Zhenxing tied the square of black silk behind his head, the fabric cool against the lower half of his face. All that showed were his black pearl eyes, tiger-fierce under his angled brows. A mild precaution on the off-chance someone recognized him and reported him to the Heavenly Realm. 

He picked up Yueguang, the scabbard burning his hands with chill. It had been temperamental since he had left Lixin's mansion, getting colder and colder the closer he had gotten to the borders of Ghost City. He had recast the barrier that lay snug over his skin, hiding his identity as a resident of the Heavenly Realm.

As far as anyone could tell, he was a normal, human cultivator with a singular amount of spiritual power.

Zhenxing was a little more prepared for the hustle and hubbub of Ghost City this time. He cradled Yueguang in his crossed arms as he walked, ignored now by a large majority of the crowd. Many others wore masks—those who had serious business in Ghost City—and it was deemed as courtesy not to interfere with them.

After all, there was a lucrative trade in dealing curses and charms, weapons holy and unholy, and information to the human cultivators brave, powerful or desperate enough to come seeking dealers in Ghost City. Similar to the Human Realm, profit reigned as the supreme virtue here in the Ghost Realm and was not to be messed with.

Of these things available, Zhenxing sought the third. He was not so sure whether he fell into the brave, powerful or desperate category, though, he had an uncomfortable idea that it was most likely the third again. 

As he walked through the crowds, ignoring the vendors shouting at him to purchase their tricks and charms, Zhenxing kept his eyes peeled for a very specific sign. He did not remember the name of the shop—it had been a very long time since he went there with Hu Ye—but he clearly remembered the design on the store front. Unfortunately...he did not so clearly remember what road it was on.

As he wandered, several other cultivators, their faces usually half-hidden by masks of silk or silver, inclined their heads to acknowledge him. He returned the gesture out of habit, idly wondering what had driven supposedly righteous men and women into a place just shy of Hell. As he caught the eye of a particularly graceful woman in silver robes with a closed-off expression, he wondered if they were seeking revenge as he was, or if they were here in nobler pursuits. 

Every now and then, Yueguang would rattle in its scabbard, but whenever Zhenxing looked into the crowds, he never found a dashing prince with bright, phoenix eyes striding toward him. He ignored the small twinge of disappointment each time, walking faster down the streets.

Bright paper lanterns swayed overhead, washing everything in gold and red as night fell heavy over Ghost City. While it was lively in the daytime, at night the city was just a few steps short of a riot. 

The music and shouting grew wilder and more raucous. Ghosts ran to and fro, running errands for their overlords or flirting with low-level demons and monsters. Street performers and buskers spewed fire or swallowed swords, storytellers shouted and embellished tales of daring and tragedy. The smell of roasting meat was overwhelming, making Zhenxing gag even with his mask.

Fireworks burst overhead, bright flowers of gold and red.

Even the side roads and alleys were jam-packed with activity. People and creatures hustling back and forth. Backstreet dealers selling stolen goods on the sly. Prostitutes who belonged to no specific brothel offering themselves to whoever happened to glance their way. More food stalls peddling all manner of dishes.

Zhenxing didn't know if he was supposed to be amused or horrified by Ghost City.

Yueguang shuddered, its temperature swinging wildly. Zhenxing turned, scanning the crowd in a particularly packed section of road. Nothing grabbed his attention, save a pair of cultivators, one in black and the other in white. One serious, the other teasing. Graceful and lively, they complemented each other perfectly.

It fascinated him, and he watched as they walked and chatted, moving perfectly together like a pair of magnets that never strayed too far apart. The one in black grabbed the white one's arm, dragging him to a display of indecent books. An alarmed expression crossed the white one's face, but it softened ever so slightly as the one in black cackled in delight.

Zhenxing watched them, an odd feeling weighing down his chest until they disappeared into the crowd. He shook his head and directed his attention once more to the buildings.

Hours melted by as he searched, impatience sharpening his temper. His nerves were overtaxed and raw with all of the sensory input, and all he desired was a little peace and quiet.

It didn't help that his mind kept straying longingly to the image of a peaceful courtyard, the air filled with the delicate scents of plum blossom, haitang and lotus flowers.

It wasn't until the very small hours of the morning had slipped by that Zhenxing finally chanced upon what he wanted. He nearly let out a whoop of victory when he saw the design he remembered from the past.

A beautiful, dancing fairy made of stars.

Lovely...and a little indecent.

Zhenxing gripped Yueguang tighter, ignoring as it grew bitingly cold, grumbling in its own, silent way. He shot toward the door, excitement overriding caution, and nearly slammed into another man as he exited the shop.

"Watch where you're going," the man snapped, brushing at his prim-and-proper robes, his collars pulled high.

The cultivator shot a hard glance at him, his bearing frosty and untouchable as the night sky in winter, making his beauty somehow sharp. Zhenxing bobbed his head, muttering an apology. As he tried to edge around the harsh man, he nearly ran right into another.

This one was more pleasant-looking, but far more dangerous. Zhenxing veered wide, a shudder running down his spine as the smell of blood and madness radiated around the second man. He looked at Zhenxing, spiritual energy suddenly whipping around him as his suspicious eyes wandered from his companion back to Zhenxing.

Zhenxing put his hand on Yueguang, unsure what he'd done to provoke such an introduction.

The spiritual energy disappeared when the cold man coughed, doubling over. The mad one promptly forgot Zhenxing's existence, placing a hand on the other's shoulder to support him. Blood dripped from between the cold one's pale fingers, his body crumpling against the mad one's.

Zhenxing's pupils shrank in surprise when the mad one swept the other into his arms. The cold one struggled briefly, but was coughing too hard and spitting up too much blood to effectively resist. The mad one's dark robes swirled as he stormed past Zhenxing, muttering, "Why can't you just ever fucking listen to me, Shizun. I told you to stay out of the fucking cold."

That didn't seem right. Puzzled by the bizarre interaction between master and disciple, Zhenxing watched the pair leave, the cold one clutched possessively to the mad one's chest as he wove through the crowd.

Shuddering once more, he absently patted Yueguang to calm its excited rattling. Thinking the blade had been stirred up by the random aggression of the madman they'd just met, he didn't pay it much heed.

He was far too eager to slip inside the store.

Darkness enveloped him. Zhenxing stayed very still until a soft sigh snaked through the shadows and a single candle was lit. The flickering flame guided him to the center of the room. He cupped his hands and bowed deeply before taking a seat.

More little flames bloomed, shedding light on the person who sat opposite him.

She neither smiled nor frowned at him, nor did she speak.

Dressed in drab, black robes that did nothing to take away from her aching beauty, the woman only poured first herself, then Zhenxing a cup of tea. Pulling back her draping sleeve, she handed the cup to him.

Jet hairpins glittered in the candlelight as she dipped her head, sipping from her own cup. Zhenxing held his breath against the pungent, herbal smell, nearly gagging on the extreme bitterness of the brew.

The woman did not speak until he finished his tea. Then, she poured another cup for them both and tilted her head. Milky white eyes met his, and she spoke in a low, husky voice.

"Welcome, Attendant of the Tiger Immortal."

Word Count: 1390

Total: 17,803