“And that was the end of that,” Hong said. The three robed men clapped appreciatively as he finished his report.

“So, there will be no further problems with the Flaming Bloody Organs Sect?” The man in a robe of midnight blue asked.

“None,” Hong said, his confidence absolute. “After the sect master of the sect fell to my ultimate technique, we were able to annihilate what remained of his sect in only a couple minutes. So far as I’m aware, the only survivor is the torturer who surrendered to us prior to the battle.”

Hong was understating his own efficacy. The disciples of the Flaming Bloody Organs Sect, panicked, had sought to flee, but had been no match for Hong’s ability to clean messes at speed, or to Mu’s berserker sword arts. ‘A couple minutes’ was, frankly, a rather generous way of describing a slaughter that had in practice been nigh instantaneous.

Following the battle, they had transferred the sect torturer to Jarnvidr Eastern Branch (the Noodle Shop Repair Sect lacked the resources to handle prisoners, on account of the fact that their enemies rarely survived long enough to fall into their grasp), and had made it back to their inn in time to catch a lovely if all too brief sleep.

It was the day after the battle. They were sitting on an outdoor patio, enjoying the glorious cuisine of a neighbouring noodle shop, and Hong was submitting his final report on the recently averted crisis to the Noodle Shop Repair Demon (and his noodle -loving buddies) in person.

“Indeed, it was a very near miss - I might have had to file a report taking responsibility for making a mistake,” he noted, “but fortunately, the entire request was fabricated.”

“But what about the potential catastrophe involving the Flaming Bloody Organs Sect?” asked the man in red.

“Huh? Wasn’t the Satisfaction Guaranteed clause the real concern?” Hong replied. “If it weren’t for the Flaming Bloody Organs Sect having invoked that clause, I wouldn’t have even bothered to submit this report in person. We take the quality of our work very seriously at the Noodle Shop Repair Sect, you know.”

“…More seriously than you do an entire demonic sect attempting to hunt you down and kill you?”

“Naturally; the latter is merely inevitable, even if we’re thorough in uprooting all those who may destroy noodle shops for fun. Issues with the repairs, however, are avoidable, and to fail to avoid them would be an intolerable tragedy. Hence even the possibility of my making such a mistake necessitates filing a report with the big boss in person.”

“Indeed, my disciple is correct. There's just one detail I want to double check,” said the robed figure dressed all in black, whose voice clearly identified him as Hong's employer. “Did I seriously hear you say that you defeated the demonic sect master with the Basic Cooking Technique, First Form?”

“That would be correct, master. I was recently privileged enough to learn the basics of cooking from the mighty spirit Xufu O’Paddyhaddy. I believe I mentioned my training with him in my last report.”

“So I had heard, but I assumed you were joking, or would come out just as terrible a cook as when first you'd started. I didn't think you would actually successfully unlock the secrets to ultimate power [i.e. knowledge of basic noodle cooking].”

The demon fell silent for a moment.

“You know what this means, of course.”

“No, I'm afraid I don't,” said Hong, his words perfectly sincere. “Unless what it means is that I’ll be in charge of cooking at all future Noodle Shop Repair Sect sect camping trips, which was rather obvious.”

The Noodle Shop Repair Demon shook his head. Strangely, in spite of his solemn form, Hong had the distinct impression that he was beaming with joy.

“It means I must congratulate you, my disciple - no, the sect’s First Disciple; for you have done the impossible [learned to cook], and consequently there is no role you can hold in the sect other than that of Young Master of the Noodle Shop Repair Sect.”

Hong blanched. “Master, you cannot be serious - would that not force me to spend time away from what is truly fundamental in life [repairing noodle shops]? I cannot possibly accept such an honour, however great it may be.”

“You don't have to worry; the position is mostly ceremonial. It's not like I'll be dying any time soon, after all,” the Noodle Shop Repair Demon said, as he slurped his noodles. “But no one else has achieved such a feat in all the history of our sect, so I can assure you that however much you may want to turn the honour down, you have no choice but to accept.”

“Besides,” he continued after a moment, Hong having lost the ability to speak, “if you think about it, you can repair many more noodle shops by proxy if you assist me in strengthening the infrastructure underlying the sect.”

Hong sighed. It seemed he had no choice. “Alas and alack - though I would prefer otherwise, if you insist, master, then follow your will I shall; for the glory of the humble noodle shop and the strength of the sect.”

The Noodle Shop Repair Demon nodded solemnly. He removed a form from a sleeve pocket, wrote several words down upon it, and stamped it summarily. “So I have said; so you have concurred; and so it is done.”

Hong bowed. “It is done,” he agreed.

