Yung was now a famous person, cradling the one fox to rule them all, and people gave them a wide berth the moment they appeared in vision. From madlanders to natives to the out-of-town visitors, they all whispered deeds of disrespect and nods of regard in hushed voices.
A little boy waved. Yung waved back. The boy ran away with his arms raised high.
The night bazaar unfolded before them, reminiscent of the bustling Arabian markets of old. An enchanting tapestry of sights and scents greeted their senses as they ventured deeper into the labyrinthine rows, amidst the constant sound of calling and haggling, metal wares clanking and ceramics being moved. Tables adorned with arrays of treasures beckoned, each one showcasing a cornucopia of herbs, spices, and exotic parts from the monstrous fiends in the forest.
Amongst the vibrant chaos, large cubbies lined the walls, adorned with wares of shrewdly skilled businessmen offering intricate vases and finely woven carpets. The air itself was alive with tantalising aromas, drifting from the bustling restaurants where skilled chefs conjured culinary delights that tantalised the taste buds of the passersby.
As Yung looked up, the night sky became a canvas of wonders, cloaked in a patchwork of cloth, letting the starry-night sky peek through in only scant glimpses. Each vendor had painstakingly adorned their own section of the sky with unique murals depicting fearsome fiends and revered cultivators, capturing the essence of the world in their minds. Illuminating the scene were lamps that cast a warm, inviting orange glow, suspended from eaves and corners.
Yet, it was not only the traditional fiend-fat lamps that lent their light to the bazaar. Vibrant hues erupted from every direction, casting an otherworldly glow upon the surroundings. Reds, violets, blues, greens—each colour pulsated with its own captivating allure. Elaborate arrays carved upon jades and glowing fiendcores adorned cages and stalls, creating a dazzling spectacle that transformed the night bazaar into a realm of shimmering enchantment.
A celestial mosaic, nothing but perfect for Yung's first-ever date with his first-ever girlfriend.
Yung had thought he'd be more nervous. But the events of the sect recruitments had tired his nerves, and all that was left was hopeful optimism for some hours of quality time.
"Damn, this is tasty," Yung said, taking a big bite from the charcoal-grilled mystery meat skewer and gulping it down with an animated blush. He did not go into any restaurant and stuck to the street vendors. The wisdom of the ancients suggested that this was where the real flavours danced, and the meat did not prove them wrong. It tasted like turmeric grilled turkey with the texture of squid. The savoury umami was underlined but not undercut by the slightly funky gaminess. Like dry-aged meat, pickled and cooked.
He took another bite and held the skewer towards Su Nanya. The vixen nibbled, then looked at him weirdly.
"What's wrong?" Yung asked.
"Such is phallus meat; it would not do much to supplement your yang."
Yung stopped chewing. "Christ!"
"Though it is a good Essence qi supplement. We shall partake in more."
"Uh, sure. I-I don't need it." Yung washed his mouth with large gulps of water as the vixen finished the skewer with dainty grace. His face had turned green, but damn was the meat tasty.
After that, he cowardly resolved to stick to fish if the owners couldn't disclose which body part the meat was from. But most could, and his puny resolve was broken by the cartoon stake he was now eating, held by a giant cartoon bone.
"How are our ears?" Su Nanya asked.
Yung had found a gleaming red ribbon with golden lace. It cost enough to buy an Imperfect Heaven 1st grade common-class artefact. But it was worth it.
"Perky." He said, carefully tying it around her ear after thoroughly washing his hands.
Yung noticed that not many people grasped the golden fox's real identity. But enough did for no ruffian to be dumb enough to accost them.
There were a few mean-looking ones having a meal by a restaurant they were passing by, causing a ruckus. Looks like the poor owner had no hopes of getting them to pay.
Yung recognised two of the faces. Wang Gangbao and one other girl who had also failed the test. These two had touched the sphere in succession, and Wang Gangbao now wore the same chef’s garb he did back then, as did the girl wear her waitress dress. Yung assumed that if they weren’t siblings—and they probably were not—then they were partners.
"Haha! Chef boy, more wine. Don't worry. After this, you'll be joining our Divine Hawk Gang. Those big sects couldn't see your talent, but under my, this daddy Divine Hawk's mighty wings, you'll be in Unfolding Heaven in no time. Ain't that right, boys?" Hollered the meanest, ugliest-looking thug.
"Hell ya!"
