NABC 031 Street Kid
031 Street Kid
031 Street Kid
The festival was in full swing, and for once, I wasn’t thinking about schemes, cultivation realms, or potentially impending deaths. Just three kids wandering around, enjoying the night in their own ways.
Fan Shi had bought some kind of grasshopper-looking thing skewered on a stick. The kind of street food you’d never see me eating. She chewed on it, entirely unbothered, while I tried my best not to look disgusted.
Jia Yun, on the other hand, looked like a picture-perfect demure little lady as she nibbled on a stick of dango, her small hands delicately holding it like a noble sipping tea. If I ignored the fact that she was a murderous fox cultivator, she looked almost... normal.
Meanwhile, I was busy dominating an arcade game.
The objective was simple—throw a ring and land it on a beam. Do it three times, and you win a prize. It was the type of game meant to be rigged, but I refused to rely on my stats. No superhuman precision, no enhanced perception. Just good old-fashioned skill—or in my case, luck.
I tossed my final ring with my eyes closed for extra flair.
A satisfying clink rang out.
“Yes!” I grinned as I opened my eyes, victorious.
Fan Shi and Jia Yun, standing at my sides, looked entirely unimpressed.
The stall owner, an old man with a kind smile, clapped his hands together. “You did great, young master! For that, you win a prize! What does the young master want?”
I pointed at the goldfish mask hanging at the side of the stall. “That one.”
Masks were a common sight at the festival. Some were elaborate, depicting fierce beasts or celestial beings. Others were simple, meant more for fun than for tradition. Mine was somewhere in between—a goldfish mask with a smooth, lacquered surface and a slightly comical expression.
I wore it proudly, adjusting the fit so that the eye holes lined up perfectly.
“How do I look?” I asked, striking a pose.
Jia Yun regarded me with the same neutral expression she always had. “Jia Yun thinks you look fine, young master.”
Fan Shi tilted her head, scrutinizing me for a moment before saying, “...It looks okay.”
I squinted at her. “Fan Shi, I sense doubt in your words.”
She gave a small shrug and said nothing more, returning her attention to her snack.
Meanwhile, Jia Yun had already walked up to the stall. Without hesitation, she placed a full payment on the counter. “I want the fox mask.”
The elderly stall owner, pleased by the straightforward request, handed her a red-and-white fox mask with delicate gold detailing. Unlike me, she didn’t put it on properly. Instead, she slid it onto her head like a headband, letting it rest above her forehead. It suited her more than I cared to admit.
Fan Shi, finishing the last bite of her grasshopper skewer, walked over to another stall and bought another one without a word.
They were... quite reserved.
I wasn’t exactly a party maker, but it shouldn’t be this hard, right?
I looked to my left—Jia Yun was quietly nibbling on her dango, her fox mask perched neatly atop her head. I looked to my right—Fan Shi was taking precise, measured bites from yet another grasshopper skewer. Neither had spoken to the other since we arrived.
They weren’t just ignoring each other. They were ignoring each other hard.
Meh. At least I was enjoying myself.
I wandered from stall to stall, taking in the sights, sounds, and scents of the festival. The air smelled of sizzling meat, sweet pastries, and the occasional puff of incense. Lanterns of all colors glowed above the crowds, casting a warm, dreamlike haze over the streets.
At one stand, a vendor demonstrated how to carve miniature sculptures out of sugar, his hands moving with practiced ease. At another, a fortune teller was dramatically waving her hands over a glowing crystal ball, whispering ominous predictions to a captivated audience.
I took another turn and spotted an arm-wrestling contest. A burly man was crushing challengers left and right, laughing heartily as he slammed his arms onto the table. I briefly considered giving it a try, but my somewhat righteous reputation was already weird enough without me absolutely humiliating a street performer.
Instead, I focused on the real reason I was here—having fun my way.
I tossed rings at another game stall, skillfully landing them on the prize beams. I flipped a coin into a lucky well, making a wish I immediately forgot. I challenged myself to balance on one foot for as long as possible while waiting in line for fried dumplings.
Yeah. This was nice.
And then, suddenly, a kid bumped into Jia Yun.
The moment happened fast—a small figure collided into her side, and before anyone could react, the kid was already twisting away, ready to run.
But Fan Shi was faster.
With a swift, precise movement, she extended her foot and tripped the kid before they could escape.
I sighed.
The kid tumbled forward, landing with a surprised oof! before scrambling to sit up. A tiny, dirty hand clutched something close to their chest.
Fan Shi stared down with cold, unyielding eyes. “Stealing is wrong.”
Jia Yun adjusted her sleeves, her tone calm but firm. “Give it back.”
The kid looked rugged—messy dark brown hair tangled in knots, dirt smudged across sun-kissed skin, and clothes made of rough linen that had clearly seen better days. Despite the rags, there was a sharpness in his eyes, an untamed wariness that reminded me of a stray cat.
He was around our age... or at least around our chibi age.
The kid gritted their teeth, clutching something close to their chest. “Over my dead body.”
And then, like a cornered animal, the kid tried to bolt.
