At the sound of the knock, a smug smile curled at the edges of Akio's lips. "Ignore it, Mayor Flannigan. We haven't finished our...discussion," he drawled, his gaze not leaving the mayor. But even as he dismissed the interruption, Hiroshi's body tensed like a drawn bowstring, his eyes flickering to the door with an alertness that seemed out of place for the normally laid-back man. His hand subtly moved closer to the hilt of his weapon, his demeanour shifting from relaxed to rigid in a split second. "Akio," he said, his voice dropping to a low, urgent whisper.

'Quiet uncle, you are here to observe only.' Akio shot back.

The knocking came again, this time more insistent, more urgent. It was a sound that echoed ominously throughout the room, cutting through the tension like a well-aimed arrow. Akio's smile faltered a touch, though he quickly recovered, his expression hardening. "I said, ignore it," he repeated, his words curt and cold. But his attempt to maintain control of the situation seemed almost laughable now; the knocking was growing louder, more persistent, like a war drum heralding an impending battle. Flannigan, despite his rising anxiety, couldn't help but feel a sliver of amusement at Akio's discomfiture.

Hiroshi, however, was not laughing. His hand had now fully closed over the hilt of his weapon, his eyes locked on the door with the intensity of a hawk. His expression was grim, his knuckles white from the firm grip on his weapon. And all the while, the knocking continued, growing louder and louder, until it was all anyone could hear. The sound was like a heartbeat, steady and relentless, filling the room with a sense of impending doom.

Suddenly, the door creaked open and in strolled Joe. He was nonchalantly drinking a tall glass bottle of milk, completely oblivious to the tension in the room. "Huh, it was unlocked," he commented, looking genuinely surprised.

"Berty said you didn't want this milk, Flanno. Can you believe this?" Joe continued, holding up the milk bottle towards Flannigan, completely unaware of the electric tension in the room. As he spoke, he took another long sip of the milk, his eyes sparkling with delight. "Berty had spares, how choice is that?" He exclaimed, his innocent enthusiasm only adding to the surreal nature of the scene.

There was a moment of stunned silence as everyone in the room digested the absurdity of the situation. Akio's hand twitched, the lightning around him fizzling out as he stared at Joe with wide-eyed disbelief. Hiroshi's grip on his weapon loosened, a look of sheer bafflement replacing the intense concentration on his face. And for a moment, in the midst of all the tension and fear, Flannigan couldn't help but let out a laugh. It was a genuine, hearty laugh that seemed to echo around the room, filling the space with a momentary respite from the palpable tension.

Akio turned his intense gaze from the door to Joe, eyes flickering as he took in the sight of the man guzzling milk with no regard for the tension that had consumed the room moments ago. "You show supreme disrespect, sir," he declared, his voice like cold steel.

Joe blinked, milk dribbling down his chin, and followed Akio's gaze to where a slice of cake lay on a nearby table. "Yeah, cripes, you're right," he exclaimed, setting his milk down to head towards the table, "There's bloody cake over there. Nothing goes with cake like milk." Ignoring the stunned silence that followed his declaration, Joe reached for the cake, his face lighting up in anticipation. Akio watched on, a crease forming between his brows, his mouth agape in disbelief at the audacity of the man.

'Anyway who are you blokes?' Joe asked.

Flanno, eyes wide with disbelief at Joe's nonchalance, managed to find his voice. "Joe, these are cultivators from the capital..." he trailed off, glancing nervously at Akio and Hiroshi.

Joe paused, the piece of cake halfway to his mouth. He blinked, glanced at the cultivators, then back at Flanno. "Ah, right. Cultivators," He shrugged and stuffed the cake into his mouth, "What like culturing cheese and yoghurt? I suppose they can have some of the milk if they needed it.'

Joe, oblivious to the tension in the room, stretched out his arm, offering the milk bottle to the cultivators. "Here you go, mates," he said with a wide grin, "best milk in town. Real cream on top." His grin slipped a little when he noticed Akio's icy stare, but he shrugged and shoved the bottle a little closer to the cultivators, "If you're into culturing cheese and yogurt, you're gonna need some good milk, ain't ya?"

The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

Akio's face darkened at Joe's words, the electricity in his palms crackling more violently. He glared at the milk bottle as though it was a personal affront, his anger palpable. "Do you take us for simple dairy farmers?" He spat out, his words laced with disdain. The room fell into a shocked silence, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife.

