Burning the Wick (II)

It was even livelier than I'd imagined. It truly lived up to its status as a first-class item.

For a brief moment, Fu Qian's gaze met that of the observer on the street corner.

The figure was quite imposing, standing well over two meters tall by the look of it. He wore a gray trench coat, and his glossy black hair covered one eye.

Alive, and definitely a demigod—but there was something unusual about his state.

A moment later, Fu Qian frowned.

There was something decidedly off about him. He was too calm—the kind of calm that came from not reacting to anything around him.

As if someone else were looking at Fu Qian from behind those eyes.

Of course, there was already more than one person watching him.

Fu Qian turned around.

In just a few seconds, both the coachman and the two horses had fallen fast asleep.

And at the other end of the road, a figure had appeared.

A woman of average height, with long, slender eyebrows. Beneath her loose, heavy cloak was a somewhat incongruous baby face.

Without a doubt, she was also a demigod.

Her build meant nothing. If anything, she seemed even harder to deal with.

And as someone who never got carried away by blind optimism, Fu Qian wasn't about to believe this was some story about lovers reunited after a long separation, meeting on a magpie bridge.

One in front, one behind, both moving soundlessly. They were clearly after him.

So he'd become prey.

A moment later, Fu Qian sighed.

He had to admit, this was a bit of a nuisance.

He had plenty of experience killing demigods, but as someone who preferred to keep the peace—and in such a quiet, tranquil place—starting a brawl felt a little inappropriate.

"I'm the one