On the evening of the Flame Festival, the central square was a sea of cooking fires.
Heatwaves carried rich aromas, weaving a giant net that enveloped the entire Amber Corridor.
This was the tradition of the Flame Festival—the 100-person cooking contest.
Participants were not limited by race: a Horned Demon blacksmith brandished a massive ladle, stirring a bone-wolf soup that bubbled like molten lava; a Succubus tapped her fingernails against a glass, causing the Dreamfruit wine to emit a purple mist;
An Orc youth roasted a whole Rock-maned Boar, its fat dripping onto the charcoal with a loud *sizzle*; even a Lesser Imp tremblingly brought out a plate of charred mushroom cakes, drawing a wave of good-natured laughter from the crowd.
Jin stood before his own stove, his expression as focused as if facing a mortal enemy.
Beads of sweat slid down his forehead and along his cheek, but he didn’t have the spare moment to wipe them away.
Today, he was making “Frost-Flame Twin Dumplings.”
The skins were dyed a pale cyan with Moon-shadow Grass juice, and the filling was a finely processed Mingle Deer mince mixed with Night-cry Mushrooms.
The finishing touch, however, was the special Frost-Flame Sauce prepared by Xueyin.
“Don’t be nervous. Just perform at your usual level,” Xueyin said calmly.
Jin felt a warmth in his heart, and his originally tense nerves instantly relaxed.
With her behind him, it felt as though he could overcome even the most difficult trial.
He pulled himself together, his hands flying as he kneaded the dough, rolled out the wrappers, and stuffed the filling.
Every movement was a quest for perfection.
When the dumplings were placed into the pot, Jin precisely controlled the heat: first a fierce flame to boil them, then a gentle simmer.
A moment before taking them out, he drizzled on the special Frost-Flame Sauce.
In an instant, a strange fragrance erupted, and the dish released a brilliant golden light that shot toward everyone present.
The cyan dumpling skins were translucent, offering a glimpse of the tender pink meat inside.
Amidst the rising steam, there was actually a trace of cool air.
The fusion of ice and fire drilled straight into everyone’s nostrils.
“Time is up!” At the judging table, Laine and three elders took their seats in turn.
A Demon elder picked up a dumpling and put it in his mouth.
His white beard shook violently.
“The skin is ice-cold and refreshing, while the filling is piping hot and savory. Ice and fire merge without clashing, the layers are distinct—marvelous!”
The final scores were revealed:
First place went to a fox-kin grandmother’s “Glazed Braised Pork Trotters.”
It was a secret recipe passed down for a hundred years, filled with the warmth of time in its blend of sweet and salty.
Second place went to Jin’s “Frost-Flame Twin Dumplings.”
When the elder announced the results, the entire venue erupted in enthusiastic cheers.
Jin stepped forward to receive the “Demon Realm Special Grade Chef Certificate” from Laine.
It was an exquisite piece of etched gold foil, engraved with his name and the crest of the Malsace family, shining brightly under the firelight.
“Congratulations.”
Xueyin handed him a towel.
Though her tone was flat, her eyes held a smile she couldn’t quite hide.
“The taste was good. You didn’t embarrass the name of Moonlight and Flame.”
Jin wiped his hands clean.
Looking at the smiling Xueyin before him, he suddenly said in a low voice, “Master, you promised you’d wear your new clothes and accompany me to the night market tonight. Just the two of us.”
Xueyin paused, her eyes flickering.
Finally, she gave a soft nod. “Alright.”
—
Night fell, and all the Red Crystal lanterns of the Amber Corridor were lit.
The steam pipes in the Furnace District exhaled warm mist, shrouding the entire city in an amber tenderness.
Inside her room, Xueyin took a deep breath and secretly admonished herself: ‘Only tonight.’
The image of Jin’s focused profile at the stove surfaced in her mind, along with the look he gave her when he received his certificate—one of pure reliance and admiration.
A moment later, the door opened.
The figure of Xueyin walking out seemed to make the very air freeze for a second.
The Moon-shadow Silk dress clung to her figure, so light it seemed like a second skin.
The silver-gray base shimmered under the moonlight, as if an entire galaxy had been woven into the fabric.
The high collar remained, but elegant slits had been cut at the shoulders and neck, revealing a stretch of cold, white skin.
Her collarbones gleamed under the Red Crystal lamps, and her waist was cinched tight, making her figure appear even more slender yet full of strength.
With every movement, silver light flowed like a mountain stream under the moon.
Her silver hair was unbound, falling to her waist and swaying slightly in the night breeze.
The tips of her ears flushed with a faint silver hue from nervousness, and her frost-star eyes were downcast, her eyelashes trembling like butterfly wings.
With every step she took, it felt as if she were tearing away an old shell, revealing the vibrant, long-imprisoned soul beneath.
Jin had long been waiting at the meeting spot.
The moment he saw Xueyin walk out, he froze in place, and the recording stone in his hand nearly slipped.
“Mas… Master?” His voice was dry, and his dark red pupils were filled with shock and awe.
Xueyin’s cheeks were burning.
