Li Wei feels their gaze, a silent assessment as they prepare to enter. The air carries the sounds of the town's activity, a murmur of voices and the clatter of movement that spills out from beyond the gate. The scent of wood smoke drifts towards them, mingling with the freshness of the plains they leave behind.
He reigns in his horse, pausing at the boundary, waiting for the guards.
Li Wei notices the guards' immediate recognition of their attire. He glances at Dao Feng and Lin Yue. Their expressions reveal no surprise, an indication that such recognition is commonplace, perhaps expected. The realisation dawns on Li Wei; the reputation of the Bone Ash Sect precedes them, a shadow cast wide across the lands.
As Li Wei and his group drew closer to the gate, a guard stepped out, his posture rigid yet imbued with cautious deference. "Esteemed masters," he begins, his voice carrying a tremble that belies the effort to mask his unease, "your presence was not forewarned. May I escort you to the Magistrate, Lord Wen? He would wish to pay his respects immediately."
Following the underlying tension in the guard's demeanour, Li Wei shares a brief, knowing to look at Dao Feng and Lin Yue. The air between them crackles with unspoken power, a silent testament to the vast gulf between their realms of existence and the mortals.
Dao Feng's response is curt, a single nod that conveys their assent yet underscores their superiority. "Proceed," he commands, his tone leaving no room for hesitation.
Visibly swallowing his apprehension, the guard leads the way with hurried steps, casting furtive glances back at the imposing figures trailing him. The streets they traverse quickly empty, whispers and shadows flitting away as the townsfolk retreat from the path of the demonic cultivators.
Within the town, the streets are narrow, buildings rising on either side. The air carries the scent of smoke and cooking, the sounds of life within the walls a constant backdrop. People move aside as they pass, eyes downcast, whispers trailing in their wake.
As Li Wei waits by the village gates, his horse shifts restlessly, a natural consequence of the long journey behind them. Without warning, the horse relaxes its hindquarters, a brief pause in its movements signalling the impending act. Moments later, the street beneath the animal bears witness as droppings fall to the ground with a soft thud.
Guards, their posture a blend of caution and veneration, navigate the serpentine alleys, guiding Li Wei and his entourage. Around them, the town reveals itself as a mosaic of life and activity. They reach a building, its stature and design towering above the modest homes dotting the landscape, a silent proclamation of its authority within the town.
Upon reaching the magistrate's residence, the guard hastens to announce their arrival, his words tumbling out in a rush. "Magistrate Lord Wen, the esteemed masters from the demonic cultivation realm grace us with their presence."
They are ushered inside a spacious room where the magistrate awaits. He stands as they enter, his posture rigid, the lines on his face deepened by the weight of his office.
The air shifts as Lord Wen emerges, bearing one of forced composure. "Masters," he intones, his voice laced with a veneer of calm that does little to conceal the undercurrent of fear. "To what do we owe the honour of this... visit? Our humble town is at your disposal."
Li Wei observes the play of emotions across Lord Wen's face, a mixture of dread and compelled respect. The power dynamic is palpable, the air thick with the unspoken understanding of the true nature of their visit.
Dao Feng steps forward, his presence alone a statement of their demands. "We seek passage and provisions. Your compliance will ensure the safety of your town," he states, a veiled threat woven through the fabric of his words.
Lord Wen bows, a gesture deep enough to border on subservience. "Of course, masters. Everything you require shall be provided. Our town is yours to command," he replies, the submission in his voice a stark testament to the power imbalance between them.
The town had paused, his hands clasped tightly in front of him. "If I may," he continues, each word measured, "there is a matter that plagues our people. Bandits have taken to the roads, and our traders suffer under their threat. I understand it is not your purpose, but if you could lend us your strength..."
As the magistrate's plea hangs in the air, his demeanour shifts, embodying a desperation that wasn't fully apparent at the outset. "I implore you, masters," he continues, his voice dropping to a near whisper, each word heavy with the weight of his position. "These bandits, they're beyond our capability to manage. Each day grows darker for our people as the threat looms larger, unchecked. We've reached our limits in dealing with them."
He pauses, the silence stretching between them punctuated by his laboured breathing, a man burdened by the safety of his town yet powerless to ensure it. "Our efforts have faltered; we're at the mercy of these marauders. Your strength, however, will turn the tide."