Jia Yun moved before I could even think to stop her.
I exhaled.
I hadn’t always seen myself as a hero. Well... outside of playing a Paladin in games. But in my past life, I’d been a teacher. A fairly mundane existence, far removed from grand adventures and high-stakes moral dilemmas.
And yet, seeing something like this—seeing what I knew was coming—made my stomach twist.
I’d hate whatever was waiting for me inside.
And sheesh, I was starting to hate tropes.
Without a word, I jumped to the rooftops. Fan Shi and Jia Yun followed without hesitation, landing beside me with practiced grace.
I turned to them. “Stay here. I’ll go alone.”
The tent was fairly large, its weathered fabric stretching across the back alley like a temporary stronghold. The festival’s warm glow barely reached this part of the city, making the area feel detached from the lively streets just beyond.
Two men sat by the entrance, engaged in a game of checkers. They were guards, without a doubt. Their posture was too rigid, their eyes flicking toward any movement in the alley. They wore mismatched armor, a common sight among mercenaries or hired muscle. One of them, a stocky man with a thick beard, was losing the game. He scowled at the board, moving his pieces with frustration. His opponent, a leaner man with sharp features, smirked as he made his move.
I opened Voice Chat, addressing David_69 who was my self-proclaimed holy spirit.
“I am going to use Divine Possession to infiltrate and learn what business these people have in Yellow Dragon City. If they are of ill intent, I will deal with them. If a fight occurs, call in the other two. The main priority is to minimize the damage as much as possible.”
“Copy that,” answered David_69.
I needed to set up an appointment with this little guy sometime soon.
I exhaled and focused on the stocky man, the one currently losing at checkers. He looked relatively healthy, albeit troubled, which made him a suitable vessel. With a thought, I activated my only remaining spell slot.
"Divine Possession."
A familiar pulling sensation gripped me as my consciousness detached from my body and surged into the guard. The world blurred for a moment before snapping into clarity through new eyes. I felt the weight of his thick arms, the lingering tension in his shoulders, the heat of frustration from the game.
Time to see whether I was being paranoid
...or I was about to find a righteous cause in my lap.
Divine Possession was a weird spell. I shared control with the possessed, but in some cases, my stats alone could completely overtake them. It had happened with Pan Xia before, and it was happening again now. The guy I took over had no resistance. Normally, the original consciousness would at least struggle to express itself, but this time? Silence.
Complete possession.
I had to be careful with that.
I continued playing checkers, acting as naturally as possible. The fellow guard across from me seemed relaxed, focused on the board instead of questioning why his partner was suddenly winning more games than usual.
“So, what’s boss been doing?” I asked casually, placing a piece down with what I hoped was the same level of familiarity the original guy would have.
It was a bluff. Maybe they didn’t even have a boss.
The other guard snorted. “Probably scheming how to appeal to the City Lord’s empathy to allow us a chance to prove ourselves... and maybe give us citizenship to this city... you know, the usual?” He moved his piece with a resigned sigh. “That was... begging... but this time, we’ll be begging to the City Lord.”
I paused mid-move.
Okay. Maybe I had assumed they were bad people a little too quickly.
I was ashamed to claim I always tried to see the good in people, but in reality, I was just as susceptible to knee-jerk reactions as anyone else. Maybe it was the Xianxia setting. The cultivation world had turned me paranoid, always expecting the worst.
But if they were here to plead for a place in Yellow Dragon City rather than run some criminal enterprise, then this was a different kind of story entirely.
I kept playing checkers, using casual conversation to dig for information. My opponent never suspected a thing, answering naturally.
“So, how long have we been here?” I asked, feigning curiosity while setting up a double-jump.
“Few days. We came in when the festival gates opened,” the guard answered, scratching his head before making a move. “What the hell kind of question is that? Are you drunk?”
I ignored his question and asked instead. “And we’re really hoping for citizenship?”
“Yeah. Boss says we just need a chance. If we can prove we’re useful, maybe they’ll let us stay.”
I subtly activated Divine Sense, scanning him for any trace of deception. Nothing. Not even a flicker of hesitation in his words. He truly believed in what he was saying.
Huh. That was unexpected.
I opened Voice Chat and addressed David_69. “Show Jia Yun and Fan Shi a good time while I get the full story out of this.”
“Copy that,” came the reply.
Satisfied, I ended the game—winning, of course—and stood up, stretching. “Well, time to go in.”
The other guard looked at me. “Boss is inside. Don’t do anything stupid.”
I entered the tent.
The place was larger than I expected, and packed. Men, women, and a surprising number of children huddled together, eating simple meals. Some of them had the look of people who had seen better days—former artisans or laborers fallen on hard times—while others were clearly from the streets. The kids especially stood out, their clothes ragged, their faces smeared with dirt.
And at the center of it all stood the Boss.
She wore a blue mask, obscuring her features. Despite that, there was an undeniable presence about her, the kind that made people naturally listen. She was currently overseeing food distribution, ensuring that everyone got their share.
I stepped forward and grabbed a ladle, casually helping distribute food.
Okay? This wasn’t too bad...