“Didn’t you say you wanted to visit the night market?” She forced herself to stay calm, but her voice trembled slightly.
“Let’s go.”
This night belonged to the two of them.
Xueyin was no longer the aloof Master.
She accompanied Jin as they wove through the bustling crowds.
“This is delicious!” Jin pointed at a “Lava Skewers” stall, his eyes shining brightly, excited as a child asking for candy.
Xueyin bought them without a word.
She didn’t hand them over directly; instead, she leaned closer, frowning slightly as she gently blew on the dripping meat.
“Be careful, it’s hot.”
She handed the first cooled skewer to Jin’s lips, her eyes filled with an almost clumsy concern.
Jin took a bite and squinted his eyes in satisfaction.
He then picked up another skewer and held it to Xueyin’s lips.
“Master, you try too!”
Xueyin wanted to refuse, but under Jin’s expectant gaze, she slightly opened her mouth and took a small bite.
The spiciness and savory flavor exploded on her tongue, stimulating her throat and causing her to cough lightly.
A thin layer of mist instantly gathered in the corners of her eyes, and her originally cold face was dyed with a vivid flush.
At that moment, Jin felt as if something had slammed hard into his heart.
Looking at the unshed tears in the corners of his Master’s eyes and her reddened lips, a surge of protective instinct towards this fragility rose within him.
They passed a stall selling masks.
Jin picked out a hideous demon mask and put it on, leaving only a pair of eyes curved in a smile.
He purposely lowered his voice to play the part of a demon.
“Roar! I’m a man-eating demon!”
Xueyin was stunned for a second before she couldn’t help but laugh.
She reached out, her fingertips lightly touching the rough edges of the mask.
Peering through the eyeholes into Jin’s eyes, she said softly, “If you are a demon, then you are a demon that protects people.”
They passed a wishing well.
Jin secretly tossed in a silver coin and pressed his hands together, murmuring under his breath.
Xueyin didn’t ask what he was wishing for; she simply stood quietly by his side, letting the night wind blow against the hems of their clothes.
“Master, look!” Jin suddenly pulled her toward a high platform.
At that moment, the first firework shot into the sky, exploding into a brilliant gold-and-red flower.
Following that, countless rains of shimmering light poured down, making the entire Amber Corridor look like a dream.
The fireworks were reflected in Xueyin’s silver eyes and in the depths of Jin’s.
“It’s beautiful. Are you happy this Flame Festival?” Xueyin sighed softly, her voice carrying an unnoticeable trace of relaxation.
“Yes, it’s truly beautiful! This is the happiest Flame Festival I’ve had since I was a child!” Jin turned his head.
His eyes were no longer on the fireworks but fixed firmly on the girl beside him.
In his vision, the sky full of fireworks became a blurred background.
Only the profile of the person beside him, outlined by light and shadow, was crystal clear.
There were galaxies in her eyes and a smile on her lips; she was an existence more dazzling than any magic.
“But the only beautiful scenery in my eyes is Master,” he said in a low, devout voice, as if stating an eternal truth.
Xueyin did not turn back, nor did she let Jin see her expression at that moment.
She stared at the fading fireworks in the sky.
Her voice was very light, yet it reached Jin’s ears clearly.
“Jin, come to my room tonight. I have something important to say to you.”
—
In the central plaza of the Amber Corridor, the night banquet was in full swing.
The tables were piled high with dishes from the cooking contest: bone-wolf ribs roasted by Horned Demons, Dreamfruit wine mixed by Succubi, and Night-glow mushroom soup gathered by the Orc youth.
Ailia was currently being pushed onto the stage by the crowd.
Xueyin was standing below the stage, holding Jin’s hand.
“Lady Xueyin, you should sing a song too! I heard that the songs of High Elves can make people forget their pain!” several members of the Amber Corridor gathering team called out from the crowd.
Xueyin’s body stiffened, and she instinctively wanted to shrink back.
But Ailia turned back to look at her.
Her flaxen-gold hair shimmered under the Red Crystal lamps.
There was no pressure in her eyes, only a nearly sorrowful tenderness.
“Xueyin, come. Just one song,” she said softly.
“For those who will never have the chance to hear a song again, and for the freedom of this moment.”
Xueyin closed her eyes.
the warmth from under the fireworks still lingered on her fingertips, and the temperature from Jin’s palm traveled through her skin, giving her an inexplicable courage.
Since she had already taken that step, why fear taking one more?
She let go of Jin’s hand, took a deep breath, and slowly stepped onto the high platform.
Her Moon-shadow Silk dress fluttered in the wind, and her silver hair flowed like a waterfall.
Ailia stepped forward and gripped her hand tightly.
The two stood side by side in the center of the wooden stage.
The Sister wore a snow-white dress, the skin on her open back appearing like porcelain, the rose pendant rising and falling with her breath.
The silver-haired girl wore her Moon-shadow Silk dress, her skin a cold white that was almost transparent.
One gold and one silver, one warm and one cold, yet they blended into a beautiful painting under the moonlight.
