Xuán Chè turned to look. "Hēi Xióng is still bothering your father?" he asked Màn'er, his previous embarrassment replaced by concern.
"Yes," Màn'er whispered, her voice tight with worry. "Every time they return, they want more. The last few times, we just didn't have enough to pay them off."
A frustrated resolve straightened Xuán Chè's spine, his earlier shyness completely gone.
The men swaggered in, their heavy posturing and large, poorly maintained weapons meant to intimidate. Their leader, a tall, burly man covered in a patchwork of different animal leathers, scanned the room. His long, thick braids, greasy and unkempt, swayed as he moved.
"Lǎo Wáng!" the ruffian bellowed, his voice like grinding stones.
"It's the end of the month, Lǎo Wáng! I'm here to collect!" Hēi Xióng shouted. "I've been quite generous, but you've ignored my generosity. My patience is a currency you've spent!"
Xuán Chè stood up, his fists clenched.
But Yisha gently grabbed his arm, her touch surprisingly firm. She didn't look at him, her gaze fixed on the scene unfolding with a calm, almost detached interest.
"Allow me," she said, her voice a quiet promise of imminent chaos.
"Miss," Màn'er quietly tried to warn. "Don't. They're rogue immortals. It's too dangerous."
Li Wei snapped his fan open and began to slowly fan himself, a proud, confident grin spreading across his face as he watched his little sister stroll toward the ruffians.
"Bù hǎoyìsi," Yisha said, feigning innocence as she inserted herself into the group. "Do I know you from somewhere?"
"Xiǎo yātou," Hēi Xióng looked at the girl in confusion. "You have me mistaken." He sized her up, noticing the fineness of her clothes, her earring, her hairpin. A greedy glint entered his eye. "But maybe we can become acquainted."
Yisha lifted her hand to coquettishly cover her mouth and let loose a girlish giggle that was both cute and a bit unnerving. "You want to become acquainted with me? Do you have enough money to be my...acquaintance?"
Hēi Xióng was amused. He let out a loud laugh and his gang laughed on cue.
Yisha circled him like a wolf circling its prey. Smiling. Hungry.
"Xiǎo yātou, as much interesting as you are, I'm a little busy."
Yisha, now behind him, gently touched his shoulders and ran her fingers to his neck. Hēi Xióng's eyes closed with delight. Her fingers made their way to his long, greasy braids. With one hand, she grabbed them and pulled his head back.
"Marry me," Hēi Xióng whispered, a smile on his face.
Yisha giggled.
Then she yanked his head back with impossible force, nearly snapping his neck. His massive body was lifted and slammed to the ground back-first, shaking the entire tavern and cracking the wooden floorboards beneath him.
Hēi Xióng's crew, their laughter dying in their throats, encircled her as she towered over the dazed man beneath her feet.
She crossed her arms, her right elbow resting on her left wrist, her right hand relaxed and already emitting a searingly bright, pure white light.
With a mischievous grin, she welcomed the five remaining ruffians.
"Lái ba." (Come on.)
The first two charged. Yisha didn't move. She simply flicked her wrist. The ball of light in her hand shattered into a dozen smaller orbs that shot forward like a volley of arrows, not to pierce, but to blindingly explode in their faces. The men screamed, clawing at their eyes, stumbling blindly into tables.
A third, smarter ruffian tried to flank her with a heavy axe. Yisha's form seemed to dissolve into a blur of refracted light, reappearing directly behind him. She placed her palm on his back, and a concentrated beam of sunlight shot through his torso. It didn't leave a wound, but the man collapsed, gasping, every muscle in his body seized by a sudden, debilitating fever-heat.
The final two attacked in unison. Yisha finally uncrossed her arms, bringing her hands together as if clapping. A deafening peal of thunder and a concussive wave of pure photonic force erupted from between her palms, throwing the men back as if they'd been hit by a tidal wave. They crashed against the far wall and slid to the floor, unconscious.
In the span of ten heartbeats, it was over. The air smelled of ozone and singed hair. Yisha stood in the center of the wreckage, the light around her hand fading. She looked down at Hēi Xióng, who was just beginning to stir.
She leaned over, her voice a sweet, deadly whisper. "My dowry is a bit expensive. It costs... everything you have."
A dozen more ruffians poured through the tavern doors, their weapons drawn, only to be met with an unnatural, deepening cold.
Li Wei stood and walked toward the center of the room. With each footstep, the temperature plummeted. Daggers of ice, sharp as broken glass, crystallized in the air around his shoulders, hovering with lethal intent.
One ruffian, enraged, threw a roaring orb of fire at Yisha. She sidestepped it with a dancer's grace, but the man failed to see the three icy daggers that shot from Li Wei's aura and buried themselves in his chest. Li Wei, still walking, didn't even look at him. He simply squeezed his fist.
The daggers exploded outwards from within.
The ruffian's body fell to the floor, a grotesque sculpture of frost and crimson. A visible wave of cold rolled over the remaining thugs. Frost gathered instantly on their beards and in their hair; their limbs locked up, succumbing to a sudden, agonizing frostbite. They were neutralized without a single blade being swung.
