Night slowly descended. One by one, oil lamps were lit along the streets of Liuchuan Town. Laughter and the aroma of food mingled in the summer night breeze, carrying a warm, unmistakably human sense of life.
Following the direction of the Yao Disc's needle, Lin Yaochen led Mozi and Ge Zhiyao through the bustling crowd. They finally stopped before an exceptionally lively tavern—Juxin Pavilion.
The building stood two stories tall, supported by red-lacquered wooden pillars beneath sweeping eaves. Several large red lanterns bearing the characters "Juxin" hung at the entrance. Inside, the air was thick with fragrance and chatter. Servers hurried in and out carrying steaming dishes; business was so good it seemed the threshold might be worn down.
Lin Yaochen halted and glanced down at the Yao Disc.
The crystal bead at its center glowed faintly, and the needle—having pointed this way ever since they neared Juxin Pavilion—now stood perfectly still.
"It should be here," he murmured, excitement and confusion mingling in his voice. "The needle stopped the moment we reached this place."
"So… we're looking for someone here?" Ge Zhiyao asked quietly, her gaze sweeping over the lively hall, brows knitting slightly.
"If the Disc reacts, it means there's Yao energy here," Mozi said evenly. "The Fire Yao… should be somewhere inside this building."
The moment they stepped through the door, the Yao Disc trembled faintly in Lin Yaochen's chest. A crimson glow seeped through the fabric like a heartbeat.
The tavern was packed. Downstairs was full, the shopkeeper shouting orders at the top of his lungs.
"Table three, add a dish! Soup for table five! Hurry, hurry—don't keep them waiting!"
The kitchen curtain lifted, and a young man emerged carrying a large pot of steaming soup. He looked about seventeen or eighteen, with clean, sharp features. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, his bangs damp with sweat. A sheen of moisture dotted his brow, yet he didn't look flustered in the least.
The instant the pot was carried out, the Yao Disc flared scarlet.
Lin Yaochen sucked in a breath and hurriedly covered his chest with his hand, hiding the Disc.
"That's him," he whispered. "The Fire Yao."
The young man set the soup down steadily, flashed the customers a quick smile, exchanged a few words, then turned briskly back toward the kitchen. His movements flowed like water, firelight dancing over him as though flames themselves were his natural element.
Ge Zhiyao whispered, "Does he know what he is?"
"Doesn't look like it," Mozi said, eyes gleaming. "But his control over fire is completely instinctive. That's not something an ordinary person can achieve."
They didn't approach him right away. Instead, they took a seat in a corner and ordered several dishes. Lin Yaochen pretended to study the menu, though his eyes kept drifting toward the kitchen.
He snuck glances at the young man, a mix of admiration and curiosity rising in his chest.
"Wow… the way he cooks… he actually looks kind of cool."
"That's because he's doing what he loves," Ge Zhiyao said softly.
The tavern was thick with heat and noise.
Lin Yaochen took a sip of soup and froze.
"This soup—how can it be this good? The heat is perfect. The aroma is completely locked in!"
Zhiyao nodded faintly. "The knife work, the fire control, the flavor… this is far beyond what an ordinary apprentice could do."
Mozi merely said, "His control over fire is innate."
Just then, a dull boom echoed from the kitchen.
"Something's wrong—the stove flared up!"
The shopkeeper's panicked shout followed. "Water! Get water—now!"
Lin Yaochen sprang to his feet, but Mozi stopped him.
"Don't move. Watch carefully."
A figure dashed through the chaos and straight into the kitchen.
Bathed in firelight, the young man stood before the stove, expression calm. He didn't pour water. Instead, he reached out, grasping the air.
In the next instant, the rampaging flames were pulled inward as if seized by an invisible hand, gathering neatly beneath the pot. The wild fire settled, shrinking until only a steady flame remained. The young man stood alone at the stove, a sheen of sweat on his brow. He lowered his hand, clapped the lid down with a thump, and the fire vanished completely.
Silence fell over the tavern.
The customers stared, eyes wide, as the young man turned, brushed off his sleeves, and smiled.
"Sorry about that, everyone. The fire just acted up a bit. Your dishes will be right out."
A moment later, thunderous applause erupted.
Lin Yaochen gaped. "This… this is basically a fire immortal, isn't it?!"
"No," Mozi said quietly. "This is the Fire Yao."
Ge Zhiyao's brows lifted slightly, her gaze complex. "He doesn't even know who he is… yet his power has already awakened."
The young man brought a dish over to their table, smiling politely.
"Signature stir-fried twin peppers. Please enjoy."
Lin Yaochen seized the chance. "You cooked this?"
