Chapter 217 — That Which Must Not Be Looked Upon
The Herdsman of the Wasteland · Page 1 of 4
The Duke of Wei shot the plump boy a glare. This lad loved a commotion and never minded how big it grew: he had shoved his own family's old patriarch into the fire pit, and having shoved, meant to jump in after him. Beyond saving.
"Jade Heavenly King, Master Heavenly King, I must trouble you two to instruct Wei Heavenly King in a few matters of our Holy Cult."
Shen Mu looked around and said, "Gentlemen, tear this place down. Leave no trace."
Wei Yong and the Duke of Wei rose hastily to their feet. Figure after figure flickered past, and in but a moment the whole stockade had been dismantled clean, every plank and beam stacked neat and trim, not a hair out of place; even the iron cauldrons and the fire-oil stands had been gathered up and put away. So much work, done so cleanly in the space of a few breaths, that no one could have told a roaring night market had ever stood here.
"Break up," said Shen Mu.
Lanterns still burned in the distance: that was the night market beyond the city gate. Shen Mu rose and left too, leaving the four of them where they were. The Duke of Wei had only just entered the cult; Jade Heavenly King and Master Heavenly King would still have to explain the rules of the Dark Demon Cult to him, lest some trouble come of it.
Shen Mu walked on, stopping and starting as he pleased, savoring the capital's night market, admiring the lanterns, and before he knew it he had wandered back into the city. Bright lights burned on every side, gifted scholars and lovely women lingering there, loath to go home; men of letters showed off their wit and their airs, brawny fighting men paraded their powers, and now and then a woman's soft laughter drifted over.
"The capital truly is a place of ten thousand sights, a land that breeds the finest folk."
As Shen Mu sighed inwardly, all at once goose-feather flakes came whirling down from the sky, a great snow blowing wide, crystal flakes settling on the shoulders of those passersby who lingered. Many lifted their heads to look up, and many praised it: "Fine snow!"
Lit by the lamps of the city, the snow shone the brighter still; and not a few girls stood beneath the eaves of the shops along the street, stretching out their palms to let the cool flakes fall into them. Far from thinning, the crowds only grew.
"It's snowing, and the year's end is near. The Imperial Academy will soon be sending its scholars home for the New Year. I wonder whether Granny and the rest have gone back to the village."
Along both sides of the street stood many a stall steaming white and fragrant. Shen Mu sat down before a noodle stall. "Boss, two bowls of minced-pork noodles, heavy on the red oil."
"Right away!"
After a moment two great bowls of noodles were set before him, covered with a layer of glistening red chili oil; in the oil floated a few chunks of pork, three parts fat to seven parts lean, with a scattering of green garlic shoots besides, very fresh and savory. Shen Mu tasted it: hot, and bracing. He had eaten only once all day and was feeling hungry; head down, he ate until he steamed all over.
Just then a man laughed and said, "Brother Shen, I've finally run into you. You promised to forge me an iron-hulled ship, and this time you've no way out of it! Boss, four bowls of minced-pork noodles, extra hot; he'll settle the bill!" And with that he sat down across from Shen Mu.
Shen Mu looked up at him and smiled: "Brother Fan Yunxiao, what brings you to the capital?"
It was indeed Fan Yunxiao the Fire Bandit, a saber scar cutting across his left eye, a scar Shen Mu suspected had been pasted on.
"Don't even mention it. Bad luck."