"We've been riding all day," Li Wei said, his voice calm but layered with a frosty, simmering anger. "And finally found an establishment to eat and rest. And before we can order our—Xuán Chè," he said, turning slightly, "what dishes were you going to recommend?"
Both startled and fascinated, Xuán Chè responded without thinking, listing the hearty, flavorful classics he knew best: "Hóngshāo páigǔ (red-braised pork ribs), jiàngbàngzi (braised pork shank), and... língyāo kǎo jī (spirit-herb roasted chicken)." — dishes rich in meat and flavor, perfectly suited to a fox's palate and a warrior's appetite.
"Right," Li Wei said, his gaze returning to the terrified tavern. "And desserts? Two sweet, one bitter."
He turned his attention to Màn'er, who stood frozen, a statue of fear. "Màn'er gūniang, are you getting this?"
Her voice was trapped in her throat.
"Màn'er gūniang!" Li Wei's voice cracked through the room like a whip, the force of it shaking her from her stupor.
"Y-Yes! Yes! I'll... I'll get them ready for you!" she stammered, scrambling toward the kitchen.
Qianyi made her way over to Yisha and Li Wei, looking down at the groaning Hēi Xióng. Her eyes, sharp and analytical, scanned the room, fixing on a thick pillar on the balcony above. She gestured with her hand, a simple, commanding pull.
"Guòlái." (Come here.)
A frightened, middle-aged man peeked his head up from his hiding place behind the balcony railing.
"Come down here," Qianyi quietly commanded, her voice leaving no room for refusal.
The man, Lǎo Wáng, moved slowly down the stairs, his legs trembling.
"Lǎo Wáng, is it?" Qianyi said, her tone shifting to one of cool, professional courtesy. "You're in luck. We specialize in conflict resolution."
Meanwhile, Yisha checked the downed Hēi Xióng for a money pouch, finding only a few pathetic coins. She moved to the other ruffians, her search growing more annoyed with each empty pocket. She kicked one lightly in disgust.
"Fèiwù," she muttered to herself. Useless trash.
Qianyi looked from the trembling Lǎo Wáng to the groaning Hēi Xióng, her expression one of cool appraisal. "Simply teaching him manners just won't due. He's going to require a more... permanent understanding."
She knelt beside Hēi Xióng, her movements graceful and deliberate. From a fold of her robe, she produced a blank scroll of parchment.
"Your hand," Li Wei commanded, his voice leaving no room for refusal.
Terrified, Hēi Xiong offered his bleeding, frostbitten hand. Qianyi guided it, using his own blood to draw an intricate, glowing xuè shì (blood oath seal) on the parchment. The characters pulsed with a faint, golden light.
"The terms are simple," she stated, her voice echoing in the frozen silence. "You, Hēi Xióng, and your men, will never again harass, extort, or set foot in this establishment.
The safety and prosperity of Lǎo Wáng and his family are now under our protection. To break this oath is to forfeit your spiritual cultivation and your life. The heavens themselves will bear witness and enact judgment."
She pressed his hand firmly onto the scroll. The blood seal flared, burning itself into the parchment and, simultaneously, a matching, faint brand shimmered on Hēi Xióng's chest before fading into his skin—a permanent reminder of his debt.
"Now," Qianyi said, rising and turning to Lǎo Wáng, her demeanor shifting to one of polite business. "Regarding our fee for this service. We will consider it paid in full by a hot meal, those desserts, and rooms for the night. And," she added, a subtle, knowing smile touching her lips, "a lifetime of goodwill and the finest table whenever we pass through."
Lǎo Wáng, overwhelmed with relief, could only bow repeatedly. "Of course! Of course! A thousand thanks, honored benefactors!"
The able-bodied ruffians began to assist their downed comrades. And the trio finally took their seats.
Yisha grinned, popping a candied hawthorn berry from the now-arrived dessert plate into her mouth.
***********************************************************************************
As the last of the groaning ruffians were dragged from the tavern a sense of uneasy calm began to return. Unnoticed by all, a man sat in a shadowed corner of the balcony, having observed the entire spectacle without a single shift in his posture.
He was adorned in simple, yet luxuriously soft white robes, embroidered with raised patterns of swirling clouds that seemed to catch the faint light in a way that suggested they were woven from moonlight itself. A cup of untouched tea sat cold before him.
His gaze, ancient and discerning, followed the trio, lingering on Yisha's fading light and Qianyi's precise, commanding aura. A faint, almost imperceptible frown of curiosity touched his lips.
They carry the spark of divinity, he observed inwardly, yet they walk in darkness, unaware of their own dawn. They are goddesses who have yet to ascend, seasoned in the ways of this world but ignorant of the celestial courts they are destined for. How... curious.
He made no move to approach. For now, he was merely a witness. But the wheels of a much larger fate had begun to turn. The wandering High God, Wù Fēng, had found a mystery more compelling than any he had encountered in centuries, and he would not be leaving this town without answers.