"Ain't no man beef enough to mess with us, ay!"
"We loyal, brother. We gon protect yer wifey too."
"Best two-for-one deal ya can get. Hahaha."
Another loud ruckus as wine was thrown about in more quantities than their creepy curses. The pedestrians moved away, throwing the bunch stink eyes.
"What're ya looking at?" One of the goons yelled.
No mundane was ballsy enough to speak up.
Yung hated this. The bullying, yes, but more than that—
Su Nanya shook her foxy head.
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Blessed... She really does remind me of Moira. I gotta stop thinking this. Yung gave the fox one last hug after crouching down.
And then she was gone.
I miss her already… I-Is this toxic? Am I being a loser?
Yung took one last look at the so-called Divine Hawk Gang. They were leaving, and the restaurant porch remained a mess. The old owner was too afraid to ask for pay, but at least no real harm was done.
Yung put back the scene recording token and walked away. The night bazaar had more to offer, and he would take what he could, despite their date being rudely interrupted by honoured mother.
Honoured mother? What the—
Yung shivered at his involuntary thought.
But he shook it away, and kept browsing the wares. By luck, he actually found pellets for his Heart qi crossbow.
"Brother Madlander, these are rare goods," the merchant rubbed his hands in that slimy merchant manner. "Have to ship 'em in from way east. I really can't give up a pouch for less than three bronzecast spirit stones."
"I'll give you two! Two hundred lesser spirit stones are more than enough for a pack of twenty." Yung kept a read on the man's empathic link. He didn’t really want for cash, but it was a good chance to get out of his comfort zone and practice making deals.
The negotiations went on, and by the end of it, the merchant was sweating with one and a half ironcast spirit stones—that is, fifteen hundred lesser spirit stones in his pocket, and Yung walked away with a large cache of Heart qi crossbow pellets.
The pellets didn't have any special effects, not inherently. They would hit the target with force multiplied by Heart qi, and were expendable. Although the merchant mentioned that there might be surprises depending on the particular flavour of the Heart qi cultivator’s Heart qi ‘aspect’, but this wasn’t guaranteed. Some disciple of some battle temple had made extras, yet there really was not a market.
Yung aimlessly roamed the bazaar after putting the cache of pellets inside his new storage ring. The auction hall had done well on their promise, but they couldn't find more Heart qi artefacts to pay off the due yet.
Although, the elder had notified Yung of a particular 'alter' they had chanced upon. It was Imperfect Heaven grade rare class, and apparently, Yaoguais and Heart qi cultivators could do some freaky manoeuvres with a proper totem inscribed alter. Yung had thought it over and told them to buy it. Again, he wasn't in need of cash.
Because he had a rich girlfriend.
Who he was starting to miss even more now.
Is it the Essence qi that's making me feel lonely? That primordial yang and yin bonding thing? Yung thought, playing with one of the pellets. It was a carved-up Void Jade. Judging by the size, one Void Jade unit could be made into two dozen of these pinky-nail-sized ammunition. Or is it the hormones?… Oh boy. I'm in trouble, aren't I?
Yung wasn't a Origin qi cultivator, but all living beings had Origin qi. It was lifeforce itself, and Essence qi was the Origin qi of procreation, healing, and pair bonding. At least that's what Yung had deduced.
In other words, it wouldn't be surprising if Origin qi and Essence qi had far-reaching consequences for a cultivator's endocrine system, neuroplasticity, and emotional regulation.
Kissing and cuddling did more than a minimum to refine his Essence qi, or primordial yang. Not to mention how these acts of intimacy also released neurotransmitters such as dopamine, oxytocin, and serotonin. No way these two seemingly separate processes were not interconnected in some way.
And they also sped up the very progress of True qi conversion. As for Heart qi refinement, Yung had to actively channel the Foxfire Creek heart sutra while 'cultivating' with Nyanya. So while it was a bit of multitasking, the output was magnitudes more efficient than regular meditation. It was eerily similar to the Tantric Sexual Coupling of his old world, but with more than a thousand percent increase in 'productivity', he would not complain.
Yung bought a few more skewers, giving the aunty selling grilled-fiend-genitalia meat a wide berth. The scent of spices clung to everything, and no matter how much he ate, his stomach would start to growl in less than ten minutes. Yung touched his belly, but there wasn't any flab. No abs either, but he didn't want a dad bod. His mind wandered back to the restaurant with Wang Gangbao.
