Scene: The Village Market

The morning market was loud with chatter—vendors calling out prices, children chasing each other through narrow paths, and the scent of roasted chestnuts lingering in the air. To a mortal eye, it was just another ordinary day.

But when Hua Zhen walked among them, the air shifted.

Dressed in simple black robes that could pass for a traveler’s attire, his golden eyes were veiled beneath long lashes, and his hair was tied back with a plain cord. Yet nothing about him was truly ordinary. His presence—sharp, commanding—was like a blade hidden in silk. Even the rowdy vendors lowered their voices when he passed, though they could not explain why.

He reached for a basket of pears at the stall. His fingers, pale and elegant, brushed lightly against the fruit. The vendor stammered, “Th-That’ll be three copper coins, sir.”

Before Hua Zhen could reply, a voice cut in—warm, lively, and distinctly mortal.

“You’re being overcharged,” you, shizhui, the villager, stepping closer. was carrying a bundle of firewood, his face flushed from work, sweat shining under the sun. “Those pears are last week’s stock. Sweet on the outside, sour inside. Not worth three coins.”

Hua Zhen turned his head slowly, his gaze landing on the mortal. For a heartbeat, the villager felt the weight of heaven itself pressing down on him, though he didn’t know why.

“Is that so?” Hua Zhen’s voice was low, smooth, each word measured with authority.

Shizhui, laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. “Trust me, I know pears. My family grows them. Here—” He picked up a smaller, greener one from the corner of the basket. “This one’s better. Crisp, sweet, won’t leave your mouth dry.”

For the first time, Hua Zhen’s expression shifted—barely, but enough. A hint of amusement touched his lips. He accepted the pear, weighing it in his hand like a soldier testing a blade.

“You seem certain,” Hua Zhen said.

“I live here. You don’t,” the shizhui replied, grinning. “Consider it free advice.”

Silence stretched between them, yet it wasn’t empty. The noise of the market seemed to fade, as if the world itself held its breath.

Hua Zhen studied the villager carefully, his golden eyes narrowing slightly. He had come to this place not for fruit, but to confirm the presence of a hidden spy among the villagers—an enemy of heaven in mortal skin. But now… he found himself oddly intrigued by this mortal who dared to speak so casually to him.

At last, Hua Zhen placed a single coin on the vendor’s table, ignoring the overcharge, and turned to leave. But before he did, he inclined his head slightly toward the mortal.

“Then… perhaps next time, you can guide me to the better pears,” he said softly, almost like a command disguised as a request.

And with that, the Heavenly General disappeared into the crowd—leaving the mortal staring after him, unaware that he had just crossed paths with a god in disguise.