The alchemy shop was closed. Like, really closed. Heavy wooden shutters were bolted across the storefront, and a hastily scrawled note was nailed to the door.
“No one from the Shu Long Wastes branch of the Qing Clan allowed,” I read aloud, my voice a mix of disbelief and mounting panic.
'Seriously? An entire clan?' Why the shit had I made this garbage up while under the influence of mental derpitude?!
It seemed that during my little psychedelic joyride, 'Kong Di Qing' hadn't just insulted a few high-ranking cultivators. He'd apparently invented a whole damn family history, complete with a prestigious lineage and a territorial claim that was about as real as a unicorn rodeo.
And now, thanks to my cheat ability's flair for the dramatic, I was stuck being persona non grata to what sounded like a very powerful, very pissed-off group of people.
The herbalist! She was my only hope.
I practically sprinted back to the woman's stall, my heart hammering against my ribs like a hyperactive drummer. She looked up as I approached, her eyes widening with a mix of pity and concern.
"I will sell you what you need," she said, her voice barely above a whisper, "but you need to leave this town. Before..." She trailed off, her gaze flickering towards the city gates, where a commotion was brewing.
"Yes, yes, I understand," I said, trying to project an air of calm I definitely didn't feel. "I Just require a healing potion, and I'll be on my way."
She bustled around the stall, her hands moving with practiced efficiency as she gathered a small clay bottle filled with a viscous, dark green liquid. It smelled about as appealing as a swamp monster’s gym socks.
“Drink it slowly,” she advised, handing me the bottle. “It's best for slow, steady healing. It won’t fix your right away like those fancy pills.”
No kidding. At this rate, I'd be lucky if I could outrun a snail, let alone a vengeful clan of cultivators with a bone to pick with me, or possibly a mountain of bones, considering the whole ‘Shu Long Wastes’ thing.
I am also freaking worried about something.
Does the shu Long Wastes even exist?!
Also, if it does, how many people had I just shat on by claiming a clan that either doesn’t exist or now hates my guts for claiming to be part of them.
Or will, I don’t fucking know, man!
I ignored my mounting panic and I thanked the woman profusely. My body tried to haggle but I shoved that instinct aside, overriding my initial impulse to haggle. This kind soul deserved a medal, not my double-speak made of technique and stupid! Before she could protest, I pressed a hefty bag of gold into her hand.
“For your kindness, and your discretion,” I said, hoping my voice conveyed the genuine gratitude I felt.
She opened her mouth to object, but I was already hurrying away, the potion clutched tightly in my hand, my stomach churning with a mix of anxiety and the idea that questionable herbal concoction, by its smell, probably tastes like ass-sausage. I’d deal with the suspicion caused by using a nearly unlimited supply of gold later. Right now, survival was top of the fuckin' mountain of priorities!
I reached the city gates just as the sun began to crest over the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and gold. It should have been a beautiful sight. Instead, it felt like the universe was setting the mood for a particularly dramatic escape sequence.
The gates, usually bustling with merchants and travelers, were now a chaotic bottleneck of sweaty-humanity. Soldiers, their faces grim, barked orders as they scrutinized every passerby. My pulse quickened as I caught sight of a wanted poster plastered on a nearby wall.
There, next to a crudely drawn rendition of Jang Ku's scowling visage, was a newer addition: a sketch of my current, entirely fabricated, face.
"Kong Di Qing," the caption declared in bold strokes, "Wanted for Offending the Shu Clan Young Master."
Apparently, insulting people while tripping was a serious offense in this world. Who knew? After getting the shit kicked in by mr. 4th that I forgot the damn name of already, I certainly did! But too damn late!
I uncorked the potion, pinching my nose as the aroma assaulted my senses. It tasted even worse than it smelled: a horrifying blend of wood chips, sewer water, and what I could only describe as a hint of dankest orge armpit sweat for that extra kick. I choked it down, hoping the herbalist knew what she was doing because right now, I was all-in on this "slow and steady" healing plan.
Grimacing, I ducked into a nearby alleyway, the potion's effects already working their strange magic on my bruised and battered body. My disguise timer ticked down to eight hours, a reminder that time was running the goddamn fuck out!
Okay, Kong Di Qing, time to think fast. What does a wanted man, armed with a notebook full of gibberish, a suspicious amount of gold, and a rapidly depleting supply of Qi, do in a world determined to make him Public Enemy Number One?
Then the sound of marching boots approached.
Did I just-
Stolen novel; please report.
The universe, it seemed, was a firm believer in making my life a goddamn comedy where everyone was laughing except me!
Because hiding in a goddamn alleyway, two feet away from a "Wanted" poster with my newly acquired face plastered on it, while actual guards patrolled the streets?
DID I SERIOUSLY JUST DO THAT?!
Yeah, that qualified as a Class-A, gold-plated, "What the hell was I thinking?" moment.
Three pairs of boots, polished to a shine that would put my old patent leather stage shoes to shame, came to a stop right outside the alley’s entrance. I pressed myself further back into the shadows, my heart hammering against my ribs like a death metal drummer auditioning for a polka band.
“He couldn’t have gotten far,” a gruff voice rumbled, close enough that I could practically smell the man’s morning porridge. “The captain said he’s injured, and probably disoriented. Check every nook and cranny.”
“Disoriented” was putting it mildly. I was starting to think my entire existence since that lightning bolt was a fever dream concocted by a brain that had given up on reality and decided to write a really complicated, lore heavy fantasy novel instead.
Two of the guards moved on into the alley depths, their footsteps echoing off the brick walls. The third, however, lingered at the entrance to the alleyway, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword.
I peeked cautiously around a stack of crates, my eyes adjusting to the dim light. He was taller than the others, broader in the shoulders, his face a mask of stoic vigilance. Six levels into Meridian Forging, I estimated, based on the subtle hum of Qi radiating from him.
