The moment we stepped out from the relative seclusion of the estate's grand gate, Wu Tan City hit me with the force of a physical blow. It was a chaotic, vibrant symphony of life, far more potent and overwhelming than any description in a novel. The air, thick with the smell of roasting meat, strange medicinal herbs, and unwashed bodies, was a stark contrast to the perfumed serenity of the pavilion I now called home.
Merchants with leathery skin and shrewd eyes shouted their wares from crowded stalls, selling everything from glistening monster cores the size of a fist to oddly shaped vegetables I couldn't name. Burly men with axes and broadswords strapped to their backs, their bodies humming with low levels of Dou Qi, swaggered through the streets, their gazes hard. It was a frontier town, a place where strength was the currency that mattered most.
And we, in the midst of it all, were an anomaly.
Or rather, Zhao Ming was an anomaly. I was a spectacle.
I had chosen a relatively simple but elegant pale blue dress, and my long black hair was tied back with a single silk ribbon. Yet, as I walked, a strange phenomenon occurred. The chaotic crowd seemed to part before me, like the Red Sea before Moses. Men would stop their haggling to stare, their rough faces softening with a sort of dumbfounded awe. Women would eye me with envy and curiosity. It was my 2.53% Innate Charm at work, a passive, silent manipulation of the world around me. It was deeply unsettling, like wearing a sign that said, 'Be nice to me,' that only others could see.
Zhao Ming, on the other hand, elicited a different reaction. His towering height, stark white hair, and the nonchalant way he wore his blindfold screamed 'danger' and 'arrogance'. People didn't just make way for him; they actively scurried to get out of his path, whispering and pointing when they thought he couldn't hear.
He, of course, was loving every second of it.
"See that guy selling the weird purple lizard?" he murmured to me, not moving his head. His voice was low, but his ever-present smirk was practically audible. "His Dou Qi circulation is a disaster. Too much spicy food and cheap wine. He'll have a blockage in his spleen meridian within six months."
"Would you stop diagnosing strangers' cultivation problems?" I hissed back, trying to maintain a graceful, serene expression for the public while my anxiety spiked. "Someone will hear you."
"Relax, Qing-er," he said, using a far-too-intimate diminutive that made my cheeks flush. "Let them hear. It builds the mystique. Besides, the Six Eyes are a riot. It's like having X-ray vision, a medical scanner, and a power-level scouter all in one. That guard by the gate? Barely a 5 Duan Dou Zhi Qi. He's compensating for something with that ridiculously large halberd."
"Zhao Ming!"
"Fine, fine. I'll behave," he said, though the smirk didn't fade. He walked closer to me, his presence a strange bubble of intimidation that amplified my own aura of untouchable beauty. We were a bizarre pair: the celestial maiden and her bizarre, blindfolded guardian. Our cover story of being from a reclusive, powerful clan suddenly felt much more believable.
It took us the better part of an hour to navigate the bustling streets to the western district. The Xiao Clan manor loomed at the end of a wide street, its entrance flanked by two fierce-looking stone lions. The building itself was imposing, built from dark, heavy wood and stone, projecting an image of martial strength. But even from a distance, I could feel a faint air of stagnation about it, the scent of a power that was past its prime.
Two guards stood at the gate, their hands resting on the pommels of their swords. They were young, but their eyes were sharp, and they straightened up as we approached, their gazes immediately locking onto Zhao Ming with suspicion.
"Halt!" one of them called out, his voice firm. "The Xiao Clan does not receive unscheduled visitors. State your purpose."
This was it. Our first real test. I stepped forward, offering a polite, placid smile. "Good sirs, please forgive the intrusion. We mean no disrespect."
The guard's hard expression softened almost comically as he took in my appearance. His partner nudged him, his jaw slightly agape. The charm was working overtime.
"My name is Bai Qing," I said, using the surname of the 'Master Bai' that Xiao Cui had mentioned, the reclusive scholar who was presumably my father. "My companion and I are new to Wu Tan City. I was hoping to purchase a small gift for the young master, Xiao Yan, to congratulate him on his upcoming birthday. My father, Master Bai of the eastern manor, believes in fostering good relations with our neighbors."
The name 'Master Bai' clearly meant nothing to them, but 'eastern manor' did. That was the lavish estate we were staying in, a place known for being owned by a mysterious and wealthy figure. My fine clothes, combined with a plausible story and a supernaturally charming face, was the perfect combination.
The guard swallowed hard. "Ah, so you are the Young Miss from the Bai estate. We... we were not aware. An honor." He was flustered, completely disarmed. "Of course, of course. Please, come in. The clan's public market is just inside the first courtyard. You will find many fine things there."
"You are too kind," I said with a slight bow of my head.
They opened the heavy gates, and we stepped inside. The outer courtyard was a large, bustling space, almost a town square in its own right. Disciples in the Xiao clan's black uniforms were sparring in a large training ground to our right, their shouts and the clang of weapons filling the air. To our left was a market, clearly run by the clan, selling weapons, pills, and training manuals.
Zhao Ming's blindfolded head was constantly scanning the area. "Lots of kids," he murmured. "Highest level in that training group is a 7 Duan Dou Zhi Qi. That's probably Xiao Ning. The one surrounded by all the other kids, acting like he owns the place."
I followed his gaze and saw a tall, arrogant-looking youth easily deflecting his sparring partners' attacks. It was exactly as the book described.
"And the elders?" I asked quietly.
"Three of them, sitting on that raised platform over there," he said, subtly nodding his head. "The Dou Qi density around them is much higher. They're Dou Shi, maybe Great Dou Shi. Just like the lore says. Old, stubborn, and probably a pain in the ass."
