Passing Through Nuoding City, Master's Nightmare

The carriage wheels crunched over gravel, producing a monotonous, hypnotic rhythm.

Qian Mo was in no rush to return to Martial Soul Hall.

To him, this was more than just a journey home.

It was a game called "The Hunt."

Inside the carriage, the atmosphere was somewhat delicate.

The newly recruited "little kitten," Zhu Zhuqing, huddled in the corner.

She hugged her knees, her body swaying slightly with the jolts of the carriage.

Those cold, cat-like eyes kept drifting uncontrollably toward the youth lounging on the cushioned bench.

Fearful.

Yet curious.

Qian Mo half-closed his eyes, leaning lazily against the soft cushions.

He was pondering a very serious question.

In a world where overpowered freaks were a dime a dozen, trying to be a quiet, salted fish seemed harder than ascending to the heavens.

I do not know how much time had passed.

The clamor of human voices gradually became distinct.

The silhouette of a small border town came into view.

Above the city gate, three weathered characters were carved.

Nuoding City.

Qian Mo raised an eyebrow.

We're here already?

The place where that "theoretically invincible" Master and that "path to death" spouting cheat-king were destined to meet.

Yue Guan's flamboyant face leaned in, his voice shrill.

"Your Highness, should we stop in such a backwater place?"

Qian Mo waved a hand.

"Pass through."

He had no interest in these two people.

He even found them somewhat ominous.

However.

Fate has always had a penchant for jokes.

The carriage turned onto the main street.

Even through the thick curtains, a highly piercing voice managed to drill its way inside.

It carried a nauseating, pedantic stench.

"Little San, you must remember."

"There are no useless Martial Souls, only useless Soul Masters!"

Qian Mo lifted a corner of the carriage curtain.

On the side of the street.

A middle-aged man with a buzz cut and a rigid expression stood with his hands behind his back, spittle flying as he spoke.

Opposite him stood a boy in simple clothing, his eyes gleaming with a hint of shrewdness.

The boy's face was full of admiration, nodding like a pounding pestle.

"Teacher, I will remember it!"

"Is this the Ten Core Competencies of Martial Soul that you proposed? It's so profound!"

Qian Mo's mouth twitched.

A large-scale brainwashing session.

This Yu Xiaogang was only capable of fooling children who hadn't seen the world.

If it were any Soul Master with a modicum of common sense, they would have likely slapped him across the face long ago.

Just then.

The system's notification sound rang out abruptly.

[Detected that the host has developed a strong physiological aversion to the organism "Yu Xiaogang."]
[Passive skill "Bad Luck Halo" has been automatically triggered.]
[Current Level: Novice Village Limited Edition.]

Qian Mo grew interested.

He leaned against the window, watching the old man and the young boy with great amusement.

Since they had crossed paths.

It would seem rude not to offer a little welcoming gift.

On the street.

Yu Xiaogang was speaking with great enthusiasm, his emotions running high.

He suddenly raised his right hand, pointing straight at the sky, as if he were about to trample the very heavens and earth beneath his feet.

"Look, Little San!"

"The world of Spirit Masters is just like this blue sky and white clouds!"

"And my theories are the wings that will help you soar..."

Before he could finish his sentence.

A strange cry suddenly came from overhead.

"Coo—"

A massive flying Spirit Beast happened to be passing by.

It was flying crookedly.

Clearly.

Its stomach was not doing well.

The next second.

Its sphincter relaxed.

A lump of yellowish-brown, highly viscous fluid, driven by the acceleration of gravity, whistled downward.

Precise.

Swift.

Without any warning.

Yu Xiaogang was looking up, his mouth wide open, preparing to say the word "wings."

"Splat!"

The world fell silent.

That indescribable mass, neither deviating nor missing, precisely filled his mouth.

There was even enough left over to plaster his nostrils and half his face.

Yu Xiaogang remained in his pose of pointing out the path of the world.

Frozen in place.

His Adam's apple bobbed instinctively.

"Gulp."

He swallowed it.

It was salty.

With a hint of sourness.

And a stench like something that had been fermenting for at least three days.

Immediately after.

His stomach spasmed violently.

"Blegh--!!!"

Yu Xiaogang doubled over, clawing at his throat with both hands, letting out a heart-wrenching retch.

That face, originally stiff, was now flushed the color of a pig's liver.

Tang San, standing to the side, was completely stunned.

One second, he was a lighthouse guiding the direction of life.

The next, he had turned into someone who swallowed foreign objects...

"Teacher!"

Tang San finally snapped out of it, a flash of anxiety crossing his eyes.

A teacher for a day is a father for life.

If his father figure was eating... being humiliated, how could he, as a son, stand idly by?

He exerted force through his feet, unleashing his pride and joy, the secret art of the Tang Sect.

Ghost Shadow Perplexing Track!

His figure flickered as he prepared to rush over and help.

However.

The moment his foot landed.

The smooth bluestone slab beneath him was, for some reason, absurdly slippery.

It was as if it had been coated in ten-thousand-year whale oil.

Tang San's pupils constricted.

His body instantly lost its balance.

Inertia carried him falling backward.

And behind him.

Was a manure pit that had just been dug to make watering the vegetable patch easier.

Although it wasn't large.

It made up for it with an impressive depth and a full supply of contents.

"Purple Demon Eye!"

Tang San was horrified, attempting to see his landing point clearly to adjust his posture.

Unfortunately.

In the face of absolute bad luck, all cheat-like methods were futile.

"Splash!"

Water sprayed everywhere.

A murky, yellow wave instantly swallowed this future God King.

Glug, glug, glug.

A few bubbles rose to the surface.

Tang San, deceased... oh no, he had sunk to the bottom.

Inside the carriage.

A deathly silence lasted for half a second.

Then.

"Hahahahahaha!"

Yue Guan hammered the floor, completely disregarding his image. He laughed until he was trembling, tears streaming from his eyes.

"I can't take it... oh, my goodness..."

"This master and disciple pair... one is a bucket of rice, the other is a bucket of dung... a perfect match! Simply a perfect match!"

Gui Mei remained silent.

However, the black mist shrouding his entire body shook violently; it was clear he was holding back laughter so hard he was sustaining internal injuries.

In the corner.

Zhu Zhuqing widened her cat-like eyes.

Her small mouth was slightly agape, unable to close for a long time.

This is... too miserable, right?

She subconsciously looked toward Qian Mo.

The young man remained leaning against the window, his expression indifferent, as if none of this had anything to do with him.

But Zhu Zhuqing knew.

This was definitely not a coincidence.

From Dai Mubai to this master and disciple pair.

Everyone who offended this young man, or made him feel displeased, seemed to encounter unimaginable misfortune.

Is this...

The power of the Martial Soul Hall Holy Son?

Qian Mo withdrew his gaze and curled his lips, feeling slightly bored.

"System, you're really lacking in creativity."

"Bird droppings, dung pits—can't you come up with something more high-end?"

[Please be advised, Host.]

This is the Novice Village.

[I fear they wouldn't be able to handle high-end packages; it would send them off directly and lead to the end of the series.]

"Fine, whatever."

Qian Mo lay back down on the soft couch and waved a hand at the carriage driver.

"Let's go. The smell is too strong; it's choking my cat."

Zhu Zhuqing's body stiffened.

Her cheeks felt inexplicably hot.

Who... who is your cat?

The carriage slowly picked up speed, driving away from the street filled with that "scent."

Leaving behind only the roadside.

A middle-aged man kneeling on the ground, retching violently.

And a youth bobbing up and down in the cesspit, questioning his life.

The sun set in the west.

It stretched their shadows long, very long.

Desolate.

And comical.