Two figures soared through the sky, gliding effortlessly atop their flying swords. Their robes fluttered in the wind as they sped toward the eastern outskirts of the city.
"Master," a young girl of about sixteen asked, her voice cutting through the wind, "why aren't we stopping in the city first? Should we not inquire about Senior Uncle at the Ginseng Palace?"
The girl's name was Xu Quinoa.
The woman beside her was her master. She was serene and composed, even as she rode on her sword, neither her hair nor her dress fluttered in the wind.
"It is true," the woman replied calmly, "that your Senior Uncle visited the Ginseng Palace. But his final steps were not taken there. Before his spiritual locator shattered, it recorded him heading into the forest to the east of the city."
Xu Quinoa's fingers curled into fists.
"But why would Senior Uncle enter the forest? What could possibly draw him there?"
"I cannot say," her master said with a light shake of her head. "All I knew was that he came to this city intending to visit the Ginseng Palace. Beyond that, he shared no further plans."
Xu Quinoa gritted her teeth and slammed her fist into her other palm.
"I don't believe senior uncle would go into the forest willingly. One of those fox-spirits in the Ginseng Palace must have lured him there!"
Her master let out a melodious laugh, soft and pleasant to the ears.
"Haha… You may be right. My junior brother has always been soft-hearted when it comes to women. It would not surprise me in the least if what you said is true and one of them had indeed sweet-talked him into something foolish."
Xu Quinoa pouted with frustration. "There are far better places than the Ginseng Palace in our province. I don't understand why he always returns to this small, barren city."
Her master sighed gently. "He was born here, after all. Before he ever stepped outside and entered the sect, he must have always known the Ginseng Palace and frequented there. Sentimental attachments like that… are not so easily severed."
Xu Quinoa looked down at the vast stretches of land below atop her flying sword, her voice laced with sorrow.
"What has attachment gotten him now? He's dead."
"Don't say it like that, Quinoa." Her master's voice grew more solemn. "Whatever his reasons, we must accept them with respect. His path was his own to walk."
There was a pause, and then she added, "Come. We must hurry. It has already been more than a day since his life plate shattered. If we delay, the beasts of the forest may leave nothing behind for us to bury."
The two of them angled their swords lower, disappearing into the mists above the trees.
—------------
Chu Feng continued wandering through the city streets, quietly observing his surroundings. He had passed by several clothing shops, but they are establishments adorned with embroidered banners and polished wood, only catering to the wealthy and the successful. He was neither.
Still cloaked, he moved along the street until he came upon a modest store tucked away in a shabby area. Its sign was faded, and its interior dimly lit, but the clothes displayed were simple and practical—the kind favored by common folk.
With the little copper he had, Chu Feng managed to purchase five sets of plain ladies' garments for twenty copper coins, and two modest male outfits for ten copper. He hesitated briefly, then added two sets of women's undergarments, which cost him another ten copper.
In total, he had spent forty copper, leaving just five remaining in his pouch.
"Sigh…" he muttered to himself. "I'm broke. Dirt broke."
Still, it wasn't without gain—Ling'er would now have clean clothes to wear, and he had something decent for himself as well. That was enough for now.
He left the store but lingered for a while in the market, browsing around out of curiosity rather than intent to buy. But then—
"Hey! Stop right there!"
Chu Feng turned, startled. The voice had come from behind him, loud and commanding.
"Ji-ji-ji!" came a heavy thuds of someone running and each footfall was as loud as a war drum on the bare earth.
A round, plump boy burst through the crowd, cheeks stuffed with half-chewed buns, steam still rising from his hand as he gnawed another bite. It was clear this was the person being chased.
Before Chu Feng could dodge, the portly man slammed straight into him.
BAM!
A searing pain shot through Chu Feng's chest.
Crack!
He felt something shift painfully near his ribcage. The blow sent him sprawling to the ground, where he sat in a daze, staring up at the sky as if the clouds had begun to spin.
The pursuer—a wiry man with a clenched jaw—caught up moments later, grabbing the fatty who had also fallen from the crash by his collar and hauling him up with one arm.
"You rotten thief! You think you can eat my buns and not pay for them?" the man growled, drawing back a fist to punish the fatty on the spot.
The fatty flailed his arms desperately. "Wait, wait! You misunderstand! I wasn't running away—I was only trying to catch up to my friend who has my coin pouch!"
As he spoke, he turned his round face toward Chu Feng, who was still lost on the ground.
"I… I was running to him!" the fatty declared, pointing directly at Chu Feng.
Chu Feng blinked once.
Then twice.
"Huh?"
Before Chu Feng could fully grasp the ridiculous situation the fatty had dragged him into, the buns seller was already at his side, gripping him tightly.
"So you're working with him, huh? If you don't pay for the buns he just ate, neither of you is leaving," the man growled, clutching both Chu Feng and the round troublemaker like two chickens caught in his coop.
Chu Feng struggled to free himself, but it was no use—the buns seller clearly had some cultivation and strength behind his grip. Struggling was futile.
All he could do was protest. "I don't even know this guy! He ran into me! And now he's saying I have his money?"
But the buns seller wasn't having any of it.
"Save it. If neither of you pays me, I'll drag both of you away and neither of you both will have an easy time."
Chu Feng's heart pounded.
"Wait! Fine, just tell me—how much are the buns?"
The vendor narrowed his eyes and scratched his chin.
"The buns cost two copper. But I've lost three copper's worth of business chasing this rogue, so make it five."
Chu Feng's expression twisted into frustration. The last five copper changes he was hoping to keep for another time to come were now being wasted on something he never touched and ate.