Weird name, Gangbao. It was definitely the word for the large-handled spoon with a cup-shaped bowl used to scoop out soup. A ladle.
The boy had a big nose, thin brows, and a wide temple. His hair was neatly kept, and so were his nails. His clothes were tidy, but they did have oil stains.
Those thugs left. I walked away because they didn't need help.
He convinced himself, but Yung wouldn't know. Even when he was exploring the city, he actively avoided places where tragedies occurred. The ones he saw, the state of the slum near the Dirt stream and the beggars loitering the market square, squeezed his heart.
He could not handle it. Out of sight, out of mind. He could help from a distance, without getting involved.
By the time he noticed, his feet had again taken him to Wang Gangbao’s restaurant. The night was but over. In an hour or two, it would be dawn.
The bazaar was starting to wrap up. Daytime vendors were coming to take their place.
It was then that Yung heard a loud crash.
"This bitch!" Came a throaty shout from the alley beside Wang Gangbao's restaurant. The place was a mess. The wooden signboard was smashed, and so were the outdoor tables. An old man was lying on the floor on the doorstep. Bleeding.
Yung's heartbeat shot up with the screech of chalk against granite. He ran to the prone old man. The owner, he recognised.
Please be unconscious. Please!
No other pedestrians and vendors helped. The fear on their faces was perceptible.
Yung placed his finger on the man's pulse and sighed in relief.
"Call the guards!" He yelled.
"Z-Ziyou Yung?!" One of the bystanders recognised him. His gaze changed, and as if finding a bucket of courage, the man nodded and ran, shouting the Youjin name.
Yung had already sent a transmission to Youjin Liu.
"Bastard! Pin him down. Ungrateful brat." Yung recognised this voice. It was the bald-headed leader of the so-called Divine Hawk gang.
Another scream. This time female, and a gurgling voice he remembered as Wang Gangbao's.
On instinct, he went into total empathic isolation. The world dimmed. Silky flew out of his dantian, snarling. Yung ran to the alley. It was dark. Not the pleasant dark of the night sky, but the dark of the shadows where evil dwelled.
The bald cultivator was pinning Wang Gangbao down, kneeing his back, and holding a hand over his mouth. His other hand held a knife, which was raised up. It was about to go down with a clear trajectory towards Wang Gangbao's neck.
Behind the man were two other lackeys. One had his pants down. Wang Gangbao's lover was nearly naked, the third lackey holding her from behind. The girl's tattered robes were tossed aside. She was unconscious, foam coming from her bruised face as her wounded body bled.
It would take too long to load the crossbow. The pink heart ring needed at least a few seconds to charge. While his arm was mid-swing, Yung summoned the uncommon-class Imperfect Heaven 1st-grade spear. And the moment the Heart qi artefact touched his fingers, he fed it everything.
The knife went down.
Yung threw the spear.
Hit the thugs. Please don't die. Don’t hit the vitals! Don’t die! He begged in his heart. Screaming, he cried!
But Yung didn't have a throwing hand, not to mention his unorthodox manoeuvre.
The spear swivelled up, whether because of wind or his untrained aim; he didn't know. The tip was about to puncture through the bald man's head.
Yung paled, his knees going weak. At the same time, a tiny pain of True qi left his sea of consciousness into thin air.
The spear tip hit the bald man's bald head with the flat of its blade. The metallic clank, followed by the sound of bone shattering, was deafening. Yet it worked! The bald man's eyes rolled over, and he collapsed on top of Wang Gangbao.
The spear then flew wide, spinning after the impact like a windmill.
The two lackeys were startled by the sound and looked towards their leader. The one with the pants-down drugged-up-erection turned just in time to move straight into the rampaging spear-mill’s path.
Like an industrial sausage slicer, the sharp, whirling tip tore straight through his thingy.
The banana flew high.
The man screamed.
The spear butt went down.
The tip, still going up, barely missed the unconscious girl in its rotation because the remaining lackey was so startled that he had dropped his hold on her, and was about to unsheathe his sword to block the spear shaft now wheeling up after another revolution.
He missed.
The shaft caught him in the jaws.
There was a crack.
Because of the hit to his jaws and the opposite force, the spear shaft bounced down with a violent jerk, the sharp tip making a complete arc in mid-air. Then it dropped down, and with a drilling turn, the blade aimed straight at the comatose man’s nethers.
There was a wet squelch, and then there was no more.