Unaware of the horrible death that was shortly coming towards them, Hong and Mu continued in their heroic service to all mankind.

“You dare! You’re courting death,” cried Curdsley the cultivator, brandishing his Pickled Storm Cheese Lance at Hong.

His deadly weapon released a blast of holey yellow light (accompanied by a distinct smell of cheddar), enveloping Hong.

“Hmm. This cheese would be inadequate to cook with - its strong smell is incommensurate with its weak taste,” Hong observed, giving the cheese a poor rating. Then he proceeded to bang the cultivator over the head with a comically oversized hammer.

The cultivator fell back onto the cutting board, lying prone. Elsewhere Mu was duelling a second cultivator, the pair struggling to remain flying as they fought above a lake of soapy water. The bubbles kept rising into the air, nearly unseating them from their flying swords while making a mockery of Rennet’s - the cultivator’s - declaration that she would end Mu in a single blow.

A giant slice of havarti fell out of the sky, threatening to bring Hong to a cheesy demise. Hong leapt out of the way and the cheese sailed harmlessly past him, landing on a nearby slice of bread. The furious cultivator above shrieked curses at him as he prepared a second piece, this time of edam.

The noodle shop repairman shot off from the ground, tackling the cheesed-off cultivator out of the air and slamming him onto an immense stove in the middle of the room.

The heat of the cast-iron monstrosity was awful, although not unbearable for cultivators. The cultivator - Hong thought his name was Tomme - tried to slap Hong with the giant slice of edam, only to find the cheese lethargically spattering across the stovetop as it began to melt in his hands.

A cheeseparing fellow, Tomme continued trying to whack Hong with the cheese. The massive slice swung slowly through the air, a piping hot wall of tasty death. The cultivator paused in surprise as Hong caught the cheese.

A man with a rind as thick as the cheese, Hong activated his Cast-Iron Fire Arts, his form glowing red hot as he bent the edam around the cultivator, imprisoning him in his own snack attack.

Hong turned back to see if Mu needed help, but his concern was unnecessary. Mu had Rennet in a headlock, and was holding her head underwater. Useless as an attack - as a cultivator, she could hold her breath for days - but the soap had gotten into her eyes and was really annoying. She repeatedly slapped on the surface of the water to signify her surrender.

Hong lifted the cheese-coated Tomme over his shoulder, leaping off the stove and back onto the counter. There he lined the struggling man up alongside the unconscious cultivator and the still gagging Rennet, clapping his hands to signify a job well done.

“It’s done; you can come out now.” Hong called out, a slight undercurrent of qi amplifying his voice. It echoed across the massive castle kitchen, reverberating through the cracks and around the corners.

Slowly, hesitantly, the owner of the castle came out. The ground shook as the three hundred foot tall giant strode across the kitchen floor, towering over the group of cultivators.

He wrung his hands nervously, his lumpy face full of distress. His voice, when at last he spoke, boomed out, nearly knocking them over. In spite of the volume it was round and cheerful, if a little gravelly. He had a distinctly strong Avalonian accent, though he was careful with his enunciation.

“And they won’t cause any more problems? Only I’d hate it if they did that.”

Hong looked at the prone cultivators, began to emit a killing intent, and went to respond.

“No problems! No more problems!” Rennet and Tomme cried, shouting over each other in a desperate effort to make their message heard.

“Ah well, that’s good then,” the giant said, scratching at an ear shaped like cauliflower. “Looks like I have to thank you for the help. I hate dealing with the pests myself, be they bugs or… now where did you say these young ones came from?”

“The Affinage Badinage Sect.” Hong replied, voice still echoing.

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“Ohh, mighty fancy words. I see I’m dealing with the gentry,” the giant said and mimed tipping a hat. His expression was entirely sincere. “Still, it would have been mighty annoying to have this out and making a ruckus in the evening - I got me a dinner party coming up tonight. We’re taste testing window dressing.”

“Window dressing?” Hong replied, ever interested in increasing his knowledge of the thousandfold types of restaurants.

“Oh, aye. Growing up I always wondered why my ma’ and pa’ compared ornamentation ta ‘window dressing,’ and when I grew up to be a big giant I discovered that it’s because glass is real tasty with the right sauce. So I brought the family together, and we’re going to combine all the different sauces with glass to see which one makes the finest window dressing.”