Gritting his teeth, he fished out the coins and slapped them into the buns seller's open palm.
"Take it! And may your buns drown in oil!"
The buns seller laughed, pocketing the coins with a smug look.
"If there's more oil on my buns, wouldn't they taste better? Haha! You don't even know how to curse properly." With that, he turned on his heel and strutted back to his stall, leaving the two behind.
The crowd that had gathered to watch quickly dispersed.
Chu Feng didn't even look at the fatty. His blood was boiling. He was certain that if he so much as glanced at that face, he might lose control.
But then, the fatty had to speak.
"Brother, thank you! If it weren't for you, I'd be dead meat."
That was the final straw.
Chu Feng turned slowly, eyes blazing. He didn't say a word—his fist did all the talking.
"BAM!"
His punch shot through the air, aiming directly for the fatty's round face. He had hoped to crush his cheekbone or maybe even knock out a tooth or two. But the blow didn't land as expected.
The fatty had caught his fist—casually, with one hand.
"Brother, what are you doing?" he asked with a mouth full of buns, still chewing and speaking at the same time.
He held Chu Feng's fist with while raising another bun to his greasy lips with the other hand. The scene felt surreal—mocking, even.
To Chu Feng, the look in fatty's eyes was infuriating. The way he kept chewing, the way he smiled… it was as if he was taunting him deliberately.
Chu Feng tried to pull his fist free, but he couldn't. The strength holding him wasn't comparable to the buns seller, but it was undeniable.
Is… is this fatty also a cultivator?
Great! Even cats and dogs in this city are cultivators? How will I ever get out of situations like this, if it happens everytime I come into the city in the future?
If he had strength of his own, this whole charade could have been avoided.
"Brother, may I see your face? I'd like to repay you someday," the fatty said with surprising sincerity, still holding Chu Feng's hand.
Chu Feng said nothing. He yanked his hand away, turned, and walked off stiffly.
But before he walked a distance, he suddenly stopped when he thought of something. He turned over to the fatty and with a cold eyes, he said while stretching his hand,
"Give me breathing techniques for cultivation, everything you have on you."
The fatty was shocked and for a moment, the hand that was bringing the bun to his mouth paused.
"What? You don't want to?" Chu Feng taunted. He did not know whether this fatty was truly a cultivator, but if he was then definitely, he would have some set of breathing techniques on his body.
"Okay, okay, fine! But I only have one." The fatty said and then flicked his hand.
It was at this moment that Chu Feng realized the fatty had a storage ring on his finger all along.
He truly was a cultivator. Chu Feng thought and was glad. He grabbed the short manual fatty had flung at his direction, holding it like a priceless treasure.
"With this, Ling'er would be able to sense and absorb Qi energy in the air and she can start to cultivate.
He left with happiness while the fatty simply watched him go, with his mouth still chewing.
—---------
GFOC was watching the mortal world from where he sat on his throne in the cosmos.
"Hohoho!" He chuckled.
"I don't think that's enough to drive him to a frenzy to cultivate the technique. I think I need to work harder," he muttered to himself.
He had set his eyes on Chu Feng long before everything began and when Luo Zhen casually cast his lot across the realms, GFOC had seized that opportunity, subtly redirecting its fall—guiding it to Earth, to the exact moment when Chu Feng lay dying.
After nine times GFOC had watched Chu Feng's soul possessed different bodies, he was able to verify that it was indeed the type of soul he wanted. So he had finally directed and forced Chu Feng's soul into the body of a leper, one that has no spirit root; thereby cutting the cycle of Chu Feng's soul going from body to body and dying.
Every meaningful event since then has been by GFOC's orchestration.
He had made Chu Feng encounter the old man's memories. He had made him accessible to the heartroot cultivation technique. The rabbit Chu Feng had once chased deeper into the mountain forest was his doing. The cause of the explosion that had happened after was also his doing. And what of the sudden strike from the tail serpent that struck Chu Feng and left him gasping for life? All of it was his design.
The strike from the tail serpent was necessary because he wanted Chu Feng to feel firsthand the torment of how tempering of the heart would be like, and the sweetness of its agony.
If Chu Feng had ever felt that fate was steering events unnaturally in his direction… then his instincts were right.
GFOC was the one pulling every string.
"Sigh… I just want someone to successfully cultivate the technique I painstakingly created for a mortal woman I once fancied in the mortal world. She had been born with no spirit root and can't cultivate, so I dropped the technique into the mortal world for her to come in contact with. However, she still failed and her heart blew in the end."
"And over the times the technique has gone from hand to hand, not a single soul has succeeded in cultivating it since its creation. But after countless failures, I discovered that only a disaster soul can endure it. And now, after finally finding such a soul, he's too scared to even try?"
His voice turned sharp with irritation.
"Just cultivate it, boy! Cultivate it, and I'll leave your pathetic life alone."
Leaning back, GFOC propped his chin on one palm and crossed his bony legs. He sat atop on his bone throne and he was relaxed like a mortal.
"I even drove that whole business with the fatty and the bun seller. I wanted him to feel the sting of powerlessness, the kind that seeps into your marrow and makes you desperate."
But I doubt that can be enough.
GFOC narrowed his eyes.
"No matter… I'll just keep pushing him deeper into despair. Crush him under the weight of helplessness again and again, until the only thing left for him to reach for… is power."
His skeletal fingers tapped rhythmically on the armrest of the throne. Then his grin stretched wide.
"Yes. Once he craves power more than anything, he'll have no choice but to embrace my technique."
"Hohoho…!"
His menacing laughter echoed across the cosmos.