58 – Field Trip

“Jiushuang sect, correct?” I asked as I reviewed the map.

From the map, the sect lay directly southeast of the Golden Fields and Lingshan Temple. We just needed to head east after passing the southern mountain range. The point where I am ambushed by five Golden Cores. At a steady pace, we should arrive in a month or two. I wondered why the mission brief gave us six months. Did it account for all the bullshit we might encounter along the way?

“That is correct. Now let’s go already.” Wanxia said impatiently. She pulled out a huge pear-shaped fan and stood on its flat side. Wendao drew his flying sword, Huiran produced a giant gourd, and Ningguang summoned a spear.

“Is that how cultivators usually travel?” I asked incredulously, staring at the ridiculous assortment of flying objects. “You stay in those positions the entire time?”

“Yes.” Qingfeng replied, pulling out a small flying boat.

“That sounds very uncomfortable.” I noted.

“Stop complaining and pull out your flying treasure already. We are wasting time.” Wanxia complained, clearly wanting to end this arrangement as quickly as possible. “Or did you not have one yet?” she added in a mocking tone.

I snapped my fingers. A double-decker bus appeared beside me.

“Come in. This should be much more comfortable.” I stepped inside.

It was roughly reminiscent of the economy buses I had ridden back on Earth. I had renovated the interior, removing rows of passenger seats to create individual rooms like those in luxury buses I once heard. As the bus is scaled to my size, each room felt quite spacious for them. Complete with its own bed, a bed, a seat, and a table as I don’t exactly know what else to put in each room. There’s no way I can project a TV.

Huiran was the first to enter. He looked mesmerized by the interior.

“This thing can fly too?”

“Of course.”

“I call dibs on the first room!” Huiran rushed to claim one.

Behind him, Qingfeng and Wendao entered. They took one look around before immediately claiming their own rooms. Nothing beats convenience and comfort when traveling. That left Wanxia and Ningguang as the last to enter. They hesitated, not because of the novelty, but because they didn’t want to lose face. At least Wanxia didn’t.

“W-well, this looks fine enough for us.” Wanxia reluctantly admitted.

“The only room left is in the back,” I pointed out.

“Danxing, the second floor is empty. Can I have my room on top?” Huiran asked.

“Sure thing.” I raised his room to the second floor.

“Mine too.” Wendao chimed in.

“Of course.” I raised his room as well.

“No, wait.” Wanxia tried to intervene, but it was too late. If she asked for the same thing now, it would look like she just didn’t want to be left out. So she silently picked a room at the back, her face slightly red.

“Thank you for the convenience.” Ningguang said politely as she claimed the room across from Wanxia.

With everyone settled, I added a counter and seats along with a small kitchen set in the middle of the first deck. I also placed a bathroom on the right side across from Qingfeng’s room. On the second deck, I added another bathroom on the left and left some sections empty for now. Projecting the entire bus with all its conveniences had taken nearly half my Qi, but it was worth it.

“So this is how you traveled back in your homeworld?” Qingfeng asked as he sat at the counter.

“Pretty much. I’m more surprised no cultivators have something like this.” I replied honestly.

“There are, but they’re rarely made or bought,” Qingfeng explained. “Most cultivators prefer to travel alone. Things like this aren’t popular when everyone already has their own flying treasure. Besides, bigger flying treasures are much more expensive, and faster ones are generally preferred.”

I nodded. That made sense.

“Since I’ll be driving, should we just head straight north toward Jin and so on?”

“No,” Qingfeng replied. “We will go to the Houtu Kingdom first.”

“What? Why?” 

—

A few days before departure.

“Master, what do you think is best to make up with Danxing after our little tradition?” Qingfeng asked. He had already given plenty of pills, but he wanted something with more sentimental value.

is giving him an artifact. You could do the same, but the real value of such things might be lost on him.”

“Then what should I do?”

“There is one thing,” Luochen recalled. “From his stories and what he has done so far, it seems his homeworld followed Mohist principles. You know how they are. Just present him with something raw.”

Qingfeng smiled. He knew exactly what his junior brother would like.

—

So here we are. A week after departure. Deep beneath the bustling markets of a border city in the Houtu Kingdom, the underground arena thrummed with raw, unrestrained energy. The circular pit was packed with Qi Refining and Foundation Establishment cultivators, all wearing crude yet striking animal head masks. Snarling wolves, roaring tigers, sly foxes, and horned bulls. Shouts and roars echoed off the stone walls as fighters clashed in brutal, no-holds-barred matches. Some wrestled in raw displays of strength, muscles bulging as they slammed opponents into the ground, while others unleashed bursts of Qi, sending shockwaves through the crowd.

The atmosphere was electric and chaotic. Spectators packed the surrounding stands, cheering wildly, placing frantic bets, and tossing spirit stones onto the arena floor as rewards for particularly impressive moves. Masked fighters roared challenges, blood and sweat flew, and the air crackled with unleashed spiritual energy. Every bout was a storm of violence and spectacle, the animal masks giving the entire scene a primal, almost ritualistic feel. Here, status and sect affiliation meant nothing. Only strength and ferocity mattered.

