Divine Flame Crystal

Chapter 642 Pain and Fun

As Reinhard demonstrated, he split the wooden stake and the earthen wall behind it. Two townspeople watching on the other side of the wall were so frightened that they dropped their pancakes, which landed on the fire and were re-toasted. Ilio smelled the fragrance and looked at her with an impure look. Celine held his head and twisted him back into the formation: "You can eat energy, but not people."

The Huisi produced three lines: the salt line, the noodle line, and the lamp line. Salt was exchanged from the northern mountains, noodles were collected from the villages along the riverbank, and lamp wicks were cut from the reed ponds by the river. Each line was escorted by two squads, one singing the threshold song and the other the return song. This wasn't done to show off, but to prevent unrest—the singing rallied the troops, keeping them from losing their composure even when encountering bandits.

Ash road signs were set up along the road, and every three miles a small brass lamp was lit. During the day, it was covered with a black pot, and at night, the pot was opened to light the fire. Anyone who pulled out a lamp was punished by carrying the pot for three days, and whoever added too much oil received an extra ladle of porridge. The children spontaneously performed little tricks: nodding to the lamps as they passed, mumbling "thank you for your hard work." The adults laughed at their foolishness, but the next day they imitated the lanterns.

Each beat leader was given a copy of Valerian's "Pain and Composition." Every afternoon, they practiced fake pain: no real cutting, no real branding, just healing old injuries, practicing keeping time in the midst of pain. Someone questioned, "What kind of practice is that?" Valerian raised his head and said, "When the real pain comes, at least you'll know where to put it." He added, "Singing isn't about sounding good, it's about surviving."

A bandit sneaked in at night, sneaking in along the rooftops. Carlon's wooden leg heard it first: three "thump, thump, thump," echoing through the white stones beneath the eaves. The bandit, treading on his own echo, missed a step and fell halfway into the water tank, where Ilio's cloak caught him. Celine said calmly, "He's alive." The next morning, a new stake was erected at the town entrance, and the bandit leader was hanged on it, with a line of words written below: "Death is not a pity."

Another time, three earth lizards darted out from a barren slope, just as a team, having received a salt line, was returning. The captain sang the "Threshold Song" to calm their panicked breathing. The team retreated a half step, then, taking advantage of the echo, stepped forward. The flash of a knife passed along the ground, severing the three lizards' bodies without spilling a single grain of salt. The old man at the salt well glared, "What the hell are you singing?" The captain laughed, "It's about keeping things simple."

Military discipline was strict, but not always cold. Mara erected a small blackboard in the corner of the square, on which were written "Wishes and Sins." Each person was allowed to write a line each week: wishes on the left, sins on the right. Someone wrote: "Wish: 'The new wheat at home won't fall'"; sin: "Stolen a couple of dry biscuits." Celine examined it for a moment, then added a note in chalk: "Next time you steal something, remember to report it." The whole crowd burst into laughter, and afterward, the person who stole something voluntarily went to the warehouse the next day and carried two extra bags of grain. That evening, they added a "Return to Camp Song."

Ilio was sometimes quick-witted, giving nicknames to the drills in the manual: "Well Step" was "Spring Kick," "Ashfire Slash" was "Lighter." Cyrus heard this and, while making him walk around the town twice, laughed, "Go ahead. The smoother it sounds, the faster it sticks in your head." Ilio returned from the circle, panting. Mara offered him water and said, "Next time, try to do three."

After seven days, Varn no longer looked like a ball of ash blown away by the wind, but like a piece of iron polished by water and fire.

People walking on the street during the day have rhythmic steps; the small lights lit in the houses at night have harmonious shadows.

The young men's backs looked like taut bows, the women's hands were covered with strong calluses, and even the fish drying by the well were arranged in neat rows.

Cyrus rolled up the old flag and replaced it with a new one, gray and white with gold thread. The gold thread was dull, gleaming only faintly when the wind picked up and the song began. He planted the flagpole next to the wooden sign at the town entrance that read "Keeper" and said simply, "From this day forward, we are no longer 'those blown by the wind,' we are those who can make the wind go around us."

He hadn't chosen a name for the team—naming is the beginning of pride, and pride is the gateway to defeat. Someone in the crowd murmured, "Let's call them Ashes or something." Ilio was about to agree when Celine's gaze pushed him back to his seat. Carlon coughed, "Mind your shots."

On the evening of the fifteenth day, a fine dust rose from the path at the west entrance. A team of scout knights, clad in blue and silver armor, slowly emerged. Their armor matched that of the Starfall Alliance. The leading young knight, a white feather draped on his saddle, gazed with astonishment at the orderly formation and uniform cloaks, muttering, "You... don't look like deserters."

