In the morning market, the mist had yet to disperse. Vendors were setting up their goods, the cries of hawkers rising and falling in the air.
Lin Zhou strolled lazily through the crowd, an empty bamboo basket in one hand, counting the copper coins in his pocket with the other. He planned to buy some roasted sweet potatoes for breakfast.
Xiao Li followed behind, holding a half-eaten bun in his hands. He munched while glancing around, like it was his first time seeing such a bustling place.
"Today's a lucky day. Just got paid and the sweet potato stall's just brought out a fresh batch," Lin Zhou muttered to himself.
But—just as he reached the stall, before he could speak, the signboard above let out a sudden crack and a large wooden board dropped straight down, smashing onto the ground right in front of a passerby.
The man yelped, falling to the ground in fright. He turned his head—and locked eyes with Lin Zhou.
Four eyes met—the air froze.
"It's him! The Cursed Child!" the man shrieked and scrambled to his feet, running off without looking back.
Lin Zhou: "...?"
Mouth full of bun, Xiao Li mumbled, "Big bro, are you some kind of sweet potato vendor's natural enemy?"
---
Meanwhile, at the other end of the market, a sect disciple wearing a bamboo hat was staring at them from afar.
"As expected... the moment he shows up, misfortune follows."
The waist token at his side bore three characters: Shuangyue Camp. Behind him were three companions, all watching warily.
What they didn't know was that, from an even higher rooftop, the Crimson Flame Crown Prince was crouched, watching the same direction.
"Hah, those Shuangyue idiots think I'm not here? Whoever dares to touch him—I'll be the first to disagree."
Further away, on the second floor of a teahouse, Honglei leaned against the window, fingers tapping her wine cup. "...The number of spectators just keeps growing."
In the shadows at the alley's mouth, the Dragon Clan's Holy Son chewed on a candied hawthorn, leisurely swinging his folding fan. "Hehe, now things are getting interesting."
And so, four different factions all had their eyes fixed on the same target—
Lin Zhou, a mortal who just wanted to buy roasted sweet potatoes.
---
"Boss, give me two big ones, extra sweet," Lin Zhou said, pulling out some coins.
But just as he got the sweet potatoes in hand, a black cat darted out from the side, knocking over a spice vendor's pole. The spice jars burst open, filling the whole street with a heady fragrance—along with a chorus of coughs.
The scent drifted with the wind to the other end of the street, right under the noses of the Shuangyue Camp disciples.
"The spices exploded—that's a poisoning signal!"
"He's the one who did it!"
"Quick! Catch the Cursed Child!"
At their leader's order, the whole street instantly descended into chaos.
Lin Zhou stood there blank-faced. "...How does buying a sweet potato trigger a chemical war?"
Xiao Li blinked. "Big bro, maybe in your last life you owed them ten sacks of rice?"
---
In the confusion, a Shuangyue disciple raised his sword and slashed toward Lin Zhou's back.
"Watch out—!" Xiao Li reacted purely on instinct, grabbing Lin Zhou's shoulder and yanking him aside.
—In that instant, his movements were impossibly fast, as though the world around them had slowed by half a beat.
Even he froze for a moment—his ears rang with a deep, resonating hummmm, like someone whispering beside him.
His blood surged backward, and his chest burned as if he held a ball of fire inside.
The sword light grazed Lin Zhou's sleeve, carving a scorched mark deep into the ground.
"Xiao Li, that reaction of yours..." Lin Zhou started, but his words were drowned out by the shouts of battle.
---
Just as both sides were about to collide—
"Stop!" A powerful voice boomed from the rooftops.
The Crimson Flame Crown Prince, Honglei, and the Dragon Clan's Holy Son appeared at the same time, each leading a squad. The three forces faced off, weapons drawn, tension thick in the air.
The Shuangyue disciples were stunned. "...Why are you all here?"
The Crown Prince sneered. "He's my man."
Honglei took a languid sip of wine. "Sorry, he's mine."
The Dragon Clan's Holy Son shook his fan. "No, no, no—he's already under the Dragon Clan's protection."
Lin Zhou, holding his sweet potatoes, stared in disbelief. "...When did I accept anyone's protection? I just came to buy breakfast."
---
The standoff in the market dragged on for a full half hour, neither side making a move.
By the time the sweet potatoes had completely cooled, Lin Zhou sighed. "Forget it, I'm going home. You all keep arguing."
He turned and walked away, leaving a crowd of experts glaring at each other—
While in the crowd, Xiao Li clutched his chest, his expression dazed.
That burning sensation was still there, but he didn't dare tell anyone—because he faintly felt that it wasn't an ordinary power.