The crowd was too thick to push through, so Lucas climbed onto a nearby street step, balancing on his toes to get a better view.

Indeed, it was a magic show.

A man in simple clothing sat at a small wooden table in a cleared space about two zhang wide. He had three cups and a few peach pits that he moved between them, playing a classic sleight-of-hand game called "Three Immortals Returning to the Cave."

The crowd cheered and guessed along, as if trying to outsmart the performer.

Lucas frowned.

He had seen this kind of trick before. It relied heavily on skill and misdirection—the more skilled the performer, the better they understood the audience's thoughts.

Upon closer inspection, Lucas frowned even more.

If the space had been more open, with the man performing in the center, surrounded by people on all sides, and still managing to execute the trick flawlessly, Lucas might have entertained the possibility that the man possessed some unusual abilities. But the table was placed against a wall, and the fewer people behind him were standing where it was easier to spot flaws in the act. Moreover, the performer had companions stationed strategically to block those angles.

Lucas scanned the directions where the trick would be most vulnerable.

Indeed, from those positions, it was easier to spot the trick. The few people standing there seemed to have noticed something but either couldn't see clearly enough or didn't feel the need to ruin the performer's livelihood, so they said nothing.

Most of the audience, however, was captivated.

Evidently, such lively entertainment was a rare sight, and many found the performance intriguing.

Lucas said nothing, continuing to watch.

After a while, a bearded middle-aged man covered a copper basin with a colorful cloth. When he lifted the cloth, the basin was empty. He covered it again, and when he removed the cloth a second time, the basin was filled with water and a live carp.

The crowd erupted in cheers.

Many people's eyes widened in amazement.

After the fish trick, the performer moved on to pulling items out of an empty box. He produced fruits, vegetables, kittens, puppies, and even items that people in the audience had on them. When someone jokingly asked for a widow’s red undergarment from the street, the performer managed to produce that as well.

Lucas remained skeptical, his brows furrowing.

He held on to a sliver of hope and a great deal of patience.

As time passed and the sun climbed higher, the crowd grew even larger, reaching its peak.

The performer's apprentice knelt on the ground, collecting money from the crowd, while the older performer addressed the audience:

"Thank you all for your generous support. We've managed to earn enough for our journey. Some of the acts you’ve seen were truly magical, while others were the result of years of hard work. We’re grateful for your enthusiasm and for those who’ve spotted our tricks but chose not to call us out. We’re deeply thankful to you all."

With that, he bowed deeply.

The audience, thoroughly entertained, called out for more, encouraging the performer to continue.

Though he hadn’t eaten breakfast and was hungry, the performer decided not to disappoint the crowd.

He gestured to the side, and a boy of about thirteen or fourteen ran out. Despite the chilly spring weather, he wore only a pair of pants, his upper body bare, ribs visible under his thin skin.

The older performer, ever the showman, continued, "Those with money, please support us with a coin; those without, please lend us your applause. This young boy hasn’t performed much yet, so don’t let him lose face."

The boy, silent and serious, ran around the clearing twice, showing his empty mouth to the audience. He then took a black pill and some sugar, chewed them together, and suddenly, his eyes widened.

"Whoosh..."

A large flame burst from his mouth, shocking the crowd and drawing gasps and applause.

Even Lucas was surprised.

He didn’t know what the black pill was, but even if it was something flammable, there was no visible source of ignition.

Intrigued, Lucas hurried down from the steps and pushed through the crowd.

"Excuse me, let me through..."

"Who’s pushing?"

"Watch it, boy!"

"Move aside, please."

More people were drawn by the flames and the noise, and Lucas had to use one hand to protect his basket and the medicine inside as he made his way to the center.

"Whoosh!!"

Another flame shot into the air.

The crowd was still buzzing with excitement.

This was what you called a heated performance.

But the show was nearing its end.

The young performer, now visibly exhausted, panted heavily as he looked at the older man and the audience, bowing low in silence.

Coins, fruits, vegetables, and even eggs rolled toward the center as the audience showed their appreciation.

But then, a voice cut through the festive atmosphere.

"After all this time, I finally see something worth calling a real trick. But such a crude fire-breathing technique—performing it at a temple fair—isn’t that a bit insulting to the audience?"

The voice was old and laced with disdain.

The crowd turned to see an elderly man in simple clothes.

"And who might this critic be?" the older performer asked cautiously, bowing slightly.

"Just a fellow performer," the old man replied with a smile.

The older performer’s expression darkened.

The audience paused for a moment, then many of them began to show signs of excitement, eager to see what would happen next.

The atmosphere, already lively, became even more charged.

"Although they say that fellow performers are rivals, we’ve paid our dues and reported to the local authorities. We’ve done nothing wrong, haven’t encroached on anyone’s territory," the older performer said, choosing his words carefully.

"You’ve done nothing wrong," the old man replied cheerfully. "I just arrived here a bit later than you and found out from the officials that someone else had already paid for the best spot. Since I had nothing else to do today, I thought I’d come see what skills my peers from other places have. But I must say, I wasn’t too impressed."

His tone was light, almost regretful, as if he truly meant no harm. He even sighed at the end.

The older performer’s face showed a mix of emotions, but he finally withdrew his bow and said, "If you think our skills are lacking, then I assume you have something to teach us!"

"Teach? No, no, nothing like that," the old man said with a wave of his hand. "I just thought you might not know—maybe the audience doesn’t know either—but fire-breathing has two levels: the lower level requires fire pills or oil, while the higher level doesn’t need anything at all."

The older performer was visibly startled.

The crowd hesitated, then burst into chatter, with some calling out:

"Show us the higher level!"

"Let’s see you do it!"

"Don’t just talk, old man—show us!"

"Come on, don’t ruin it for everyone!"

The old man initially resisted, but as the crowd's demands grew louder, he finally stepped forward.

Unhurried, he approached the burning brazier filled with wood and flames that the older performer had used. Smiling at the audience, he suddenly bent down and inhaled deeply.

Instantly, the flames curled up like a living thing, narrowing into a stream that flowed directly into his mouth.

The crowd fell silent, watching in amazement.

The old man opened his mouth to show that it was empty, then suddenly exhaled:

"Whoosh..."

Another flame shot into the sky.

The audience was stunned.

Lucas's eyes widened in disbelief.

The flame wasn’t as long or concentrated as the older performer’s, but the fact that the old man hadn’t used any props and had inhaled fire only to release it again made the visual impact far greater.

It was as if he had performed a divine feat.

The old man, seeing the crowd’s reaction, smiled and said, "I couldn’t refuse such enthusiasm, so I had to show my humble skills. But please step back—I'm not as strong as this young man, and the flames might spread and burn your hair or skin. I can’t be held responsible for that."

With that, he began to walk around the clearing, breathing out flames just like the older performer, letting the crowd feel the heat and even singe some hair to prove the flames were real.

With the drums and gongs accompanying him, the crowd was both terrified and thrilled.

A flame passed over Lucas's head.

He was one of the few who didn’t step back, instead just covering his basket’s opening without shielding his head.

The old man’s flames were indeed more dispersed, and Lucas could immediately feel the intense heat as they passed by.

At the same time, a strange feeling struck him.

It reminded him of the sensation he had when the spirit at the Wang family’s ancestral hall breathed smoke towards him.

Could it really be what he thought it was?

Lost in thought, Lucas reached up to touch his head.

A few strands of his hair were slightly singed.