Cyrus walked down the steps, without drawing his sword. He placed his hand on the stigmata on his chest, maintaining his courtesy and speaking in a calm voice: "This town belongs to us."

The young knight raised an eyebrow: "Can you hold it?"

Carlon's wooden leg clicked, and the troops behind him, like a wall, dropped their shoulders in unison and began to sing in unison—not a high-pitched war song, but simply the basic tune of the four-line homecoming song, calm, steady, and patient, like a well that has been carefully tended. The wind blowing through the streets seemed to be mellowed by the orderly march of the troops and the singing.

Cyrus said, "You can give it a try."

The young knight didn't draw his sword. He looked at the new flag, not very shiny but steady in the wind, at the white stone on the street corner and the gray emblem on the wall. For some reason, a vague hesitation welled up in his heart—they were indeed not a defeated army. He reined in his horse and whispered, "I will return to report."

After the scouts vanished into the dust, Cyrus glanced at the Varn sky. The sunset glow, rubbed iron-red by the gray mist, wasn't pretty, but it gave a sense of peace. He turned and gave a single order: "Practice some more 'dark shots' tonight. Tomorrow, build the outer trenches."

The street lights flickered on one by one. Ilio lit the wick in his cloak sleeve, the tiny flame on his shoulder standing at attention. He winked at Caron and said, "Captain, you said 'it's nice to bend the wind.'"

Carlon shrugged. "It doesn't matter if it sounds nice."

Celine put away the broken blade and put it on her back. "Also, if anyone takes a picture of me, I'll confiscate your lighter."

Although the lighter was proposed by Xingluo, it has long been widely circulated throughout the continent.

Ilio responded in unison, but there was a smile in his voice: he had learned to keep the beat with a smile.

The town of Varn breathed deeply into the night. Every breath, every exhale, merged with another chest. Iron was shaped between fire and water, and songs took their place between pain and silence. A team no longer relied solely on burning for warmth—they learned to transform fire into a furnace, and the furnace into order. The next time the wind came, they would not be blown away.

"From this day forward," he said, his ivory staff folded across his arm, his voice calm but undeniable, "you will no longer call yourselves the Remnants. You will be known by your names as fire and ash, your blades by song and rhythm—the Knights of the Bright Embers."

"That's a long name," Ilio muttered, but Celine glared back at him. Carlon tapped his wooden leg, a gesture of approval: laugh in your heart, but remember to keep the beat.

The new flag was hoisted. Its ground was gray and white, with only two strands of gold thread: one slanting across the upper left corner, like a cloak gathered in the wind; the other, curling from the base of the pole in a small loop, represented an echo well. The flag shone without glittering. Only when the song began and the wind picked up did the two golden threads seem to be gently lifted.

Valerian raised the empty chalice. "When external favors fail, the inner fire will shine. Your fame today is not for your enemies, but for your hearts. You are not waiting for the light to shine, you must become the light."

Cyrus knelt on one knee, the stigmata on his chest gleaming faintly. Reinhard, Celine, Mara, Caron, and Ilio knelt one after another; the grotto's firelight seemed to be more firmly muffled by the circle of knees. Without needing any instruction, the chorus naturally lifted the four verses of the "Homecoming Song," as if to seal a new name.

"Up," Valerian uttered a single word. "Raise the flag."

As the flag unfurled, wind poured in from the hole, and it was rounded by the steady beats of the wind. Ilio couldn't help but give the flag a nickname in his mind: "Not too bright, but very stable." Cyrus's ears twitched, as if he heard something. He didn't say anything, but the corners of his mouth curled up a little.

From then on, a new line was added next to the words "Guard the Shoot" under the wooden sign at the entrance to Varn: "Name: Knight of the Bright Embers." Someone asked, "Why write the name next to 'Guard the Shoot'?" Carlon replied, "I was worried you'd only remember the name and forget about the shoot. So I'm tying together what I fear most."

The first battle took place at the "Zheliu Ferry" on the north bank. It was a winding, shallow ford where the Starfall Alliance had built a light bridge and arrow towers to facilitate transportation between the two areas. If the Embers Knights wanted to launch their first counterattack, they had to seize this ferry.

As night fell, the wind rustled through the reeds. Mara, Hubert, and the craftsmen had already dug three shallow wells the night before. The wells were not deep, just above the knee, their walls inlaid with polished white stone, and the bottoms were covered with a thin layer of wick fiber—to remind them to "remember the beat."