no sound, even their shapes swallowed by the night, their bodies laced with faint black markings—the scent of a curse.
At the front, a tall figure in a beast-bone mask stopped, muttering under his breath:
> "Catch the child, and we can force him to reveal his true self…"
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[Ending]
The scene cut to Lin Zhou's tent—Xiao Li was curled in his arms, sleeping soundly, his nose rubbing against Lin Zhou's sleeve, utterly unaware that the shadow of death had already settled over the camp.