The young man paused, then nodded. "Yeah."
"This fire control is incredible," Lin Yaochen said, shoveling a bite into his mouth and nodding exaggeratedly. "Amazing—pure fire flavor, perfectly balanced!"
The young man scratched his head, a little embarrassed. "It's nothing special. I grew up in the kitchen. After a while… it just comes naturally."
"You learned cooking from childhood?" Zhiyao asked.
"Mm. I'm an orphan. I grew up here in the tavern. I learned whatever I could." He smiled gently. "Fire's always felt familiar to me. I'm not afraid of it… and it doesn't burn me."
The three exchanged glances—no doubt about it.
Lin Yaochen shifted his tone. "May I ask your name?"
The young man thought for a moment. "My name is… Luo Yan."
Mozi narrowed his eyes, studying Luo Yan not as a person, but like a compressed source of blazing Yao energy.
"Luo Yan, is it?" Mozi said evenly. "How long have you worked in the kitchen?"
"Since I can remember. More than ten years, I guess." Luo Yan smiled. "Uncle Fu picked me up. He said he pulled me out of a fire. Others thought I was unlucky—only he kept me."
"Unharmed by fire, able to merge with its qi…" Mozi murmured, as if confirming an old legend.
Lin Yaochen scratched his head. "So how do you control fire so precisely? That level of control has to be talent, right?"
Luo Yan hesitated, as if hearing the question for the first time.
"Fire… I can feel it. Whether it's fast or strong, I don't need to see it. It's like breathing."
Mozi's gaze sharpened. "Have you ever touched fire with your bare hands?"
"Huh?" Luo Yan's eyes widened. "That'd be crazy… but there was once a pot of oil caught fire. I panicked and slapped the lid down with my hands. Nothing happened."
The Yao Disc trembled faintly in Lin Yaochen's grasp, as if responding to this unspoken confirmation.
Mozi chuckled softly, the sound final and decisive.
"Kid, you're not an ordinary cook. You are—the Fire Yao."
Luo Yan froze. "Fire Yao…? What's that supposed to mean?"
"You'll understand in time," Mozi said calmly. "But right now, you need to choose a path."
Luo Yan gestured at the food on their table. "You… didn't come just to eat?"
"Eating's a bonus," Lin Yaochen said with a grin. "Finding you was the real goal."
"If you're willing to leave and come with us," Mozi added, "we can explain the things no one ever explained to you. We can help you understand who you are—and what you can become."
Luo Yan stared at them, momentarily speechless.
The hall outside buzzed with voices and sizzling oil, but this corner seemed wrapped in a faint glow of firelight—
as though a fuse of destiny had just been quietly lit.
"Wait here," Luo Yan said at last. "I'll go tell Uncle Fu."
Ge Zhiyao watched his retreating back and murmured, "So… he's willing to come with us?"
"Probably?" Lin Yaochen replied around a mouthful of food, then brightened and turned to her.
"Hey, A-Yao, you have to try this dish. It's incredible."
He pushed the plate toward her, clearly afraid she'd miss out.
Zhiyao glanced at him, smiled despite herself, and took a bite.
"It really is good."
Luo Yan slipped past the kitchen curtain and stopped by the stove.
"Uncle Fu… I want to go with them for a while." He pointed toward Lin Yaochen's table.
The old head chef paused mid-stir and looked at him. Firelight danced across the wrinkles on his face, his expression unreadable.
"So… the day has finally come," he said softly. He set the ladle aside, reached into a small drawer by the stove, and took out a cloth bundle, handing it to Luo Yan.
Luo Yan froze. Inside was a hard object. He opened it to find an old, polished silver longevity lock engraved with a small character—"Luo."
"This is…?"
Uncle Fu sighed gently. "When I found you, this was hanging around your neck. You had nothing else—could barely speak. Just this lock."
He tapped the character. "I never knew whether 'Luo' was a surname or a name. So I figured… I'd call you Luo Yan."
Luo Yan stared at the worn silver lock, fingers tracing the character. A deep, quiet tremor passed through his heart. He'd always known he was different—but he'd never truly asked why.
"Thank you… for taking me in all these years."
Uncle Fu waved it off with a smile. "Don't say that. The day I found you, you were like a little lump of charcoal—filthy, but with the brightest eyes. I knew you wouldn't stay in this kitchen forever. I just didn't expect that day to come so soon."
"Uncle Fu… I'll come back," Luo Yan said firmly, light shining in his eyes.
"Remember—Fire burns bright, but the road ahead can be cold. Take care of yourself."
Luo Yan nodded hard, tied the longevity lock at his waist, and turned toward the door—
stepping out to meet the flames of his fate.