Before the magistrate could continue, Dao Feng's response cut through the tension, his voice cold and unyielding. "The audacity to implore the Bone Ash Sect for aid as if we were common soldiers for hire," he says, his disdain palpable. "Your predicament, while unfortunate, is not our concern. We walk a path far removed from the plights of your kind."
The magistrate's face falls, the last vestiges of hope dimming in his eyes. His stance, once that of a man clinging to the possibility of salvation, now crumbles into one of resignation. He bows deeply, a gesture of submission to their unyielding stance. Yet, it carries an undercurrent of despair—a silent acknowledgement of the grim reality that awaits his people without the intervention he desperately sought.
Li Wei watches the exchange, the magistrate's request and Dao Feng's swift rebuke painting a clear picture of the gulf between their worlds. Yet, a spark of interest flickers within him. "I'll do it," Li Wei interjects, his voice cutting through the tension. "I'm bored anyway."
Dao Feng turns to him, a moment of silence stretching between them. "So be it," he finally says, a nod signalling his reluctant agreement.
As Li Wei observes, the magistrate's demeanour shifts into profound gratitude, his actions speaking volumes more than his words ever could. Upon hearing Li Wei's unexpected offer, the magistrate falls to his knees, his forehead touching the ground in a gesture of deep respect and overwhelming thankfulness. "Thank you, esteemed master, for considering our plight," he utters, voice muffled against the floor, his form bent in the ultimate show of deference.
The magistrate remains low, his body language exuding a reverence and a desperate hope that had seemed all but extinguished moments before. "Your intervention is a beacon of light for our beleaguered town. We are eternally in your debt, honoured disciple," he continues, his words punctuated by the quiet intensity of his kowtow.
Rising slightly, the magistrate's hands press against the ground, his forehead still bowed, unwilling to rise too soon, too fast, lest it be seen as a sign of disrespect. "Your benevolence will be sung by our people across generations," he promises.
Li Wei watches the display, the stark contrast between the magistrate's abject humility and Dao Feng's aloof power not lost on him. Dao Feng's nod, though reluctant, seals the agreement, an unspoken contract forged in the face of desperation and acknowledged with the weight of tradition and gratitude.
With slow, deliberate movements, the magistrate finally allows himself to stand, though he remains hunched, a physical manifestation of his continued respect and acknowledgement of the cultivators' superiority. When he finally lifts his gaze, his eyes shine with relief and unshed tears, a silent testament to the depth of his gratitude. "Thank you, honoured disciple. Your actions today will not be forgotten. Our town will forever hold you in the highest esteem," he affirms, his voice steady now, bolstered by the hope Li Wei's acceptance has granted him.
Li Wei watches as Dao Feng and Lin Yue depart, their figures receding into the distance, leaving him in the quiet company of the magistrate. Turning his attention back to the matter, he addresses the magistrate directly, "Tell me more about these bandits."
The magistrate, relieved yet anxious to share the information, leans in slightly, lowering his voice as if the very air might carry his words to unwanted ears. "They lurk in the shadows of the forest that borders our village," he begins, his hands clasped tightly. "Using guerrilla tactics, they ambush traders and travellers alike, vanishing before a response can be mustered. Their attacks are swift, leaving little trace save for the chaos in their wake."
Li Wei nods, absorbing the details with a strategist's mind. "I need a few chickens," he states a seemingly unrelated request that draws a bewildered look from the magistrate.
"Chickens, master?" the magistrate echoes, confusion writ plain on his face.
"Do you want me to do this or not?" Li Wei responds, his tone leaving no room for debate.
The magistrate recovers quickly, the situation's urgency overriding his initial perplexity. "No no no no, of course, I will attend to it immediately," he assures, eager to accommodate any request that might aid their predicament.
Turning to one of the guards standing at the ready, the magistrate issues his instructions with newfound urgency. "Jin," he commands, the directive clear and authoritative, "take the master to the house and make sure he has everything he needs. Spare no expense."
The guard nods, stepping forward to lead Li Wei to a residence prepared for such distinguished guests. As they walked, the sounds of village life resumed around them, a subtle orchestra of daily existence that had momentarily paused at the arrival of the cultivators.
As they arrive at the house, Li Wei takes a moment to survey his temporary quarters. The promise of the magistrate to spare no expense is evident in the accommodations provided.