Joe blinked, a look of surprise crossing his face. "Sorry, I didn't mean to offend you," he said, holding his hands up in a placating gesture, "You blokes must be the other kind of cultivators." The room held its breath, waiting for Akio's reaction. To everyone's surprise, Akio seemed momentarily appeased, the electricity in his hands dying down to a faint hum. Joe, seemingly encouraged by this, continued, "You know, Kombucha brewers. Never went for it myself but horses for courses and all that." His words hung in the air, a blatant declaration of ignorance that yet held a hint of respect for their profession. The tension in the room eased slightly, and for the first time since they had arrived, Akio and Hiroshi looked less like threats and more like visitors in a strange land.

"Anyway, I just wanted to come see you because you smelled like coffee," Joe said, scratching his head with a bemused expression. "You got any coffee? I'm fresh out." His eyes were hopeful as he looked around the room, clearly expecting to find a pot of coffee brewing somewhere.

Akio sniffed, a look of disdain crossing his face. "We don't carry this... 'coffee'," he said, the word sounding foreign and distasteful on his lips. "We do have mortal and medium grade cultivation elixirs," he continued, clearly proud of the offerings, "but they are not for peasants." His icy gaze landed on Joe, a clear challenge in his eyes.

Joe blinked, taken aback by Akio's harsh words. He opened his mouth to reply, but for a moment, he was too stunned to form words. He glanced around the room, his gaze landing on the cake, the milk, and finally on Flanno, whose eyes begged him to stop talking. His eyes widened and a slow grin spread across his face. "Well, ain't this a fine kettle of fish," he muttered to himself, clearly amused by the entire situation. 'I've made a big mess and embarrassed me old mate Flanno, best mayor in town.'

'Only mayor in town.' Akio said back.

Joe slapped a palm to his forehead, "Strewth! I didn't even ask your names!"

Flanno, looking as though he wished for the ground to swallow him, gestured toward the stern man with the electrified palms. "This here," he managed to croak out, "is Master Akio." He visibly winced at Joe's inevitable response.

His eyes flitted to Akio, "Aki-oh, right?" His tone was more of a question than an actual statement.

The cultivator's eyes narrowed, "Yes, Akio." His response was curt, his annoyance seeping through his carefully controlled demeanour.

Joe tilted his head to the side, considering the name. After a moment of silence, he shook his head and said, "Hmmm...nah, let's go with Azza." With that, he slapped Akio on the back, a wide grin on his face. In the stunned silence that followed, Joe finished off his milk.

With a satisfied sigh, Joe put down his empty milk bottle and dusted off the crumbs from his cake-laden fingers. Grinning, he turned to Flanno who was still recovering from the previous conversation. "Cheers for the grub, Flanno," he said heartily, clapping the mayor on the shoulder. The room stayed silent, everyone watching as Joe ambled over to the door. He paused, glancing back over his shoulder with a wave, "Catch ya later, Flanno...and you too, Azza." And with that, he stumbled out the door, leaving a stunned silence in his wake.

As Joe's laughter faded into the distance, Akio was left standing in stunned silence, the insult still stinging. His fingers twitched, the air around them crackling with electricity. Hiroshi, ever the voice of reason, stepped in before things could escalate. He placed a calming hand on Akio's shoulder, his gaze steady and his voice firm. "Akio," he said, a hint of warning in his tone, "The man is clearly a bumpkin. Your father has eyes everywhere. This is beneath you." His words seemed to resonate around the room, underlining the absurdity of the situation and the futility of a petty outburst.

Akio spat on the floor dismissively, the sound echoing ominously in the now silent room. "This town is clearly full of bumpkins, couldn't grow a cultivation elixir if their inbred cousin fell over one," he sneered, disgust plain in his voice. He turned to Hiroshi, his face set in a grim line. "As if we'd find cultivators here," he scoffed, disdain dripping from every word. He heaved a dramatic sigh, his gaze settling on his companion. "Come, Hiroshi," he commanded, his eyes hardened with determination, "I want to find a tavern." He stormed towards the door, his dramatic exit leaving the room in stunned silence once more.

Flanno watched in silence as the cultivators departed, his gaze fixed on their retreating figures. He reached for a fork, savouring the last delectable bite of the cake. A whirlwind of thoughts raced through his mind, questioning the events that had just unfolded. What on earth had transpired in that moment?

'The plant.' Flanno cursed.

They were after Gerald.