It was done, but all was not done, for just at that moment a loud and angry curse resounded across the plaza, accompanied by a burst of thunder and lightning and the crackle of ethereal fire. “Noodle Shop Repair Demon, stand at the ready and prepare to fight - for I have come for your head!”

“Huh?” The Noodle Shop Repair Demon said. “Who are you?”

The furious cultivator - who Hong thought looked strangely familiar - waved his blade about. He was standing not twenty feet from the quartet, radiating enough energy to burn at the surrounding tiles, his sword wreathed in fire. “Who am I? Who am I? You take advantage of our good graces - you delude and mislead our sect - you insult us and our honour, and you have the gall to claim not to recognise me?”

“There are many people I don’t recognise. I’m a forgetful man,” said the Noodle Shop Repair Demon, who shared the same selectively defective memory as his apprentice. “Let me guess - you’re the guy from the Bureau of Small Talks?”

“No!”

“The Young Master of the Adorable Kazoo Song Sect?”

“No!”

“The emperor’s second cousin’s sister’s niece’s roommate’s friend’s daughter’s dog’s previous owner’s husband’s uncle?”

“No, for the love of-”

“Carl?”

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

“No!” The man stamped his foot in rage. “I am Mu Kao, sect master of Jarnvidr Eastern Branch.”

“Ohhhh,” said both Hong and Azcabellon simultaneously. So that was why he looked so familiar - he was Mu’s dad.

Mu Kao reached into a pocket, pulling out a scroll. Hong recognised it as the prisoner transfer request that the Noodle Shop Repair Sect had sent to Jarnvidr Eastern Branch, asking for the latter to hold the Flaming Bloody Organs Sect torturer prior to a full judicial questioning. At the bottom of the request, clearly discernible, was the seal and signature of ‘Azcabellon the Candlelight, the Noodle Shop Repair Demon.’

“I permitted my son to enter your sect under the misapprehension that it was an orthodox sect, when it was in fact a demonic sect, as this signature clearly attests. I have come to rectify the error caused by this misunderstanding.”

“Wait, Mu didn’t know?” Hong asked. “It’s not like I was hiding it from him. I could’ve sworn he knew.”

***

Several cities away, Mu walked cheerily down the street. All was right in his world. He had completed a major mission, grown greatly in strength, and had even convinced a lovely young lady to go walking about the city with him. Geraldine looked a little nervous, but the candied haws in her hand and pleasant music lilting down the street were slowly wearing away at her distress, which was what Mu wanted; he’d heard she’d been having trouble acclimating to the cultivation world, and had offered to take her out and answer her questions.

Yes, everything was good. He’d heard his father had been less than enthused with the prisoner transfer request he’d received from the Noodle Shop Repair Sect, but the reasoning given by message to Mu had been so bizarre that he thought it must have been a total miscommunication. The Noodle Shop Repair Sect was an orthodox cultivation sect, after all.

***

“You may have deluded my son,” said Mu Kao, “but you won’t deceive me! En garde, demon - prepare for death!”

“But honourable sect master,” said the figure in the midnight blue robe, “your son wasn’t deceived - the Noodle Shop Repair Sect is an orthodox sect.”

“Oh? And what is your reasoning for that, stranger?” Mu Kao cursed.

The figure in the blue robe stood up from his seat, and tossed his hood aside. Mu Kao gagged. “Your- your majesty?!”

The emperor of the Great Xuan bowed. “Indeed. Do forgive the disguise - it's the only way to eat noodles peacefully in public. Needless to say, I am quite certain that the Noodle Shop Repair Sect is an orthodox cultivation sect - they may not be vocally so, preferring to operate in silence and secrecy, but they are committed to the cause of righteousness and benevolence with an unusual degree of intensity, unmatched by many other orthodox sects.”

“Not true,” said Azcabellon. “We only do good now, that evil may be done later.”

“See-” Mu Kao started, but he was interrupted by the laughter of the fat man in red.

“Pfft, is that what you think?” The man in red laughed, tone jolly, and Mu Kao gasped as he recognised the voice.

“Your- your-”

“Yes, it is I,” the man said, removing his hood. A big, bushy white beard dropped down to his chest, and merry eyes twinkled over his chubby cheeks.

“But… honoured ancestor… did you not ascend to immortality?” Mu Kao gasped. “Why are you at a random noodle shop in the Xiaoxian region?”

“Yes, I did; but though the noodles in the Heavens are delicious, they can’t compare to noodles eaten in the company of friends.”

And the old man smiled. “But, my honourable descendant, I am disappointed in you. Are our teachings not to protect innocence and playfulness through righteous conduct? And is that not what the Noodle Shop Repair Sect - which preserves the humble noodle shop, hearth of the world - does? Consequently, what does it matter if the sect master of their sect is a man or a demon?”

