Chapter 27: A Punch and a Getaway

Considering their height difference, Lingxi puffed out her cheeks and sprang into the air, putting her full strength into her palm as she swung.

The blow whipped up a gust of heat. A small handprint was left on a fair cheek, and Liu Ruoyun’s face burned as if scorched by fire, her cool, composed eyes blazing with fury. Having been pampered all her life, she had never been slapped by anyone.

Liu Ruoyun drew her sword and slashed out. The spiritual energy churned the air into a heatwave, felling the treetops in a row and sending a dozen birds flapping away in a desperate bid for survival.

Lingxi grabbed a slightly sluggish Sui’an, and with the "Nether Shore" swinging and sparking, she charged forward, cutting a path through the wind and waves.

Afraid to linger outside the city any longer, Lingxi entered Zhuxi City. Since cultivators were forbidden from harassing the common folk, she felt a greater sense of security there.

The two sat in a corner of a wall, covered in grass and their clothes torn by thorns, resting and tidying themselves up while chattering about cultivation and magical artifacts.

A passing middle-aged woman, moved by pity, pulled out a few copper coins and pressed them into Lingxi’s hand. After taking two steps, the woman turned back.

"Everyone, please, show some kindness. These two children are mentally ill and haven't eaten in days," the warm-hearted woman called out, gesturing with her vegetable basket to rally the crowd.

Passersby, hearing the call, gathered around. Watching the two adorable children babbling nonsense, some offered food, while others gave them a few copper coins.

"The fabric of their clothes is nice. They must have come from a wealthy family."

"Probably abandoned by their family after they lost their minds."

"I think so too. The rich care more about profit than we do; they have so many children they can't even count them. The fact that they didn't kill them outright after they went mad is already a sign of mercy."

...

The air was thick with pity as the onlookers discussed the pair, thinking they were being subtle.

Lingxi didn't mind; she continued to ask Sui’an about the Great Cultivation Tournament. She had heard mentions of the tournament after she and Wen Jue passed an assessment, but she lacked the specific details. Being treated as a lunatic wasn't so bad—she got money, and no one would leak what she said anyway.

Sui’an didn't have as much mental fortitude as Lingxi. After his repeated explanations failed, he slumped his shoulders and forced himself to play deaf and dumb.

By dusk, Lingxi had received two soft white flour buns. She shoved one into her mouth and devoured it, which only convinced the surrounding crowd further of their assumptions.

Watching her skillfully offer thanks, Sui’an felt a sting of sorrow. When she reached for the next bun, he could no longer hold back.

"Junior Sister, no one is going to snatch them from you. You can eat slower."

"It's fine. I’m used to rushing. Forget one bun—even if there were ten, I could finish them without needing a drop of water," Lingxi said, brushing the dust off her backside while biting into the second bun.

"Don't worry, Senior Brother can afford to take care of you. Don't eat this anymore; I’ll take you to a restaurant for something better." Sui’an reached out, trying to knock the bun from Lingxi’s mouth.

Lingxi swatted his hand away. "No wasting resources. It hurts my heart. Buns save more time."

Watching Lingxi accept another bun from the woman, Sui’an felt sorry for her, but even sorrier for himself. Lingxi didn't force him to eat, simply mentioning the meals Luo Chen used to cook.

...

Inside Zhuxi City, the streets were bustling. Peddlers pushed carts and shouted their wares, the aroma of food mixed with the sweetness of candied hawthorn berries filling the air.

A tall youth stood with his arms crossed, head tilted as he watched the girl picking out masks. Lingxi toyed with the masks on the rack, changing several before finally walking away.

"Why didn't you buy one? I thought you liked them," Sui’an asked, puzzled.

"Impractical. Expensive and useless. My method doesn't cost a cent."

"Is three wen expensive? That wouldn't even buy a box of osmanthus cakes."

"Isn't it? Osmanthus cakes can fill your stomach; can a mask do that?" Lingxi asked quietly.

Sui’an was momentarily speechless, unable to find a retort.

Lingxi kneaded a lump of something in her hands and tugged at Sui’an’s sleeve. "Squat down."

She spread out a pitch-black substance and pressed it onto the center of his brow, smoothing it out evenly.

The coldness made Sui’an shiver. He clenched his fingers and gritted his teeth, instinctively wanting to move, but after a slight tremor, he steadied himself and let Lingxi do as she pleased.

"My handsome face, ruined... where did you even dig up this mud? Is it clean?"

"From the outhouse. Absolutely clean."

"Damn it... you..."

Seeing Sui’an both furious and afraid to do anything to her, Lingxi couldn't help but laugh. He was foolish to a fault—like the dim-witted son of a wealthy landlord, lacking even the most basic common sense.

"I’m just teasing. It’s incense ash. Is that black market you mentioned reliable? This city looks completely ordinary; no one seems to know anything about cultivators," Lingxi asked, voicing her inner doubt.

"Of course. Some information must remain in the hands of the few; releasing it would only cause public panic. If we can pass the sect assessment and then the tournament, we can roam the world and rid it of evil."

Sui’an smacked his lips, looking wistful. It was only when he noticed Lingxi’s unimpressed gaze that he brought the conversation back to the point.

"It’s called a black market, but it’s actually a flea market where cultivators can freely exchange or purchase supplies. As far as I know, every city has at least one, and it’s maintained by the Immortal Alliance."

Lingxi had heard the name "Immortal Alliance" countless times these past few days, and the tournament was tied to it as well. The tournament was not just a competition between sects, but a means for the Immortal Alliance to select talent.

To be honest, Lingxi had no interest in joining the Immortal Alliance. She respected heroes, but she had no desire to sacrifice herself for others. She could not bring herself to die for people who had nothing to do with her.

Lingxi walked through the brightly lit streets, following Sui’an into a twisting alleyway. After winding around for half an hour, they finally reached their destination: an unremarkable inn. Apart from the building being a bit aged, there was nothing special about it.

Inside, a few tables were occupied by men drinking and carousing, while at the table by the window, some were playing drinking games with peanuts. The waiter leaned against an empty table, dozing off.

"Waiter, we aren't here to eat, just to stay the night. And I’d like to hear some news about what’s been happening in the city."

The spirited voice of a youth drifted in from the doorway. The patrons stopped what they were doing, their gazes converging on the entrance.

The weariness on the waiter’s face vanished instantly. He threw his rag over his shoulder and hurried to the door to greet them.

He saw a youth with a face covered in mud, leading a girl with an equally muddy face. The girl had a smile on her lips, her eyes clear and bright.

The patrons wore various expressions, looking at the strange pair with oddity. Do young people these days really play like this?!

Sui’an, as usual, stepped over the threshold and tossed a pouch of spirit stones to the waiter. The waiter pulled open the pouch, peeked inside, and his smile deepened as he led them through several turns to the room at the far east.

The door was no different from the others—black lacquer, the paper covering the frame torn in several places, and a palm-sized copper lock hanging from a rusty iron chain. The waiter skillfully opened the lock and lit the candle on the table inside.

The room contained only a bed and a table with a candle holder identical to the one the waiter had carried.

"Release that young girl!"

A cold shout rang out, accompanied by a sweeping gust of sword energy.