The night air outside the food building was cool and fragrant, carrying the faint trace of spices and smoke from the kitchens within. Liergu stepped out first, his cloak catching the evening wind, followed by the shadowy figures of the assassination team. Their boots struck the cobblestones in rhythm as they entered the softly lit commercial street.

"My lord," Nijisha asked, her voice low and respectful, "what shall we do now?"

She tried to keep her tone steady, but her stomach betrayed her with a quiet growl. Watching others dine so lavishly inside that towering food hall had only made her hunger worse. The aroma still lingered in her mind, tormenting her senses.

Liergu's gaze swept over the street—rows of wooden stalls, flickering oil lamps, and a gentle hum of trade even this late at night. "We'll buy something to eat," he said. "Then we'll head back. I want to look through a few of these shops—see what kind of place this really is."

Nijisha's eyes brightened a little. "Yes, my lord."

Without much thought, Liergu pointed to a store ahead whose lantern burned brightest. "That one. Let's go."

They entered the small shop, squeezing past a few locals who turned curiously at the cloaked strangers. Inside, warmth pressed against their faces—the heat of a clay stove where golden-red embers glowed beneath a metal grate. The sweet, earthy scent of something roasting filled the air.

"Welcome, honored guests," the shopkeeper said, wiping his hands on a cloth and smiling. "Would you like to try roasted sweet potatoes?"

Liergu frowned slightly. "Roasted… sweet potatoes?" The words were strange on his tongue.

The shopkeeper gestured to a wooden barrel by the counter. "They're the roots of this vine here. See?"

Liergu studied the plant—slender stems, broad green leaves curling toward the light. "This leaf," he murmured. "It looks familiar. Almost like the one from the dish we saw in the food building."

"You've got a good eye, sir," the man replied quickly, recognizing the tone of someone important. "Indeed, the fried sweet potato leaves served there come from this very plant."

"Ah, I see." Liergu nodded, understanding dawning. He had been curious about the flavor since that meal. "And these roots—you roast them until they turn red?"

"Yes. When the skin turns red and the flesh softens, the sweetness comes out," the shopkeeper said eagerly. "You can get one roasted sweet potato for a beast spar—primary or middle grade. Would you like to try one? Ours are known for their soft, glutinous texture. Very sweet. I guarantee you'll like it."

Liergu reached into his pocket, fingers brushing against several beast spars—each of them higher grade than necessary. He had only brought intermediate and above. Before he could choose one, Nijisha stepped forward.

"My lord, allow me," she said quickly, taking the spar from his hand and placing it on the counter.

The man nodded gratefully and went to the stove. With a pair of iron tongs, he drew out a steaming, head-sized sweet potato, its skin charred and glistening with caramelized sugar.

The fragrance hit them immediately—warm, earthy, and intoxicatingly sweet. Even Liergu's stoic expression softened. For a brief moment, he thought he'd gotten a bargain; such a large tuber must surely be worth more than a single beast spar.

But that illusion shattered when the man took a knife and sliced the sweet potato in half lengthwise, then again and again, until eight neat pieces lay steaming on the wooden board.

"Here you are, guest," the shopkeeper said cheerfully, offering a single piece on a small plate.

Liergu's lips twitched. So that was the trade—one spar for one piece, not the entire tuber. His earlier pride in outsmarting a merchant vanished. Still, the scent was impossible to ignore.

He picked up a piece, its orange flesh glowing in the firelight, and took a cautious bite.

"Hss—!" The heat burned his tongue, but the taste followed instantly: a deep, honeyed sweetness that spread through his mouth like sunlight. He chewed slowly, savoring the texture—soft, sticky, and rich—and swallowed.

"This…" He breathed out, smiling despite himself. "This is delicious. Truly—delicious on earth. The sweetness alone could make a man happy."

Beside him, Nijisha's eyes widened. She could smell it now—its aroma made her throat tighten. She wanted so badly to taste it, but didn't dare move without permission.

