Wedding Feast

Lu Huan stuffed the last piece of braised meat into her mouth and mumbled, "I'm full."

Shen Hui rose to his feet and led her upstairs.

The guest room was at the end of the second floor. Pushing open the door, they found the furnishings simple: a carved wooden bed stood against the wall, its bedding folded neatly.

Lu Huan kicked off her shoes and climbed onto the bed, hugging the quilt as she rolled around once before curling into a comfortable position.

Shen Hui went to the window and pushed it open. The chill autumn night wind, laden with frost, poured in.

He formed a fire incantation with his fingers. A flame leapt at his fingertips, then he gently tossed it out the window.

The flame flew out and burst soundlessly in midair, scattering into hundreds upon thousands of fire sparks like drifting fireflies that floated down into every corner of the town.

Each spark found a corpse and landed upon it, burning without a sound.

In only a few moments, the more than one hundred corpses in the town had burned to nothing.

Shen Hui closed the window, sat cross-legged before it, and entered meditation with his eyes shut.

The following morning, daylight had only begun to break.

Lu Huan sat up from the bed, rubbing her eyes, and discovered that Shen Hui had already been standing by the window waiting for some time.

"Let's go."

Hearing movement behind him, he spoke without turning around.

The two went downstairs, passed through the empty streets and alleys, and left the town.

Shen Hui did not ride his sword, merely walking unhurriedly along the mountain path.

Sword flight could carry one a thousand miles in an instant. It was certainly exhilarating, but it also meant missing many things.

The smoke