“But he himself admitted he only does good for the sake of evil,” Mu Kao pointed out reasonably. “Hence, whatever good deeds we may want to grant him were never done in goodness, and were merely a front.”

“Precisely,” the Noodle Shop Repair Demon agreed, but the fat man dressed all in red waved the criticism away.

“Oh, that’s what he says. But look at what he does - for nearly a millennium now, he has spread the joy and warmth of the home in its most concentrated form, and has trained tens of thousands to follow in his footsteps. What evil has resulted from his actions? Sure, he attributes his goodness to a villainy as yet to be realised; but said villainy has never manifested, and instead all that has happened is that the warmth of the noodles kindled fires in people’s breasts, and returned hope to their heads and their hearts.”

“Precisely,” agreed the emperor. “Measured, perhaps, by some abstract theoretical scale, his actions are perfectly villainous and the very epitome of evil; but if examined in their immediate givenness, is he not one of the finest of righteous cultivators alive?”

Mu Kao thought this over and blinked, coming to a realisation. With a sudden thud he dropped down to his knees before the Noodle Shop Repair Demon, bowing towards him. “The emperor and the founder of my sect speak the truth. I must apologise to you, humble demon; for you have done right and I, I was the fool enough not to see it.”

The Noodle Shop Repair Demon blanched. His friends had spent centuries trying to convince him that he was a good person, but it wasn’t until the orthodox cultivator before him he conceded the merit of their words that something in the demon clicked. “Wait… have I… have I been doing good deeds all this time?”

“Yes,” said the emperor, “you are one of those who does good in secret, free from worries of fame or reputation, seeking to reap no rewards and be known by none; and thus, you became what the ancients called the ‘hidden sage’.”

There was a profound silence for several moments as the Noodle Shop Repair Demon digested their words, his face devastated under his mask.

“Well what do you know? Maybe I have been doing good deeds all along,” Azcabellon the Candlelight admitted. “Does that mean… I was trying to be a good person?”

Immediately, there was a burst of light from the demon's body, multihued beams spilling out about him. An almighty clap of thunder split the heavens, as the demon acquired merit for every good deed that he’d ever performed. The demon sat there in shock. “Wait, hold up - what’s happening? What’s that light?”

The light emanating from the demon’s body, far from shrinking, grew in strength and intensity, the rays of light oscillating about him. Eventually a great portal opened in the sky, and the lights of the demon were joined by a massive beam of light which descended straight from the Heavens above, striking the earth with a clap of bells.

As the Noodle Shop Repair Demon continued to stare about him in bewilderment a haunting, ethereal music emanated from the Heavens. Cherubs and fairy maidens descended from the sky, tossing handfuls of flower petals around and making vaguely choral “ooh, ahh, ooh” noises as they flew in circles about the Noodle Shop Repair Demon’s head.

The demon started to drift into the air - an evidently involuntary activity, for he tried in vain to get back to earth, pushing his hands about as if he were swimming, kicking his feet, and going “oy, oy, don’t you do this to me. I do not belong up there.”

He grabbed onto the chair, which began to drift up with him, then let go so he could hold fast to a lamp post. He hung there awkwardly, the force on his body increasingly strong, as the gathered cherubs and fairy maidens and immaterial heavenly music sang louder and louder and threw ever greater fistfuls of flower petals about.

“Oy, oy,” the demon cried in terror, “I can’t possibly be ascending to Heaven! All I did was some good deeds! Hey, stop! I’m a demon, darn it!”

But stop the pull of the Heavens did not. The Noodle Shop Repair Demon’s friends wiped tears out of their eyes as they saw their bosom colleague ascend into immortality, silly smiles plastered all over their faces.

“Ahhhh,” Azcabellon screamed, before the force became too much for the lamp post - which splintered in half - and sent him hurtling into the Heavens.

There was a brief moment where his body passed beyond the beam of light which had descended from the Heavens, the entirety of its source concentrating upon him, and the people gathered below thought they could hear a great, booming voice cry “Finally!”... And then the demon was gone. There was a stark silence as the cherubs and fairy maidens and immaterial heavenly music spontaneously vanished with him.

Somewhere far, far off in the distance, Skullslurper shivered, suddenly beset by a dire premonition that the fate of the entire demon race was in peril. He shrugged it off and continued serving soup at the Super Evil Soup Kitchen.

Back at the restaurant, however, there was nothing save clapping and cheering and hooting and hollering, as the gathered mortals congratulated the now-vanished demon on his divine achievement… Well, there was almost nothing.

Hong groaned as he watched his master ascend to immortality and realised who, exactly, was in charge of the sect now.

“Oh, crap.”

~ Finis ~