The Silver Vine Town

 In the bitter winter, amidst icy wilderness, crimson auroras erupted through mountain forests. Butterflies danced in night skies as luminous rain descended, creating an ethereal elegance.

 This surreal spectacle stunned Qin Ming and Xu Yueping, rooting them in awestruck observation.

 Howling winds thrashed dense canopies, whipping up snowdrifts as the distant "crimson butterflies" rode the gale closer.

 Xu Yueping scrutinized the blood-tinted night, finally discerning the phenomenon's nature.

 "A mutant plant in full bloom," he declared, "radiating vital energy. Nearby beasts and raptors are beginning metamorphosis."

 As he spoke, the fluttering "butterflies" neared—revealed as glowing petals carried by mountain gusts.

 Qin Ming caught several, fingertips glowing faint vermilion.

 Xu Yueping consumed two petals. Mutant flora's blossoms and fruits brimmed with life-force beneficial to humans.

 "Subtly sweet." Qin Ming tasted sparingly, lamenting the sparse distribution here.

 Distant peaks blazed with petal-storms like burning dawn, dispelling night's veil.

 Flocks scrambled skyward pursuing crimson fragments while primal roars echoed through woodlands—countless creatures vied for the bounty.

 Qin Ming's pulse quickened with expeditionary urge.

 "Futile," Xu dissuaded, "By arrival, only barrenness and perilous beasts await."

 Mutant flora bloomed seasonlessly, unpredictably. Their splendor preceded swift demise.

 Qin Ming sighed. "Mysteries surround even our dwellings. How I yearn to pierce night's shroud, explore the boundless wilds."

 Xu nodded. "Ambition fuels progress. First, journey to Crimson Dawn City—there you'll glimpse reality's edge."

 "Consider academic trials there."

 "You've been?" Qin studied his companion.

 Xu's crow's feet deepened. "Witnessed its marvels. Learned to accept mediocrity." His tone held autumn's resignation, summer's fervor long spent.

 "You've seen much," Qin offered lamely.

 Xu's smile turned ashen. "Youth breeds delusions." He swallowed bitter truths unfit for young ears—realism's erosion of dreams.

 "Ten miles without prey," Xu grumbled, needing game for town trade.

 "Drawn to the mutant bloom," Qin reasoned.

 Normally, this route required armed convoys—night's cloak hid manifold dangers.

 "Not entirely fruitless." Xu emerged from thickets with forty-pound muntjac.

 Silver Vine Town materialized through snowfall—lamplit buildings composing serenity's cameo.

 Traffic thickened: hunters exiting, traders entering, cargo-laden beast-drawn carts rumbling past.

 Xu navigated familiar arteries toward bustling markets. Scarlet lanterns illuminated porcelain, silk, and incense stalls. Food aromas—griddle cakes, dumplings—perfumed the air.

 Qin compared this vibrancy to Twin Trees Village's sepulchral quiet.

 Xu inquired about grain—prices remained exorbitant. Snowbound roads choked supplies.

 At town center glowed the dwindling Fire Spring. Though waning, its eight-zhang pool shimmered with misty radiance.

 The namesake silver vine—barrel-thick yet ordinary—drew feeble nourishment from lava-like waters.

 Qin noticed crimson bivalves in the pool. "Fire Clams. Cultivated solely here. Their destination—and consumers—remain mysteries."

 Weapon shops thrived near the spring—survival demanded quality arms.

 Snowflakes spiraled as Xu led toward a sunstone-lit tavern. Early hours meant emptiness.

 "First patrons?" Xu asked the drowsy attendant.

 "Seek Feng Yi'an," Xu stated. The youth straightened, complying.

 Muntjac bartered for liquor—food shortages eased such trades.

 "The tavern-keeper's father arrived westward on a monstrous bird with some master," Xu recounted. "Some say that master perished to Lunar Worms in deep mountains."

 "Feng arrives at noon," the attendant reported.

 Xu dismissed entertainment. "Business discussions only."

 Dim crystal lamps cast prismatic shadows as Xu departed for aristocratic petitions.

 Qin sipped amber liquor, observing snow-flecked commerce—village life's antithesis.

 Xu returned, snow-dusted, gulping liquor. "They'll grant you an audience."

 Qin discerned the truth—only a steward's polite deflection.

 "Six-hundred-pound capacity should impress!" Xu insisted.

 "Metropolitan nobles see differently," Qin countered. Rumored young mistress' talents dwarfed local standards.

 Xu grimaced. "Avoidance is wisdom. Who knows their true circumstances?"

 Noon's pallid light revealed Feng's arrival with two rangers, bringing winter's chill.

 "Apologies for delays," Feng feigned camaraderie. Qin suppressed violent impulses—this beard-faced hypocrite barely patrolled, frequenting brothels instead.

 Xu forced smiles through negotiations. Feng demanded privacy, their camaraderie evaporating in the private booth.

 "Obstinacy endangers families," Feng sneered, slapping Xu's face. "Packhorses might stampede through your cottage."

 "I'll plant the Black Moon," Xu conceded.

 "Should've yielded earlier." Feng's palm cracked louder. "The Captain grows impatient."

 Emerging, Feng offered faux warmth. "Stay for drinks?"

 Qin declined, noticing Xu's cheek imprint. "Heaven's justice awaits them," he vowed.