Tyvan made a few more phone calls before leaving.
He informed Rook of the operation-- and that he was to remain on stand-by. The yellow-maned twit did not take kindly to the notion, claiming to be fit enough for active duty. Still, he was in his convalescence period, so Tyvan remained adamant.
He called Scarlet to confirm her assistance-- then hung up before she could pester him about other matters.
And for his final call, he dialed the number for the National Weather Service to hear the prerecorded weather forecast. Truly, that Merlin was superior in all regards to the other one. He didn’t even have to pay them.
Briar Rose and Bishop were to accompany him to the venue. The former made vocal her concern for his safety. She also made a few unsavoury criticisms of Scarlet, (not that any were relevant.)
As the case with Rook, Tyvan hoped he needn’t field any of his own forces. And as professional as the Latorre’s were, it was best that neither interact with any members of ❴Eminence❵, if at all possible.
And thus, at 18:00 hours, he and the Latorre siblings left Elysian Heights.
...then, after a lovely dinner, Briar Rose dropped him off in front of the Song Estate.
Tyvan acknowledged the guards. Judging by their Western attire and the shape and quality of their mana, they were outsourced from elsewhere. They allowed him onto the estate grounds without challenge.
Only after did he realize the peculiarity of the fact. He had a sword hanging from his belt, tied by a leather cord in the style he was accustomed to. In contemporary times, that usually merited some degree of challenge.
Well over a hundred persons had gathered to watch an event held in the Song Estate’s courtyard. A tile arena had been set up at its centre, empty of participants. However, a few telling cracks and splotches of blood suggested he’d missed at least one.
Tyvan scanned the crowd... and he spotted the vibrant, purple hanfu robes of a personage of whom he was acquainted. That person, too, noticed his attention, as they stood up from their seat, waddling over with quick steps.
“Tyvan-san~!” he said, “Come to join the festivities, darling?”
“Buonasera, signora,” Tyvan said in greeting. “You look lovely tonight.”
It was not a lie. Lovely was subjective. Still, the silk robes worn by Mister Plum-- or Li Yin by his Chinese name, were handsome and exquisite.
It did look too tight, though-- as if he bound his waist beforehand. And, though Tyvan did not understand why, but the robes also made Plum’s normally broad shoulders look slim and almost petite.
He gave the bald and clean-shaven older gentleman air-kisses to either side of his cheeks, as was traditional in northern Italy. Plum had spent many years honing his craft in Milan, so he’d always been fond of the affectation.
“You’re such a charmer, Signor Valorum,” Plum smiled, “Oh! And do say hi to Ivy for me. Her new clothing line is such an inspiration-- I bet her peers are all going mad with envy.”
Tyvan smiled politely. Mister Plum was the primary tailor for ❴The Kingdom❵’s professional attire. The higher the quality of craftsmanship and materials used, the more conducive the clothing to magical enchantment.
In the distant past, it was only feasible for him to enchant suits of armor, often with precious metals or powdered gemstones lining the insides. But after reincarnating, he was fortunate enough to work with master weavers like Plum and Ivalice on a regular basis.
“I hope you don’t think I usually go to these things,” Plum said with mock-suspicion, “It’s so hard to see young people squabbling over the littlest things.”
“Speaking of,” Tyvan said, “how has the squabbling gone thus far?”
“It appears that the Zhang family has been training little monsters,” Plum said mysteriously. “The Songs have lost two of their five matches~”
Tyvan nodded gravely, “Uncommon strength? Unnatural musculature?”
“Ohh~” Plum swooned, “Essere in gamba, signore.”
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“Grazie,” Tyvan smirked, “May I assume the public has their suspicions?”
A knowing smile crossed Plum’s lips.
“And may I assume you’re here on business?”
----------------------------------------
Yan Xue sat quietly in the seat next to her grandfather, absorbing all the awkward silence that reigned in the Song family booth.
Grandpa Wei was tapping his leg so much that he dented the grass and dirt beneath his foot.
In the first two matches, his two strongest disciples had been soundly defeated. Sensing their impending involvement, two of his sons ran away, so Grandpa angrily kicked out everyone related to them.
That left... only a handful of inner sect martial seniors.
Somber looks and glassy eyes...
They sunk down in their chairs, already convinced of their defeat.
One older guy was reciting a mantra, praying to the heavens.
Another sat crouched over, with his head between his knees, staring at the floor.
Shay understood their reluctance. Before the fighters of the Zhang family started their matches, they took their burst pills, hidden away from the crowd, but in plain sight of the Song family booth.
And then, their bodies transformed... to the point where they almost didn’t look Chinese anymore. Their bodies inflated and they seemed to grow taller. They took off their shirts, showing off their bloated, balloon-like muscles. And they still somehow moved so fast, her eyes could barely follow.
If she didn’t know the reason, Shay would have assumed they ate nothing but chicken breast, steel bars, and unattended children. But since it was obvious they were using drugs, they just looked like roided up bullies.
That wasn’t even the worst part about fighting the Zhang guys, though. During the first two matches, Shay’s Senior Brothers got slower and weaker as they fought. By the end of either match, their cheekbones stuck out and it looked like they’d aged a hundred years.
The crowd was thick with the murmurs of ‘dark magic’ in both English and Mandarin.
The Zhang family’s Chi Burst Pill was even more dangerous than she thought...
James. Someone from the Zhang family had killed James.
Then, the ‘incident’ Grandpa said happened at school... was that her teacher, Miss Ansari, went out the same way.
Andy.
Andy, the youngest son of the Zhang family. He must have been the murderer.
But why? That didn’t make any sense... but the facts were as plain as day.
Shay wanted the Song family to win. She really wanted them to win.
Murderers needed to get what they deserved.
But just--
The biggest problem, then... was that everyone in the Song family booth looked like they’d given up.
“Grandpa,” Shay said in a small voice, “what’s the worst that could happen if we lose?”
Wei gripped the arms of his chair so hard that the wood burst into splinters.
“N-nothing tOo baD, Xiaoxue,” he said in a gruff voice, “they’ll just... take the signboard of our sect-- the one that’s been passed down for over 3000 years... and they’ll probably shit on it.
That... sounded pretty bad. But... maybe they could still recover from something like that?
Grandpa wasn’t done, though.
“The Zhang family could also ask us to cease operations within their business sector,” he said. “The family business will survive... but, certain things will have to change.”
He sighed and shook his head, “Things would have to change regardless. I had six sons, Xiaoxue. How many are left?”
Shay looked around. “We still have Senior Uncle Pingping.”
“Your uncle, Pingping, was adopted,” Wei said coldly.
The praying Senior Brother snapped out of his trance, “I was what?”
“Damn it,” Wei said, groaning heavily.
Shay took a deep breath. She had a trick she was planning to use. She was hoping to use it during the fourth or fifth match, but they were about to lose their chance at those.
She looked up at Grandpa Wei, instilling as much strength and courage as she could into her voice. And she said, “Grandpa... let me fight.”
The entire booth looked over her like she was crazy-- which was the point.
Grandpa Wei... he began to laugh. He guffawed. He slapped his thighs and laughed so hard, big, manly tears dripped down his face.
The crowd was looking over. And even the Zhangs looked over, frowning in disgust before looking away, pretending to look disinterested.
“Listen to this, Junior Brothers,” Wei said. “Our youngest daughter is not even 20 years old and she’s willing to fight and DIE for our family. What has become of us? Since when was the Song family content to bemoan our fates like starving dogs!”
Shay blinked several times, pursing her lips. She didn’t actually want to die. The first two Senior Brothers-- they... they were going to be okay, weren’t they?