“Hmmm. You’ll have to let me know what the outcome of your experiments are,” Hong said.

“‘Course I will. It would be my pleasure.”

Then a thought occurred to the giant.

“Say, how about I treat you, and grind up a bit o’ bread? I have the loveliest new mortar that I’d like to try,” and he pulled out a colossal mortar and pestle from a side cabinet.

The cultivators of the Affinage Badinage Sect blanched, and began to scream for mercy, crying out that they were tasteless and French. Hong silenced them with a look.

Mu, however, was equally concerned. He coughed, and increased the volume of his own voice with qi. “Respectfully, sir, I would rather not eat bread of ground bones. I hope that’s not a problem.”

The giant looked confused.

“Ah no, no. That wouldn’t be right, now would it? Grinding up someone like that. Even if they have been a spot o’ bother. But it ain’t their fault, you know - they just weren't raised right. Give ‘em the proper bildung - that’s cultivation, you know - and they’ll turn out right as rain.”

Three people breathed a sigh of relief. Hong just blinked, as silent as the drooling Curdsley.

Mu brought his hands together in supplication. “I thank you greatly, and you’re perfectly correct. As the great Mr. Rogers once said, ‘Deep within us— no matter who we are— there lives a feeling of wanting to be lovable, of wanting to be the kind of person that others like to be with. And the greatest thing we can do is to let people know that they are loved and capable of loving.’”

The giant blinked slowly, a massive smile sliding across his features.

“I could tell you were a good one; you know your Mr. Rogers. I always said to my ma’ that if instead o’ worrying about their outer dignity, cultivators worried ‘bout their inner dignity, they would be much better off. ‘It’s not the honours and the prizes and the fancy outsides ah life that ultimately nourish our souls, it’s the knowing that we can be trusted, that we never have to fear the truth, that the bedrock of our very being is firm.’” And Mu and he shared the look of all those who have been initiated into the secret truth.

“So,” said Hong, hefting his comically oversized hammer, “if you have no plans for them, would you like me to take care of them?”

The three cultivators (Curdsley had finally awakened) blanched once more.

“Aww, you don't need to do that. Now that they're not buzzing about like a bunch of hellish mosquitoes they're really rather cute.”

And he gave them a boop on the head with one massive finger.

“Leave ‘em to me and I'll ensure they get the education they never had.”

“Well, if they say they'll behave…”

“We'll behave! We'll behave!” Cried the cultivators desperately.

That particular problem dealt with, Hong moved onto his repairs.

Thankfully the giant had a #64: Regular Group Service Plan (held in common with the Giants of Cloud Giant Valley), so they could skip over the planning stages and proceed straight into construction.

It proved to be an excellent learning opportunity on Mu’s part - he'd been waiting for an opportunity to see Hong use his Large Scale Construction Secret Technique. Today he had his chance.

Hong kept the nearly six foot long nails hovering the air by means of his qi, then proceeded to hammer them into the wood with his comically oversized hammer. It was the levering of the wood itself, however, that most interested Mu, as Hong handled and manoeuvred materials dozens of times his size with nothing but his spiritual senses. It was a fascinating demonstration of an innate and largely habituated skill at geometric visualisation - and one which Mu paid close attention to, taking notes for his own cultivation in future.

Work proceeded swiftly, and it wasn't long until they finished, saying goodbye to the giant and his three somewhat reluctant adoptees.

Their journey back was mostly uneventful. There was a brief scare where they thought they might have to fight cultivators dismantling a bridge, but then they realised it was only demons rebuilding a bridge. The demons waved hello and asked the pair if they wouldn’t like to join them in running a soup kitchen for the poor later, but Hong politely waved them off before continuing on into town.

He had no business in town, not at the moment. His only business was with the inn in which he was staying and to which he was returning. He had offered to treat Mu to a nice dinner, as thanks for the assistance with the cultivators earlier.

They went out to a nice soup joint, and were just finishing their meal when the door clicked open. The magistrate came bursting through the door, his hair frazzled. His eyes focused on the already increasingly despondent Hong.

“At last, there you are! You have to help!”