Chapter 109: Radiant Seton (Part 1): Wine Wine Wine Wine Wine Wine Wine Part 3

The city gates stood open. From outside, they could see long, wide streets paved with black stone bricks, like scales on a black serpent’s back. The houses on either side were built of stone blocks, their roofs red, green, yellow—in a riot of colors, like patchwork on a black quilt when viewed in sequence.

Green banners hung before every door and household, depicting two white serpents entwined, their four eyes blood-red. Taller buildings stood farther in, with sharp-pointed tops like castles, and beyond them loomed snow mountains shrouded in mist.

Snow had been cleared from the rooftops, with some fallen by the doors—this work must have just been finished. Yet the entire street was eerily silent, devoid of people!

The four slowly entered the city. The heavy gates rumbled shut behind them with a boom, shaking loose flakes of snow.

As they wondered why the city was empty, a light flickered at the street’s end. It grew several times brighter. Looking over, they saw eight tall white steeds approaching slowly, each bearing a soldier clad head to toe in silver armor.

Each held ruby-inlaid reins in one hand and rested the other on the hilt of a greatsword at their waist. The clip-clop of iron horseshoes on the ground mixed with the metallic clank of rubbing armor—heavy yet light, echoing through the street.

Behind the steeds came a carriage entirely plated in gold. At its four corners coiled white serpents carved with exquisite precision, piled beneath with intricate motifs of poisonous flowers, flying eagles, and more, making the whole vehicle ponderously luxurious. It could not gallop, only crawl slowly, dazzling and suffocating under the sun.

The procession advanced proudly to the gates. A person stepped down from the golden carriage.

Golden hair, green eyes, bewitchingly beautiful with soul-stealing long eyes. She wore white robes adorned with countless gold jewels that jingled dazzlingly, without overshadowing her stunning features. The hand she used to steady herself on the carriage gleamed like treasure. As she descended, the forehead ornament beneath her beauty mark swayed with each step, chiming a light melody in harmony with the silver chain at her ankle.

It was Fu Li, putting on such a grand show. Mu Qian Tan was somewhat speechless.

No need to ask whom this spectacle was for. Just as she guessed, Fu Li stopped before Jiang Zhouyao, one hand behind her back, the other extended, bending slightly at the waist. “Please.”

Mu Qian Tan glanced at Qin He, who looked away helplessly, and watched the scene unfold.

During last year’s Assembly Council and Civil and Martial Trials, this Fu girl had eyed Jiang Zhouyao plenty. Now she had even sent an invitation letter—persistent in her pursuits, clearing the streets and rolling out a carriage fleet, just like a flower peacock madly displaying its plumage.

She probably wanted to dazzle Jiang Zhouyao with wealth and keep her here. Unfortunately, her scheme missed the mark. Feng Ling Immortal was no lover of riches.

A beauty inviting a beauty, accompanied by drifting snowflakes—the scene was indeed picturesque. Unfortunately, Shang Shan chose that moment to speak up. “Fu Li, is that carriage of yours made entirely of gold?”

Her mouth nearly watered. “It smells so good!”

The romantic atmosphere Fu Li had carefully crafted shattered. She broke character and snapped, “What’s so good-smelling about a carriage!”

Recalling this person’s feat of eating gold, she understood. “Got it—you like eating gold? The banquet we prepared for you has just started. Head back to the palace now, and you can eat your fill today.”

Shang Shan wiped her mouth. “Great! Let me on the carriage quick!”

Fu Li said, “Go on, shoo—this one’s for two people only, prepared for the immortal. You lot take the one in back.”

Shang Shan glanced sideways and saw a silver-plated carriage behind, which looked far less appealing than the gold one. She grumbled as Qin He, eager to leave, dragged her to the silver carriage. Fu Li was delighted and about to help Jiang Zhouyao aboard when she suddenly noticed another immortal present.

If not for Shang Shan and that lifesaving grace, she never would have invited this irritating person. She was about to berate her when she met those cold eyes and found herself speechless. Inevitably frustrated—this was her home turf! A flick of her fingers would summon a horde of soldiers at her command. How was she still cowed by this woman? By the time she recovered, the woman had vanished.

Though Mu Qian Tan did not care for Fu Li’s gaze, thinking of her fate in the original book made her less eager to discipline her. She went to the silver carriage and sat down. It was twice as spacious as the gold one, with seats wrapped in soft red velvet and a small table before them holding tea and snacks. Not as extravagant as the gold carriage, but extremely comfortable.

The street was wide enough, but turning the carriages still took time. Once they were steadily underway, Shang Shan had already devoured most of the snacks. She gazed out the window at the streets. “Seton City is so big.”