Liergu noticed her silence and smirked. "I'll take all the rest," he said to the shopkeeper. "And wrap two more—uncut, the largest you have."

"Of course, sir!" The man's grin widened. A big order meant more contribution points, and he'd been trained to spot opportunity when it came.

Liergu turned to Nijisha. "If you want some, buy it. I'm not the old pervert Fuzi—I don't keep so many rules."

"My lord…" She blinked in surprise, then smiled faintly. The team behind her exchanged glances, uncertain.

"Go on," she told them quietly. "Each of you buy a little."

Her voice softened as she added under her breath, "Maybe… we can save some for Yanlu. If it comes to it, this might be the last good thing she ever tastes."

"Understood." The assassins nodded and hurried to the counter, eager as children.

The shopkeeper chuckled and kept busy, pulling more sweet potatoes from the stove. "We also sell dried ones," he offered. "They taste a bit different—sweeter, and they keep longer."

"How much?" Liergu asked.

"One catty for a junior high-grade beast spar."

"I'll take it all," Liergu said without hesitation.

The man froze, then bowed deeply. "At once, sir!" His grin was irrepressible. A sale like this would earn him five contribution points—enough to buy real furniture for his small home.

When the bundles were packed, Liergu gathered them in one arm and stepped back into the cool street. "Let's go," he said, his voice once again calm and controlled.

The team followed, cloaks drawn close. Liergu's eyes moved across the lanterns and shop signs as they walked. Every storefront, every scent, every conversation—he noted them all. Black Tortoise City was alive, confident, and organized. Its people acted freely, yet with discipline. That alone spoke volumes.

They left through the southern gate, where the guards inspected their "Clearance Document" and stamped it with the city's sigil. Beyond the gate, the air felt heavier, less fragrant—the wilderness stretching between the great beast's back and the walls of Amestris City.

When they reached the outer walls of Amestris, the sentries spotted them and hurried to open the gate. Dorian was already waiting.

"How did it go?" he asked eagerly. His eyes fell immediately to the bundles under Liergu's arm. "What's that you've got?"

"There's a city—Black Tortoise—built on the back of a colossal beast," Liergu said. His tone was quiet, but his words carried weight. "Its City Lord… he gives me the same feeling as when I faced that one."

Dorian's eyes widened. "You mean—Tier Eight?"

Liergu's gaze darkened. "Almost impossible. But close enough."

Fuzi stepped from the shadows, his rough voice cutting in. "Their attitude toward us? Enemy, or ally?"

"Neither," Liergu said. "Cautious, but friendly. They seem eager to trade with Amestris. They even have a commercial street open to visitors—anyone who passes inspection can buy or sell there."

Fuzi nodded slowly, thoughtful. "Then we lift the surface alert. But double the guard at the gates. Quietly. A Tier Eight isn't something we can afford to provoke."

"Yes, sir." Liergu shrugged, unbothered. "Your command."

Dorian's curiosity returned to the bundle. "And what are you carrying from Black Tortoise?"

Liergu tightened his hold on the package. "Food. You'll have to buy your own if you want to taste it—I don't have enough to share."

Dorian snorted. "Stingy as ever."

Liergu gave him a faint, knowing grin. "I'll leave the rest for you," he said over his shoulder as he walked away.

Fuzi's eyes followed him until he vanished into the shadows, then shifted to Nijisha and the team behind her. "You," he said curtly. "Hand it over."

Nijisha froze, then reluctantly opened her bag and produced the roasted sweet potatoes she had bought for Yanlu. Her hands lingered on them for a moment before she let go. The other assassins followed suit, surrendering their purchases without complaint.

Dorian watched, disgust twisting his expression. "Stealing food from your own subordinates," he muttered under his breath. "You're not worth standing beside."

Fuzi ignored him, already turning away, the scent of roasted sweetness curling up from his hands.

Behind him, Nijisha stood silently, her gaze lowered. The warmth of the shop, the laughter, the smell of sweet potatoes—it all felt far away now, fading like smoke in the night.

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