The morning sun rose over Taichu Sanctuary City, painting the white marble streets in warm amber light.
A sea of people filled the grand avenue. Thousands of common folk, farmers, and rogue cultivators stood along the roadway, throwing fresh peony petals into the air.
“Look! It’s the Little Lotus Pill Saint!” a street vendor shouted, lifting his young daughter high.
“Bless you, little fairy!” an elderly herbalist called out, bowing toward the moving procession. “My grandson’s cracked core was healed by your one-stone elixir!”
In the middle of the avenue, six-year-old Little Guo’er sat comfortably on Tie Niu’s broad shoulders. Her small legs swung back and forth against the giant guard’s chest plate. She wore a bright crimson smock, happily munching on a skewer of candied hawthorns.
“Uncle Tie Niu, the people are very loud today,” Little Guo’er said around a mouthful of crunchy sugar glaze. “Are they having a party?”
“They are cheering for you, Little Saint,” Tie Niu rumbled with a wide grin. His massive war hammer shone brightly in the sunlight. “You beat that greasy old quack Dan Chen yesterday. You gave thirty-six pill shops back to the people.”
“I only tapped the big bronze pot with my soup ladle,” Little Guo’er muttered innocently. “The pot did all the cooking.”