We walked past the training grounds, feigning interest in the market stalls. I saw a group of pretty, young female disciples chattering amongst themselves. At their center was a particularly beautiful girl, who carried herself with an air of superiority. She glanced at the training ground, her eyes lingering on Xiao Ning with admiration before dismissing the other, weaker disciples with a flick of her hair.
Xiao Mei, I thought. Another checkbox ticked on our lore-verification list.
But our main target was nowhere to be seen. Xiao Yan wouldn't be here, in the midst of the people who scorned him. He would be seeking solitude.
"Let's try the back," I suggested. "Towards the hills."
We left the bustling courtyard behind, following a quieter path that wound through gardens and smaller residential buildings. The further we went, the more the noise faded, replaced by the peaceful sounds of nature. And then, we saw him.
On a grassy hillock at the very edge of the Xiao clan's property, a lone figure sat with his back to us, hugging his knees as he stared at the distant mountains. He wore simple black clothes that were slightly too large for his thin frame. Even from behind, the aura of isolation and bitter resentment was a palpable thing. It was nothing like the swagger of the future Flame Emperor. This was the portrait of a broken teenager.
We stopped, concealed by a small grove of trees. This felt intensely private, like we were intruding on a sacred moment of grief.
As if on cue, a group of four other disciples, led by the same Xiao Ning we had seen earlier, came swaggering up the path. They spotted Xiao Yan and a collective sneer appeared on their faces.
"Well, well, look what we have here," Xiao Ning's voice dripped with condescension. "If it isn't our great genius. Contemplating how to fall to 2nd Duan Dou Zhi Qi, trash?"
Xiao Yan didn't move, didn't even acknowledge them.
Another disciple chimed in, "Hey, I heard his father bought him a Foundation Elixir. A whole thousand gold coins, wasted! You could feed a pig a Foundation Elixir and it would have a better result!"
The laughter was cruel.
I felt a surge of anger on his behalf. It was one thing to read about it; it was another to witness the casual cruelty firsthand. Beside me, I felt Zhao Ming shift. He took a half-step forward, his hand clenching into a fist. The air around him seemed to grow colder.
"Don't," I whispered, placing a hand on his arm. His bicep was tense as steel.
"They're a bunch of punks, Qing," he growled, his voice a low rumble. "I could walk over there and have them all kissing the dirt before they even knew what happened."
"And then what?" I countered, my grip tightening. "We become the mysterious powerhouses who humiliated the Xiao clan's top young disciple for no reason? We put a massive target on our backs. Xiao Yan doesn't need a savior, Zhao Ming. He needs his anger. This moment, right here, is what fuels him. It's the kindling for the Heavenly Flame. We interfere, and we might snuff it out before it even lights."
My logical argument, likely boosted by the 1% tactical acumen from Taigong Wang, seemed to get through to him. He relaxed his fist but didn't step back, his blindfolded gaze fixed on the scene. He was a coiled spring, an explosion waiting for an excuse.
Xiao Yan finally stood up. He turned to face his tormentors, his face a mask of cold indifference. There was no fear in his eyes, only a deep, bottomless contempt.
"Are you finished?" he asked, his voice hoarse but steady.
Xiao Ning sneered. "What's that, trash? You want some more?"
"No," Xiao Yan said, dusting off his pants. "I just find the buzzing of flies to be tiresome."
Without another word, he turned and walked away, his back straight, his head held high. It was a retreat, but it was a dignified one. He was defeated, but not broken. In that moment, I saw it—the flicker of the indomitable will that would one day shake the world.
The bullies shouted a few more insults at his retreating back before getting bored and swaggering off, laughing.
Silence returned to the grassy hillock.
"You were right," Zhao Ming admitted, the tension finally leaving his shoulders. "Seeing it... it's different. Harsher."
"It is," I agreed, my heart still aching for the lonely boy. "Come on. We've seen enough. Let's go."
We turned to leave, our mission of reconnaissance a success. But as we took a step, Zhao Ming suddenly froze, his body going rigid.
"Wait," he whispered, his head cocked to the side, his blindfolded face "looking" in the direction Xiao Yan had disappeared.
"What is it? Did they come back?" I asked, my heart lurching.
"No... it's something else." He took a few steps forward, his focus absolute. "With the Six Eyes... I can see the flow of Dou Qi in everything. In people, in the air, in the earth. It's all... normal."
He pointed towards where Xiao Yan had vanished. "His Dou Qi is weak, chaotic, a tangled mess, just as you'd expect. But... trailing just behind him, like a ghost, there's another energy signature. It's not Dou Qi. It's something else entirely. It's incredibly faint, almost nonexistent. But the quality of it... Qing, it's ancient. And powerful. It's dormant, like a slumbering volcano. A spiritual energy."
My breath hitched in my throat. I knew exactly what he was describing.
"Where is it coming from?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper.
Zhao Ming's blindfolded gaze lowered, as if tracing the energy to its source.
"It's centered on his hand," he said, a note of pure awe in his voice. "On that simple, plain black ring he's wearing on his finger."
There it was.
The final, absolute confirmation.
It wasn't just the timeline, the characters, or the setting that were real. The single most important plot device, the catalyst for the entire legend, was real too.
Yao Lao. The Venerable Flame. The greatest alchemist on the continent was right there, a dormant soul in a ring, waiting for his moment.
A grin, not of arrogance this time, but of pure excitement, spread across Zhao Ming's face. He looked at me, and I knew we were thinking the exact same thing.
This wasn't just a world we had been thrown into anymore. This was a story waiting to unfold. And we had front-row seats. The only question was whether we would remain in the audience or step onto the stage.