And I, Kong Di Qing, master of deception and accidental insult comedian, was a measly first level with a dwindling supply of time and a nasty suspicion that I’d make a terrible action hero.
Yeah, I was officially more fucked than… well, let’s just say that if I were a Thanksgiving turkey, I'd be the one they'd forgotten in the back of the freezer, freezer-burned and about to be tossed out with yesterday’s leftovers, while my more fortunate brethren strutted around the White House Rose Garden, basking in the presidential pardon.
My eyes darted around the alleyway, searching for an escape route. There were none. Just a dead end formed by the towering city wall, a solid expanse of brick and mortar that separated civilization from… well, whatever lay beyond those walls. Probably forests. Maybe mountains. Possibly a giant, carnivorous squirrel with a taste for runaway DJs.
I was ten feet from freedom, if you counted "being lost in the wilderness with a rapidly depleting disguise" as freedom.
If only I could jump it. If only I had some hidden acrobatic talent, some supernatural leaping ability that would make even the most agile gymnast jealous.
I had a goddamn movement technique in my head that wasn't about looking GODDAMN PRETTY!
Fuck, you Jang Ku!
If only—
The alleyway warped and twisted, brick and mortar dissolving into a kaleidoscope of neon colors and fractal patterns. The air thrummed with a bassline so heavy it felt like my own heartbeat was trying to escape my chest. "Jump! Jump! Jump!" the phantom beat pounded in my skull, an irresistible command from a cosmic DJ who clearly had a thing for repetition.
And then I was hurtling upwards, a rocket propelled by pure, unadulterated weirdness. The notebook, a constant companion in these chaotic excursions, appeared in my hand, flipping open as if guided by an unseen force. My fingers, no longer my own, danced across the page, a frenzied ballet of scribbles and symbols that looked like the lovechild of ancient runes and a toddler's crayon masterpiece.
“Lemme jump, lemme JUMP!” the voice in my head shrieked, a bizarre blend of my own terror and the overly enthusiastic J-pop vocals from that damn "Great Cleric" anime.
A figure materialized beside me, a muscular dude with spiky hair and a determined glint in his eye. The martial artist who trained the main character from the anime, grinned, holding out a bottle filled with an unnaturally glowing black liquid. "Drink up, rookie!" he yelled over the wind, his voice a bizarre echo of the anime's dub and sub at the same time. "Formula X will boost your jump power to the max!"
Before I could even sputter a protest, the bottle was shoved into my mouth, the sickly sweet liquid burning its way down my throat. The world lurched, gravity seeming to flip on its axis as I was propelled even higher, past the clouds, past the atmosphere, into the vast, star-studded expanse of space.
And there she was, a celestial vision of beauty and absurdity. Beauty because she looked like an actual-real-life-representation of Ai Hoshino, dead-mom idol extraordinaire from "Oshi no Ko," her form magnified to the size of a small moon, her eyes twinkling with a mischievous light. She struck a pose, her iconic pink dress swirling around her as she launched into a perfectly choreographed dance routine, her movements echoing the haunting melody of the anime's opening theme- you know, the middle part no one was ready for at all. It was a performance for a nonexistent audience, a cosmic concert for an audience of one: me, the bewildered, increasingly nauseous, DJ-turned-cultivator-turned-interstellar tourist.
I think we can all agree that this whole damn thing is absurd, though.
And then, as if the universe was determined to outdo itself in the "what-the-actual-fuck" department, the moon itself chimed in.
It wasn't a gentle lunar glow or a poetic whisper. No, the moon decided to go full-on existential crisis, its cratered surface contorting into a giant, screaming face.
"I SOLD MY GODDAMN MEMORIES AND ALL I GOT WAS A HAREM OF BEAUTIFUL WOMEN WHO LOVE AND ADORE ME! BUT- AND SUPERPOWERS, BUT- WHO EVEN AM I- AND A KIND LITTLE SISTER WHO LOOKS OUT FOR ME- , BRO- I'M ALSO SUPER WEALTHY AND COMFORTABLE TOO?! ACTUALLY MY LIFE IS GODDAMN FULFILLING!! FUCK WHOEVER I WAS BEFORE, THIS ROCKS!" it roared, its voice a distorted echo of Kelvin, the protagonist from "Black Summoner."
The stars seemed to tremble at the moon's outburst, as if even the celestial bodies weren't immune to this symphony of madness.
And then, with a jarring transition that made whiplash look like a gentle caress, I found myself standing in an apple orchard. Not just any orchard, mind you, but a cosmic orchard, stretching as far as the eye could see, its trees laden with glowing, pulsating fruit. The air hummed with a strange energy, a mix of potent Qi and the lingering scent of… caramel and chocolate cake?
I took a tentative bite of an apple, the taste a bizarre blend of sweet, tart, and a hint of something metallic, like licking a battery.
The apple turned into a mostly-yellow rainbow-spider and crawled away, big googly ass eyes staring at me as if to ask me, bro? Why did you do that?! That hurt!
The music, that chaotic blend of anime themes and my own internal "what-the-hell-is-happening" soundtrack, reached a fever pitch, then abruptly cut out, leaving a ringing silence in its wake.
I collapsed to the ground, utterly drained, my body feeling like it had been put through a cosmic washing machine on the spin cycle. The notebook, its pages filled with more gibberish, fell shut with a soft thud.
And then, I blacked out.
Again.
----------------------------------------
I awoke in a forest, While - again, being sniffed by something in the mud.
I took the liberty of raising my throbbing head and saw a big-ass boar that seemed like its teeth were, in fact, ready to bite into me as its mouth opened and leaned towards my face.
"Motherf-!"