The carriage wheels rolled over gravel, producing a monotonous yet hypnotic sound.
Qian Mo was in no hurry to return to Spirit Hall.
To him, this was more than just a journey home.
It was also a game called "hunting."
Inside the carriage, the atmosphere was somewhat subtle.
The newly acquired "little kitty," Zhu Zhuqing, huddled in a corner.
She hugged her knees with both hands, her body swaying slightly with the carriage's jolts.
Those cool cat pupils of hers kept drifting uncontrollably toward the youth reclining on the couch.
Fearful.
Yet curious.
Qian Mo half-closed his eyes and lounged lazily against the cushions.
He was pondering a very serious question.
In this world where cheaters ran rampant, being a quiet slacker seemed harder than ascending to heaven.
Who knew how much time passed.
The clamor of voices gradually became clearer.
The outline of a small border town came into view.
Above the city gates were three weathered characters.
Nuoding City.
Qian Mo raised a brow slightly.
They were here already?
The place where that Master who claimed to be "invincible in theory" met the cheating king who kept talking about "the way to death."
Yue Guan's bewitching face leaned over, his voice shrill.
"Your Highness, are we stopping in such a backwater place?"
Qian Mo waved a hand.
"Pass through."
He had no interest in those two.
He even found them somewhat unlucky.
However.
Fate had always loved playing jokes.
The carriage entered the main street.
Even through the heavy curtains, an extremely penetrating voice still drilled inside.
It carried a nauseatingly sour, rotten stench.
"Xiao San, you must remember."
"There are no useless martial souls, only useless Spirit Masters!"
Qian Mo lifted a corner of the curtain.
By the roadside.
A middle-aged man with a crew cut and a stiff expression stood with his hands behind his back, spittle flying as he spoke.
Before him stood a plainly dressed boy whose eyes held a hint of shrewdness.
The boy's face was full of admiration as he nodded fervently.
"Teacher, I'll remember it!"
"Is this the Ten Core Competencies of Martial Soul that you proposed? It's so profound!"
The corner of Qian Mo's mouth twitched.
A large-scale brainwashing session.
This Yu Xiaogang could only fool children who had never seen the world.
If he encountered a Spirit Master with even a little common sense, he would probably have been slapped long ago.
Just then.
The system notification abruptly rang out.
[Detected that the host has developed intense physiological disgust toward the lifeform "Yu Xiaogang."] [Passive skill "Bad Luck Halo" has automatically activated.] [Current level: Beginner Village Limited Edition.]
Qian Mo became interested.
He leaned against the window, watching the old man and the youth with great interest.
Since he had run into them.
It would seem inappropriate not to give them a meeting gift.
By the roadside.
Yu Xiaogang was speaking enthusiastically, his emotions running high.
He suddenly raised his right hand and pointed straight at the sky, as though he intended to trample heaven and earth beneath his feet.
"Xiao San, look!"
"The world of Spirit Masters is like these blue skies and white clouds!"
"And my theories are what will help you soar upward..."
Before he could finish.
A strange cry suddenly came from overhead.
"Coo—"
A huge flying soul beast happened to pass by.
It flew crookedly.
Clearly.
Its stomach was not doing too well.
The next second.
Its sphincter relaxed.
A brownish-yellow, highly viscous fluid howled downward under the acceleration of gravity.
Precise.
Swift.
Without warning.
Yu Xiaogang had his head tilted back and his mouth wide open, ready to say the word "wings."
"Splat!"
The world fell silent.
That unmentionable mass landed dead center and perfectly filled his mouth.
There was even some left over, smearing across his nostrils and half his face.
Yu Xiaogang maintained his pose of pointing at the world.
Frozen in place.
His Adam's apple bobbed instinctively.
"Gulp."
He swallowed it.
Salty.
Slightly sour.
And it carried a fetid smell that had fermented for at least three days.
Immediately afterward.
His stomach spasmed violently.
"Bleurgh—!!!"
Yu Xiaogang bent over, clawing at his throat with both hands as he let out a heart-wrenching dry heave.
His formerly stiff face had turned Pig Liver Color.
Tang San beside him was completely dumbfounded.
One second, his teacher had been a beacon guiding his path through life.
The next, he had become someone swallowing a foreign object...
"Teacher!"
Tang San finally snapped back to his senses, a flash of anxiety passing through his eyes.
A teacher for a day, a father for life.
His father had eaten... suffered humiliation. How could a son stand idly by?
He pushed off with his feet and unleashed the Tang Sect Secret Arts he was proud of.
Ghost Shadow Perplexing Track!
With a flicker of his body, he rushed over to support him.
However.
The instant his Footsteps touched the ground.
For some reason, that smooth flagstone beneath his feet was ridiculously slippery.
As if it had been coated in ten-thousand-year whale oil.
Tang San's pupils constricted sharply.
His body instantly lost balance.
Inertia carried him backward.
And behind him.
Was a freshly dug cesspit, made for conveniently fertilizing the vegetable patch.
It was not large.
But its depth was impressive, and it was fully stocked.
"Purple Demon Eye!"
Tang San was horrified and tried to see his landing point clearly so he could adjust his body.
Unfortunately.
Before absolute bad luck, every cheat-like method was futile.
"Splash!"
Water splashed everywhere.
A murky yellow tide instantly swallowed this future God King.
Glug glug.
Several bubbles rose.
Tang San had died... oh no, he had sunk to the bottom.
Inside the carriage.
Deathly silence lasted for half a second.
Then.
"Hahahahahaha!"
Yue Guan pounded the floor without a shred of dignity, laughing so hard that he trembled like a flower in the wind, tears spraying from his eyes.
"I can't... oh, my..."
"This master and disciple pair... one's a food bucket, the other's a shit bucket... a perfect match! They're absolutely a perfect match!"
Although Gui Mei made no sound.
The black mist enveloping his body shook violently, clearly indicating that he had injured himself from holding back laughter.
In the corner.
Zhu Zhuqing's cat eyes widened.
Her small mouth hung slightly open, unable to close for a long time.
Was this... not too miserable?
She subconsciously looked toward Qian Mo.
The youth was still leaning by the window, his expression calm, as though none of this had anything to do with him.
But Zhu Zhuqing knew.
This was definitely no coincidence.
From Dai Mubai to this master and disciple pair.
Everyone who offended this youth, or made him unhappy, seemed to suffer unimaginable misfortune.
Was this...
The might of Spirit Hall's Holy Son?
Qian Mo withdrew his gaze and curled his lips in slight boredom.
"System, you're too uncreative."
"Bird droppings and cesspits again. Can't you come up with something more high-end?"
[Host, please be informed.] [This is the Beginner Village.] [They may not be fortunate enough to handle the high-end package. It might send them off directly and end the entire story.]
"Fine."
Qian Mo lay back down on the soft couch and waved to the coachman.
"Move on. The stench is too strong—it's fumigating my cat."
Zhu Zhuqing's body stiffened.
Her cheeks inexplicably grew hot.
Wh... who was your cat?
The horse carriage slowly picked up speed and left that "fragrant" street behind.
Only by the roadside remained
a middle-aged man kneeling on the ground and vomiting violently,
and a Youth bobbing up and down in a cesspit, questioning his life.
The setting sun sank westward.
It stretched their shadows long, longer still.
Bleak.
And absurd.
Before you continue