Chapter Six: The Master of Fire
"The singing streamer you follow, Little Beauty Zhou Zhou, is now live!"
While eating, Shen An opened the livestream and began to watch.
On the screen appeared a young woman of striking innocence, her long hair braided, sitting on a chair and singing familiar songs into the microphone.
Her voice was enchanting—clear as a lark’s, soothing and pleasing to the ear.
“Wow, I’m in love—this voice is amazing!”
“Good morning, Zhou Zhou! Have you eaten? Starting the stream so early today, you’re so dedicated.”
“Move aside! Zhou Zhou is mine, no one else fight me for her.”
The screen was flooded with a barrage of scrolling comments.
Clearly, Little Beauty Zhou Zhou’s singing was highly popular, drawing in a vast audience.
With a lovely voice, innocent good looks, and a figure that was truly exceptional, there was little not to adore.
In no time, the number of viewers kept climbing.
Shen An liked her as well, but limited funds meant he could only spare a few small tips, so his name was nowhere to be found on the fan rankings.
He watched as the viewer count rose from three hundred thousand to four hundred thousand.
Suddenly, a few promotional messages began popping up in the comments.
“Everyone, come with me to room 564241—someone is performing fire-breathing there, looks just like the real thing.”
“Everyone, come with me to room 564241—someone is performing fire-breathing there, looks just like the real thing.”
Several of these messages appeared in succession, only to be swiftly muted by the chat moderators.
Such advertising was taboo in the streaming world—it was blatant poaching, no different from posting rival group links in chat, a universally despised act.
Shen An didn’t pay much attention.
He was there for Zhou Zhou herself and her music. The comments were amusing at times but not essential—he rarely posted, preferring to watch quietly.
“Thank you, everyone. Next, I’ll sing ‘Spring’s Gentle Rain’ for you.”
Having finished a song, Zhou Zhou took a sip of water and announced sweetly.
Watching her on the screen, Shen An barely touched his food; his bowl was already empty.
“In the spring, a gentle rain falls...”
As the accompaniment played, Zhou Zhou’s singing began again. Instantly, the comments were filled with hearts, and Shen An joined in, sending a cascade of heart emojis.
But then—
Gradually—
The flood of comments began to dwindle.
The screen started to fill with those same promotional messages as before.
“Everyone, come with me to room 564241—someone is performing fire-breathing there, looks just like the real thing.”
“...”
Not just one, but a whole sequence.
The moderators were frantic, muting users nonstop, but it was hopeless.
The advertising messages swarmed the chat like locusts, overwhelming everything.
Then, to Shen An’s shock, even the moderators began posting ads.
On screen, Zhou Zhou’s face grew pale, but she persisted and finished her song.
Seeing her like this, Shen An felt a pang of sympathy.
He knew, of course, that their lives would never truly intersect, but in the streaming world, such a pure-hearted girl was a rarity.
“All right, it looks like everyone wants to see the fire-breathing, so...”
Zhou Zhou pulled herself together and said, “I’ll go take a look as well.”
With that, she opened a few windows on her stream, and soon, footage of a fire-breathing act appeared.
It showed a young man, about twenty, performing the feat.
Yet, he didn’t appear to be using any alcohol or props.
Shen An’s expression grew grave as he watched.
Others might not realize, but after what he’d experienced the previous night, Shen An suspected—
This man was likely someone who had awakened an ability.
Fire-breathing?
He frowned.
Just then, the fire-breather’s stream abruptly went black, and a message appeared: the stream had been closed.
No warning at all.
The man had been in the middle of his act, alone, with his phone set aside.
A power cut?
Banned?
Or something else?
Shen An quickly paid his bill and left the restaurant.
Now, he realized, it wasn’t just him with strange new powers—others might have them as well.
His mind churned with thoughts.
A distant commotion caught his ear.
Shen An glanced up.
He saw a fire truck racing by, siren blaring.
Following its path, he saw that, not far away, a house was ablaze.
The fire truck stopped, and several firefighters leaped into action, battling the flames.
Shen An’s gaze fixed on the burning building.
His eyesight was now keener than most, his hearing sharper—he could catch sounds from far away.
A flicker of movement—
He saw a few figures darting out from the flames, vanishing in a blink.
“Something’s wrong.”
“It must be the fire-breather—something happened to him.”
Breaking away from the crowd, Shen An listened intently to the sounds around him and headed in the direction he judged best.
His intuition led him to the edge of a derelict, half-finished building.
It looked old and abandoned, construction left incomplete; supposedly, no one should be inside.
Yet Shen An sensed unusual presences within.
Among them, an aura—oxygen-rich.
He was certain: whoever was inside, they were not ordinary.
Carefully, he advanced, noting scorch marks on the ground and blackened walls.
“The fire-breather?”
Shen An halted, peering into the darkness.
It seemed empty, nothing in sight.
He moved forward slowly.
Hiss!
A step—and suddenly, a burst of flame flared from the side.
Shen An’s face changed; he quickly dodged.
In the light, he saw a young man, his expression contorted with pain, one hand clearly crippled, the other pressed to a wound, glaring warily at Shen An.
“Are you here to catch me? I’m telling you now, I’m not going back with you.”
He coughed several times, clearly badly injured.
Shen An sized him up—the man’s eyebrows were distinctive, thick and straight, his breath rough, each exhale radiating scorching heat.
“You’ve got the wrong idea. I’m not here to catch you. I was just curious—was that you in the livestream? And you mentioned someone after you—who?”
Shen An’s tone was sincere.
“You’re not with them?”
The man hesitated, questioning in return.
Su Yuan was surprised.
So who was this man, then?
He didn’t seem ordinary either. Could he, too, have changed after last night’s upheaval?
Su Yuan pondered, then asked, “About last night’s earthquake...”