Kael lifted the delicate skewer of glistening meat toward his lips with the same focus and reverence a priest might offer when lifting sacred relics.
The scent alone could make a grown man cry, savory and smoky, with hints of something sweet and spicy lingering underneath.
The dish was called Stormfire Boar Belly, and it was, apparently, the pride of this village's finest restaurant, the Fragrant Lotus Pavilion.
A modest yet elegant eatery tucked right across the street from the now-familiar merchant shop. After one bite? Kael was convinced the name undersold it.
The meat melted in his mouth like slow-burning butter kissed by the sun, while thin green pepper oils exploded against his tongue like fireworks.
It was the kind of flavor that made you reconsider your life choices. For a moment, just one blessed moment, Kael forgot about sect plots, stolen artifacts, fake recoveries, or scheming sky disciples.
Because this… this was heaven on a stick. He chewed slowly, carefully, like each bite was an ancient treasure being unlocked.
"This world," he said between mouthfuls, "has its chaos, its monsters, its psycho cultivators with too much muscle and more than enough brain. But this food? I might forgive it all."
Helga, ever the composed warrior, was seated across from him, arms crossed and posture regal as ever.
But even she wasn't immune. Her plate was filled with crispy lotus root chips, a sizzling plate of vinegar eel strips, and a side bowl of creamy white rice soaked in sweet-tangy plum sauce.
She didn't speak. But the fact that she had just ordered a second bowl of eel strips said everything. Kael gestured at her with his chopsticks.
"And you, Miss I-don't-show-emotion, are on your third refill. Admit it. You love this stuff."
Helga said nothing. She just picked up another lotus chip, crunched it like it had personally offended her ancestors.
She raised one eyebrow in a way that said: If you speak again, I will stab you with this chopstick.
Kael laughed softly and leaned back, watching a paper lantern sway gently above their table. The afternoon sun cast long golden streaks through the windows. The smells of spice, grilled meat, and sugar floated lazily in the warm air.
The tavern wasn't too busy, which made the moment feel strangely peaceful. For once, Kael wasn't surrounded by blood or battle cries or betrayal. Just… pork belly and clever thoughts.
When they were done, Kael tossed a few bronze talens onto the tray and stretched, letting out a satisfied sigh.
"Alright," he muttered, standing. "Meal of the year. Maybe the decade. Now… let's see if the world has caught up to me yet."
He stepped toward the window and peeked outside, eyes instantly narrowing. Across the street, right in front of the shattered shop where the so-called "Sunstone Token" had been "recovered," a small crowd had started to form.
Villagers muttered and pointed, clearly curious about the return of the infamous merchant.
And there he was, red-faced, arms waving wildly, shouting at the gawkers like a drunk father shooing children off his porch.
"If you're not buying, then go home! This isn't a theater! I've got prices! I've got real goods!" he barked, veins bulging in his neck. "I'm open for business, not free entertainment!"
Kael's lips curved into a slow, knowing smirk. That was it. That was the final nail.
He watched the merchant's tantrum like a king watching a jester flail, and in his mind, the puzzle pieces started to click into place.
That little drama back at the village head's mansion? That wasn't punishment. That was hospitality.
The merchant had probably been greeted with a warm meal, a soft chair, maybe even a pat on the back for playing his role so well.
His return to the shop, loudly angry and swatting at the crowd, was the perfect end scene to a perfect act.
It looked like a man who'd just been grilled by the authorities. But Kael knew better. It was a performance.
And the fact that he was shouting so much about not wanting attention meant the opposite. He was supposed to draw just the right amount of it.
Kael processed it all at once, the logic firing through his brain like a thunderstorm of insights.
One: The merchant was in on it. Probably from the start. He didn't just "buy" the Sunstone Token from Silas. It was planted in his shop.
He got paid in favors or gold to act surprised and scream a lot. He did his job perfectly.
Two: The village head was obviously part of the scheme. That fake interrogation earlier wasn't just a distraction tactic. It was so they could make the merchant look innocent to outsiders. A performance for the villagers.
"Look how the Sky Sword Sect treats everyone fairly! Even lowly merchants!" It was all damage control. They didn't want their "reputation" to take a hit if word spread that their precious artifact was stolen.
Three: The whole "recovery" of the Sunstone Token was staged. A distraction. A fake conclusion.
Four: That meant the real hunt for Silas was already underway in private. Quiet. Dangerous. Clean.
And most importantly?
Five: They believed Silas was still in this village. They were counting on it. That's why they made the recovery so loud and public. To make him think the pressure was off.
Oh no, they found the token! They must think the I'm long gone and are trying to protect their reputation! Whew!
Kael imagined Silas relaxing in some alley or shack, thinking he was in the clear.
It was brilliant. Cruel. Classic Sky Sword Sect politics.
"Helga," Kael said softly. "They're closing in."
She glanced at him sideways, licking a drop of plum sauce from her thumb. "The sect?"
He nodded. "Final phase. They made their little show. Staged the artifact recovery. Now they'll move for the real prize: Silas. But they'll do it quiet.
"They don't want the villagers thinking the sect failed. So if they catch him now, it'll look like a delayed cleanup. If they fail, no one will ever know."
Helga tilted her head. "And us?"
Kael's smile widened.
"We profit."
Because Kael wasn't interested in Silas out of justice or vengeance. No. Kael was interested in opportunity. And wherever chaos moved, it always left space for clever men to carve out something valuable. Gold, power, information, allies.
But first… he needed to meet the village head.
And that was easier than people thought.
He looked across the street at the merchant's open doors. Gleaming shelves lined with rare goods shimmered in the sunlight. Gemstones, pills, scrolls, beast hides, even a crystal flute.
He turned to Helga. "Let's go shopping."
And just like that, Kael and Helga stepped out of the tavern and crossed the street with casual grace.
The merchant spotted them walking in and quickly wiped his sweaty forehead, forcing on a strained smile.
"Welcome, welcome!" he chirped, voice now as sweet as honeyed wine. "Please, good sirs and madams, tell me what you desire! I sell the rare and the wondrous!"
Kael stepped into the cool interior, his eyes scanning the glittering display of exotic items, fake deals, and hidden schemes.
"Don't worry," he said, lips twitching with amusement. "I know exactly what I'm looking for."