Outside, the afternoon sun painted the sect's market district in warm gold. Xuan Yan strolled along the cobblestone street, hands in his pockets, glancing at the shops on either side.
Weapon stalls gleamed with polished blades. Clothing stores displayed silk robes fluttering in the breeze. Technique scrolls were being hawked loudly by merchants. Even a few beast handlers shouted prices for tamed spirit beasts.
But Xuan Yan wasn't here for any of that.
He was here for groceries.
His food stores at home were empty again, and he wasn't about to survive another day on plain water and air.
After a few turns, he stopped in front of a small wooden shop that smelled faintly of rice and dried herbs.
He smiled. "Uncle Poe's shop."
Pushing open the door, he stepped inside.
"Uncle Poe, I'm back!" he called.
Behind the counter, a middle-aged man looked up and grinned. "Ah, young man, there you are. I thought you weren't coming today."
Xuan Yan walked up to the counter. "How could I not come? You're the only one who gives me discounts."
Uncle Poe chuckled. "So, what'll it be today?"
"Hmm… two kilograms of rice and some vegetables," Xuan Yan replied.
Before Uncle Poe could move, a woman emerged from the backroom, smiling warmly. She quickly scooped rice into a cloth bag and picked out fresh vegetables.
"Here you go, dear Xuan," she said kindly. "But tell me, where have you been? You came late this time, and today you almost didn't show up at all."
Xuan Yan smiled lightly at the woman behind the counter. "Oh, Aunt Poe, I was just a little too busy these past few days," he said, scratching his neck.
Before she could respond, a cheerful voice came from behind her. A young girl, around Xuan Yan's age, stepped out from the back room, her apron still dusted with flour.
"Brother Xuan, are you doing well in the sect?" she asked, smiling brightly.
Xuan Yan turned toward her. "Sister Poe, I'm doing well. What about you?"
She nodded. "Yeah, I'm doing great."
But before their conversation could continue, the door of the shop slammed open.
Three figures strode inside — all wearing the robes of Heavenly Palace disciples. One of them carried another man slung over his shoulder, pretending he was unconscious. The one in front, clearly their leader, slammed his hand on the counter and shouted.
"Hey! My friend here ate rice from your shop and got poisoned! You dare sell poisonous food here? I want fifteen silver coins right now, or I'll tear this place apart!"
Uncle Poe's eyes widened in shock. He hurried from behind the counter. "You must be mistaken, young sirs. We've never sold anything poisonous here!"
Aunt Poe quickly joined him, her face pale but firm. "Yes, my husband is right! We only sell fresh goods—we'd never harm anyone!"
The leader scoffed and jabbed a finger at them. "I don't care! Your shop poisoned my friend, and you'll pay for it. Fifteen silver coins, or this place burns!"
The room fell silent.
Xuan Yan, standing quietly near the shelves, clenched his fists. He could see it clearly — none of the men showed signs of poisoning. The one being "carried" even had steady breathing and a healthy aura. It was a setup.
Sister Poe glanced nervously at Xuan Yan, clearly wanting him to say something but afraid he might get involved.
Xuan Yan sighed. I get it, you don't want me to interfere… but I can't just stand here like a coward.
Before he could speak, another man entered the shop — this one armed with a sword, followed by a few curious onlookers. He stepped between the groups, raising his hand.
"Wait, wait! I'll help settle this. What happened here?" he asked, looking between the angry disciples and the shop owners.
The leader of the group pointed at Uncle Poe immediately. "This bastard poisoned my friend! He got sick after eating rice from here!"
The swordsman frowned and turned to Uncle Poe. "Is that true?"
Uncle Poe looked flustered, shaking his head. "Of course not! I would never—"
Xuan Yan stepped forward, his expression turning cold. "There's no need to talk."
The words cut through the tension like a blade.
Everyone turned toward him — Uncle and Aunt Poe, the three disciples, the swordsman, the onlookers, and even Sister Poe, whose eyes widened in shock.
Uncle Poe looked at him, confused. "Xuan Yan, what do you mean?"
The swordsman frowned. "Hey, calm down, kid. We can talk and settle this peacefully."
Xuan Yan ignored him completely. His eyes locked onto the three troublemakers as he said, his voice sharp and unyielding,
"Uncle Poe is innocent. These bastards are just here to make trouble."
"Why should we believe him?" one onlooker snapped.
"Yeah — he could've poisoned them himself," another added, loud enough to stir the crowd.
Xuan Yan didn't flinch. He glanced at the man who was supposed to be poisoned and said bluntly, "Put that poisoned bastard on the ground and I'll prove it."
The thug carrying the man sneered inwardly — this kid, let's see what you can do — and dumped the so-called poisoned man onto the floor with a thud.
"Aunt Poe, don't worry about us," Aunt Poe urged, trembling with relief. "Take your things and leave — we'll handle this."
"Don't worry, aunt," Xuan Yan said shortly, then stalked toward the prone man. He crouched, eyes cold as steel. "If he's poisoned, I'll just kill him, okay?"
The words hit the room like a thrown stone. Silence fell — then a collective intake of breath.
Before anyone could react, Xuan Yan's palm glowed. A razor-thin blade of spiritual energy formed and sliced toward the man's neck.
The fake-poisoned man flinched and rolled away at the last second. "You bastard! You nearly killed me!" he barked, scrambling to his feet.
Xuan Yan retracted his hand without a flicker of remorse. "So you're not poisoned. What a surprise."
Murmurs rippled through the crowd. "They're framing them." "What disgusting kids."
Xuan Yan turned toward the swordsman who had tried to mediate. "Senior, shouldn't you arrest them? They framed innocent people."
The swordsman hesitated, face going slack as the truth dawned on him. He had wanted to play the hero to impress the shopgirl — now he realized the setup had been to bait such an intervention. For a heartbeat he looked torn, then forced a laugh, bluffing to save face. "Ah… well, I think we should just let them go."
Xuan Yan's voice cut sharper. "What are you saying? Let criminals go? Are you protecting them?"
The swordsman's jaw tightened. Inside, his anger flared — this bastard ruined my plan to show off to the girl. I was going to pretend beat them… — but his mouth lied. "No, no… that can't be true… I beat them until they die," he muttered, trying to spin back control.
The leader of the trio — the one who'd demanded coins — suddenly lost his composure. Fingers pointing at the swordsman, his voice rose into a shriek. "You bastard! You hired us to act this out and now you're framing us? You told us to fake it and demand coins, damn you!"
The accusation hung in the air. Heads turned; faces drained of color. The crowd that had jeered minutes before now stared at the leader with new suspicion and disgust.
"Wha—?" the swordsman stammered, eyes flicking between the leader and the three thugs. "i hired them? That's— that's impossible—"
Uncle Poe, voice trembling with outrage and relief, stepped forward. "You scoundrels! All of you — get the hell out of my shop before I call the guard!"
Aunt Poe clutched her daughter to her chest, tears of gratitude in her eyes as she looked at Xuan Yan. "Thank you… thank you, Xuan Yan. If it weren't for you—"
The leader's bravado collapsed under the weight of the crowd's scorn. Some nearby disciples muttered about reporting him; others moved to block the exit. The three thugs cursed and pushed past, dragging their boss in a scramble to save face, but the market's mood had turned; curious faces followed them, whispers like knives.
Xuan Yan stood still, expression unreadable. He'd broken the performance with one sharp risk, exposed the fraud, and done what the swordsman had failed to do. Around him, the shop filled with relieved chatter, Aunt and Uncle Poe fawning with gratitude, Sister Poe looking at him with embarrassed admiration.