Ailia opened her lips and began to sing a lullaby from a southern village in Moon-glow Fortress. Her voice was as clear as a spring, carrying a power that soothed the heart.
Xueyin closed her eyes and joined in—
“The silver moonlight falls on the ancient trees,
The wind blows softly, smoothing the wounds of time.
Sleep, child, in the homeland of dreams,
Where there is no bitter winter, only the warm sun…”
It was an ancient High Elf requiem, flowing like a galaxy, moving like the wind through the treetops.
The moment their voices merged, a miracle descended.
Silver-white mana dissipated from around Xueyin like falling stardust.
The rose mark on the side of Ailia’s neck glowed faintly.
Holy Light and mana did not repel each other; instead, they wove into a pale gold mist that slowly enveloped the entire venue.
In the courtyard, the withered tundra quietly turned green.
An old scar on the Horned Demon blacksmith’s shoulder began to itch, as if new flesh were quietly reviving.
The cloudy eyes of an elderly servant demon reflected the image of his late wife in her youth, and he began to weep.
A Lesser Imp curled up in a corner, feeling for the first time the warmth of “being included” rather than the charity of “being tolerated.”
Below the stage, no one spoke or moved.
A fox-eared girl tilted her head back, her tail as fluffy as a cloud, her eyes filled with starlight.
A Succubus shopkeeper had purple eyes full of tears, her fingertips lightly stroking her collarless neck.
An Orc youth put down his roasting rack, his rough palms lightly tapping out the rhythm.
Jin stood in the front row, his dark red pupils reflecting the two figures on the stage.
The recording stone in his hand glowed dimly.
His fingertips trembled, and he hardly dared to breathe.
He remembered her holding his hand tightly under the fireworks just now, and her tenderness when she bought skewers for him.
At this moment, she was so dazzling, so real.
In this moment, the Seventh Ring of the Demon Realm was no longer a buffer zone or a land of exile.
It was home—a city of shimmering light built by a group of people abandoned by the world in a chaotic age.
“Freedom” no longer felt like a slogan; it was a reality that was within reach.
When the song ended, the melody lingered in the air.
The crowd was silent for three breaths before erupting into a mountain-shaking wave of applause and cheers.
Some shouted for an encore, some were covered in tears, and some embraced each other and wept.
In this world crushed by institutional violence, they felt for the first time what it was like to be cherished as a “person” rather than as “consumables.”
Jin looked down at the recording stone, his voice nearly choking.
“If only time could stop here.”
Laine walked up behind him at some point, his glass monocle reflecting the moonlight.
“Save a copy for me.”
His voice was unusually soft.
“Some moments are more precious than eternity.”
Jin nodded, his throat tightening.
“I want to remember it forever, too.”
However, just as the laughter and joy reached its peak, the lights at the edge of the square seemed to dim for an instant.
At the very edge of the banquet’s brightest halo, in the depths of the shadows, a pair of eyes stared fixedly at the stage.
It was a figure wrapped in a tattered black robe, the hood pulled extremely low.
The figure stood tall, with long fingers that turned white from being pressed forcefully into a wooden pillar.
The person’s stance was steady and their aura restrained; not a trace of mana leaked out.
Even when the elite patrol of the Lord’s Manor passed by them, not a single person noticed their existence—this was the ultimate concealment of someone seasoned by slaughter.
He recognized that Sister—Arya Therne, the notorious apostate on the Sin Purge Court’s most-wanted list.
Yet here she was, being treated as a treasure, the rose mark on her neck shining, her youth eternal, surrounded by genuine affection.
He also recognized that silver-haired girl—Xueyin Yueling.
She should have been a war consumable, flayed for her rose, yet here she stood in the light, her Moon-shadow Silk dress shimmering as thousands looked up to her.
He even saw that youth named Jin, looking at them with a face full of happiness as if he owned the entire world.
‘By what right?’
He roared in his heart, jealousy gnawing at him like a venomous snake.
‘This world never gives the weak a way to live, yet it rolls out the red carpet for traitors!’
‘This world commits plunder in the name of “order,” yet it can tolerate them singing and laughing here!’
‘Those so-called bonds and warmth are nothing more than castles built on sand. They will collapse with a single wave!’
‘The happier you are, the more I want to tear it all apart.’
His fingernails dug into the wooden pillar, leaving five deep-to-the-bone bloodstains.
Blood snaked down the wood grain, matching the hatred flowing through his heart.
‘Just you wait…’
He let out a silent sneer, his lips curling into a twisted arc.
‘Laughter and bonds… how disgusting. Truly nauseating. When judgment falls, when your Amber Corridor is burned to ash—I will personally nail you to the nameless monuments of Moon-glow Fortress. I’ll let the entire continent see that consumables deserve a consumable’s end! As for this fake utopia… by then, your despair will surely sound even sweeter than your laughter now.’
He turned and vanished into the darkness, his steps silent but carrying a hatred enough to incinerate the city.
No one knew his identity.
The world only knew that he would use blood to reclaim the debt the world owed him.
He was like a drop of venom, silently seeping into this pool of pure water, waiting for the moment the rot would spread.
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