In olden times, Xufu O’Paddyhaddy’s (version one) would have opened into an entryway, where customers would take off their shoes and be greeted by a server. Then they would enter the main body of the restaurant, take their seats, and order their delicious noodles.

No more could this be done.

This was not merely because the restaurant was no longer in operation; it was because the entryway no longer existed. Instead Hong and Mu were confronted by an endless sea of hallways, extending far into the distance. They criss-crossed over one another, their appearance swimming in Mu’s vision as sizes changed and shapes reformed themselves.

There was a slithering feeling underfoot as the halls moved about, two crumbling into dust and three more rising to take their place. Ghostly cobwebs drifted through the halls, weird forms moving alongside them in the shadows.

The laughter had died down, to be replaced by whispers of a vaguely insidious nature, malformed figures murmuring cryptic curses as they flickered in and out of existence.

Hong walked down the central hall confidently, arms still tucked into his voluminous sleeves. Mu followed, broadsword held at the ready. The whispers led them on, growing more and more giddy as the pair progressed.

More and more giddy, and more and more frustrated, as Hong stopped at every oddity and anomaly to take notes on its structure and nature. His pocketbook filled with jottings as he analysed the formations and materials of the mutated noodle shop, seeking to find the key to replicating the design.

The voices sought to hurry him along, but the unflappable Hong ignored them, wiping away the strange ghostly figures and ignoring the misshapen forms. He proved momentarily inconvenienced as the floor gave way under them, sending Mu and him hurtling to the depths below, but this was more because it ruffled his robe than because he was personally distressed.

They landed in some sort of basement, reams of tunnels pouring out on every side. A lumpish beast with a body of luminescent white and a carven face rose up, roaring at them. Ghoulish clawed arms extended from its hideous body, its pumpkinlike face howling.

Hong wiped it aside as if cleaning a cobweb, and the beast disappeared.

“They’re no more than cheap tricks - good, wouldn’t want anyone to be seriously inconvenienced while using the noodle shop. Something to keep the kids entertained, too,” Hong muttered, as he continued to walk placidly down the hall.

Mu unfroze himself after a moment, the terror finally leaving his body, and ran after Hong. The latter was still walking as if he had all the time in the world, occasionally eviscerating an apparition with his mini finger sword as he murmured about noodle shop structural design.

Eventually, they heard a noise from far ahead of them. Not that of a ghost or ghoulie, but a human being - two, specifically, and very familiar were they. The pair were squabbling, arguing about who had gotten who into this mess.

Hong rounded the corner, footsteps as light as the wind, and raised his arms wide in greeting.

“Yuan, Xian. It’s wonderful to see the two of you are still in good health.”

Xian froze, her face mixed between fear and fury, but the expression of Yuan could only be described as pure relief.

For all he had originally been afraid of Hong, the latter’s continuously saving him from a horrible death at the hands of Xian Xinyue had made the sight of him, rather ironically, an endearing figure.

When Yuan Shi bowed to Hong Yu, it was with full sincerity, as befitting a master and his apprentice. “It is an honour to see you, master, and this one humbly thanks you for having come to save him and his beloved.”

Xian gagged.

“For you to have wandered into such a dangerous environment shows a rare regard and courage among cultivators; I am in your debt.”

Hong tucked his arms once more into his sleeves, his face impassive.

“Indeed. Tell me, why are you and your beloved” - Xian gagged - “in such dire straits?”

“We were here looking for the famed Wok of the Mysterious Light, which legend says was last seen in the possession of the final owner of Xufu O’Paddyhaddy’s, when we heard a crash behind us. The door - what was left of it - had been annihilated outright, destroyed utterly, thrashed completely - well, you get the point. Into the wreckage of the restaurant came six cultivators, radiating a power such as I have felt only once before.”

“And when was that?” Hong asked. Yuan looked at him in confusion, shrugged, and decided to continue his narrative.

“The foremost of the cultivators was sniffing something, tracing it along the floor until she reached Xian’s feet, whereupon she looked up and swore. ‘You,’ she said, ‘you don’t look like a noodle shop repairman.’”

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Yuan motioned for his ‘lady love,’ who reluctantly took up the thread of the plot.

“Of course, I told her I wasn’t one, whereupon she asked me why I was trailing its scent. I told her I thought that was really a rather rude question, and she grinned - an awful grin, it was, her entire mouth full of sharpened teeth. ‘Oh, my apologies. How about we take you back with us, and we can go over our questions properly, with the right etiquette, and more… in-depth, shall we say.’

“I backed up hurriedly. It took no especially profound senses on my part to realise she meant me ill, and fewer still to realise that she and her fellows outclassed me in every conceivable way. She got back onto her feet, her arms trailing across the floor, the fake grin still plastered to her face. ‘Now now dearie, it’s best not to resist.’”

Here Xian blushed, embarrassed with herself. “I’m sorry. I’m afraid to say I was afraid.”

“Don’t be,” Hong grunted, “if more cultivators showed caution earlier, there’d be far less stupid fights, and even fewer pointless deaths.”