Qin He had never seen such architecture either. Temporarily setting aside her bitter past, a girlish expression finally appeared on her face. “This is my first time seeing something like this. That red rooftop over there is so pretty. It even has murals.”

“Yeah, look there—pigeons!”

“Haha, they flew away.”

The carriage moved quite slowly, giving them plenty of time to gawk. Mu Qian Tan glanced twice and lost interest, relaxing into the soft seat to rest.

The journey had been exhausting. Pretending White Pupil was a spirit beast she had tamed rather than part of her body, plus enduring her most hated heavy snowfall—it did nothing for her mood. She had no desire to attend that banquet; she just wanted to go back and sleep soundly. But since she had not eaten yet, going for a meal first was fine.

She hugged her arms against the soft seat as the sounds around her ears gradually changed. Their exclamations shifted from Seton City to Radiant Palace amid the mountains. Even without opening her eyes, Mu Qian Tan had heard enough from them to picture the grand, majestic palace between the snow mountains—vast and imposing.

Music drifted over as the carriage stopped. They dismounted one by one. This was a hall with an extremely high domed ceiling, thick pillars each coiled with a white serpent flicking its tongue, and the floor laid with gorgeous colored tiles. Fu Li had already led others to the banquet hall, while several black-haired women resembling servants bowed respectfully and escorted Mu Qian Tan’s group there as well.

Shang Shan was curious about everything, wishing she could sprout eight pairs of eyes to take it all in. When led into the lavish semi-open-air banquet hall, her mouth hung wide open. Mu Qian Tan felt a twinge of embarrassment. “No need for this, really.”

“This, this, this…” Shang Shan pointed wildly. “It’s so beautiful here.”

The banquet hall was semicircular with tiered steps, likely carved directly from the mountainside and carpeted with soft beast pelts. At the front, on a raised platform, sat several large tables of rare delicacies on gold and silver platters, dazzling to behold.

Following the black-haired women to their seats, they sat as Fu Li watched from the seat of honor. Once everyone was settled, she waved her hand. Musicians on one side shifted to a rousing style. A troupe of jewel-bedecked, breathtakingly handsome men entered clapping from the doorway and began dancing on the beast pelts below—swaying hips, flinging arms, eyes flowing with allure. Any one of them could ravage a region.

Mu Qian Tan could not bear to watch. She lifted her wine glass and glanced at Jiang Zhouyao nearby. The woman smiled as usual, though her face seemed a bit pale. It was unclear if she had come to enjoy the banquet or endure torment.

Fu Li had no class at all. To please someone, she just dumped out everything she thought was good, clueless about catering to tastes.

With Feng Ling Immortal’s serene personality of tending flowers and plants up in the mountains, what interest could she have in this indulgent style of gourmet food, beauties, and scenery? She was probably overwhelmed to the point of soul-scattering.

Qin He sat primly behind the table, eating reservedly while occasionally glancing at her master, perfectly avoiding the lascivious dance below.

Shang Shan finished one helping, then another, then yet another. Women brought dishes in a stream; plates emptied and vanished before she knew it. Having eaten too much gold, she struggled to suppress the heat and nearly spat fire upon opening her mouth. To avoid hurting anyone, she scooted over with her mouth covered. “Master, popsicle.”

Mu Qian Tan glanced at her and casually made a popsicle to toss over. “Can you stop embarrassing us? It’s like you haven’t eaten in eight hundred years.”

Shang Shan bit down, suppressing the sparks rising in her throat. A lump bulged in her cheek as she rubbed her belly. “But I’ve been so hungry lately. I always feel like I can’t eat enough. Why? Am I growing?”

Mu Qian Tan said, “Stop growing your body. Grow some brains instead.”

The music suddenly ceased. Fu Li seemed to wave her hand again. The team of handsome men bowed and retreated, replaced by a team of beautiful women. Outside, it was still freezing cold, but they wore only thin gauze skirts as they danced gracefully in the hall. Their alluring figures were faintly visible, stirring the imagination.

Qin He buried her head even lower, vaguely wanting to leave. Shang Shan watched for a bit before asking, “Aren’t they cold?”

Mu Qian Tan hadn’t eaten much, but she was full enough. She was just about to grab the restless Qin He and get out of this damned place when she heard Shang Shan’s question. She replied casually, “How could they not be cold?”

Shang Shan thought the same. At that moment, she choked and urgently reached for water to wash it down. Lowering her head, she spotted the red liquid her master had sipped a few times and left unfinished. She picked it up and gulped it down, only to be choked by the spicy alcohol fumes and start coughing repeatedly.

The cup smashed onto the beast-skin rug. She clutched the table, her head spinning as she said, “Wait, is this wine?”