Xian nodded, taking the advice in good stead. “Thank you. Yes, I was afraid, and I backed up in a futile retreat… or what should have been a futile retreat. But at the last moment, just as the cultivator’s arms were extending - far beyond the length of a normal human; it revolts me just thinking about it - as her arms were extending, Yuan tossed a bag of sand at her.”

Xian kept her confusion to herself as she narrated this. It still made no sense - in her last life, Yuan hadn’t done her the slightest kindness. He’d been the worst fiancé conceivable, cheating on her, lying to her, betraying her. Yet in this life he was, if not the model of a good potential husband, at least a good person. It was as if he’d become a totally different person.

“It was no normal sand. Whatever it was, she howled and cursed and began to claw at her eyes, screaming in pain. Her compatriots leapt over top of her, weapons outstretched, but Yuan and I were already running. There was an explosion - and, well, it must have set off some sort of defensive formation long dormant in the ruins, because this happened.”

And she waved her arms about the hallway they were in, as the malformed shapes howled in impotent fury about them.

Hong stroked his wisp of a beard. “Well, not quite. At least not a long dormant formation - whoever laid this did so recently. Still, your narration made one thing absolutely clear: someway, somehow, this is my fault. I never let people get into danger on my behalf, so-”

And here he cut off, jumping to the side. A half moment later the space where he had been standing warped, and then exploded. Hong landed ten feet down the tunnel, then did another leap, then a roll, then three bounds.

Each time he was mere milliseconds ahead of his attacker, who ripped through the space behind and around him with a series of combusting portals.

Purple qi arced and screeched, ragged edges of space tearing as the portals flowed into or even annihilated each other.

There was a curse and the sound of human laughter. Far beyond their sight and around the corner someone with a harsh, bitter voice began to mock and jeer what was evidently a colleague. Her discordant tone clashed against their ears. “You call that an attack? Here, let me show you what a real skill is.”

There was a rumble underfoot, the ground shaking violently, before the entire cave tunnel fragmented and fractured, collapsing into shards as its inhabitants plummeted into a chasm below.

The chasm was another of those oddities that should never have existed in a noodle shop in the middle of town - an endless pit, with no bottom discernible even to cultivator eyes, its rough-hewn sides were fragmented by handholds, ledges, and entries to other tunnels.

Xian panicked as she fell through the air, trying and failing to reach out for the side of the walls. Ledges and caverns opened to either side of her, but she was ever out of reach, and the floor appeared infinitely far below.

Was this it - was this the final moment of the tale of Xian Xinyue…? To die on impacting a cave floor or, worse, to die of starvation after failing to impact a cave floor?

There was a rushing sound, and then she felt herself grabbed in a pair of arms. Yuan grinned down at her as he hung sideways from the chasm wall. The Young Master of the Candied Lampwick Sect had used his Flickering Footwork Technique to save her. “Sorry about that. Took me by surprise. Now, let’s-”

Then he had to use his footwork to leap out of the way, jumping from one ledge to another, as a giant spike sprang from the wall where he'd been standing.

Another spike sprang out, then another, as Yuan was chased farther and farther away from any cavern opening, and kept ever in the centre of the chasm. He cursed, tightening his hold around the still stunned Xian.

If he could only get a hold of a ledge, something to jump off of as he propelled himself toward a cavern… anything, but the walls were lethal and he knew as little of flying in midair as did Xian… then he felt himself picked up by somebody, as Hong swept by on a rope hanging from nothing in the middle of the air and picked up both Yuan and Xian.

“Noodle Shop Repair Sect Movement Technique: Repair the Rafters,” Hong observed drily, as he moved them towards a generously-sized ledge with no more than a small pile of rubble to block it. He landed easily on the ledge, which in turn opened up onto another cavern. More tunnels were visible in the distance, the endless nexus spreading farther into the dark.

“Designed it when I studied under the Jungle Canteen Repair Sect, while I was on campaign in the far south.” He continued, tone laconic, as he put Yuan and Xian back onto their feet.

“Now there was a repair campaign! Had to keep the canteens in the treetops because of the hordes of Snarflocks. Nasty blighters - eat everything they can get their hooks into - but can’t climb. The restaurant guests used to reach the canteens by the bridges, but of course you can’t rely on bridges when cultivators are involved. So I-”

Mu slammed into the rubble with a bang, the impact of his explosion creating a crater some twenty feet wide. He disappeared under the sea of stone.

Yuan was worried for a moment, before Mu burst forth from the debris roaring.

The burly cultivator was furious, his eyes literally red with rage as he hurled the remnants of the rock from off him. He crushed a boulder in his path like so much cardboard, and for the first time since he’d met the man it occurred to Yuan that maybe some Young Masters deserved their vaunted social role. He would not want to be the sort of unjust demonic bastard who ended up on the other side of Mu’s sword.

The Young Master of Jarnvidr Eastern Branch swung his greatsword in a circle, spitting onto the floor.

“Stinking transmigrators.”