In one ring, a man wearing only pants and a chicken head mask lifted another fighter in a bull mask high into the air. The bull, clearly exhausted and covered in bruises, was slammed to the ground in a shockwave of Qi.

“The winner: THE COOOOOOOCKFIGHTER!” the announcer shouted. The cry was echoed by cheers from those who had bet on him and painful shrieks from those who hadn’t.

“OOOO! Did you see that?!” Danxing was already fully immersed in the atmosphere. Raw excitement like this was rare back home, replaced by endless VR or AI entertainment. There were some good moments, of course, but it quickly grew stale when you realized you were watching it alone and nothing was real. Here, everyone was real. The fighters, the spectators, the betting ring, everything.

“We took a detour for this?” Wanxia asked incredulously. Then she looked at Ningguang for an agreement. Only for Ningguang already wearing a songbird headmask and presenting Wanxia with another. A monkey headmask she bought somewhere.

“Why is it a monkey?” Wanxia asked as she saw the mask. Ningguang’s shoulders drooped slightly. “Wait, no. I will wear it.” She quickly accepted and put it on.

“Next match, the Chicken and the Snake! Bets! Place your bets here!” a peak Qi Refining staff member shouted, carrying a huge tray. Many bets quickly piled up until he reached their seats.

“When betting, always bet as much as you are willing to lose and bet only once,” Danxing recited like a sage. “All in.” He then dumped one hundred medium-grade spirit stones onto the tray.

The staff member’s eyes and mouth went wide before he shouted at the top of his lungs. “One hundred medium-grade spirit stones for the Chicken to win!” His announcement drew the attention of the entire arena.

“Which young master placed the bet?”

“One hundred medium grade spirit stones? What a lunatic.”

“You are just a coward! I bet my entire life savings!”

Such were the words and sentiments of the crowd as the fight between the Chicken and the Snake quickly became the highest-stakes match of the day, drawing even more bouncers to stabilize the frenzied crowd.

In the center of the roaring arena, the Snake fighter slithered forward with deadly grace. His mask was a menacing viper’s head with glowing emerald eyes and long, dripping fangs. Scales covered his lean, muscular body, shimmering with a poisonous sheen under the torchlight. He moved with fluid, unpredictable motions, his presence radiating cold lethality as venomous Qi coiled around his limbs like living serpents.

The Cockfighter, in contrast, stood bold and defiant. His chicken headmask featured a bright red comb and sharp, golden eyes. Muscles rippled across his broad frame as he cracked his knuckles, radiating raw, explosive power. The crowd roared as the two fighters circled each other, the air thick with tension.

The fight erupted in a blur of motion. The Snake struck first with blinding speed, his claws laced with deadly venom slashing toward the Cockfighter’s throat. The Chicken dodged by a hair’s breadth, countering with a devastating uppercut that sent shockwaves through the arena. The Snake twisted away like liquid shadow, wrapping around the Chicken’s arm and sinking fangs into his shoulder. Poison surged, but the Cockfighter roared, slamming the Snake into the ground with earth-shaking force. They traded blows in a whirlwind of violence. Venomous strikes against raw, overwhelming power. The Snake was faster and more agile, landing cut after cut, while the Chicken’s hits carried the weight of mountains. For a moment, the Snake seemed to have the upper hand, coiling around the Chicken’s neck in a lethal stranglehold.

Then, with a primal roar, the Cockfighter exploded upward. He broke free and delivered one final, devastating strike: a downward hammer fist empowered by pure brute force. The Snake tried to dodge, but the blow connected by the narrowest margin, slamming him into the arena floor with bone-crushing impact. The crowd erupted as the referee raised the Cockfighter’s arm.

The Chicken had won by a hair’s breadth.

“COCKFIGHTEEEEER!” Danxing roared, arms raised high with index fingers pointed upward as he cheered wildly.

“Cockfighter!”

“Cockfighter!” The crowd roared along with him.

“YEEE!” Wanxia jumped and cheered with the boys before catching herself in embarrassment. She had bet on the Cockfighter too, swept up in the heat of the moment.

The Cockfighter struck a victorious pose, flexing his bulging muscles, before suddenly passing out while still standing. Passing out with dignity.

On the other hand, there were plenty of screams from those who had bet on the Snake and now needed to be escorted out of the venue.

When it was time to collect their winnings, Danxing returned with fifty-five medium-grade spirit stones. He was more than five times richer than before. Qingfeng, Huiran, and Wendao all grinning as they took their winnings too. While Wanxia was glad her headmask hid her shameful smile.

Only Ningguang hadn’t bet. She felt a little left out and envious. This kind of activity was what her master would call useless and frivolous, and she had been forbidden from participating. She didn’t bet along because just within the venue is already exhilarating enough that it felt sinful to indulge further. She reasoned that this thrill was fleeting and that she would never indulge in such things again after this. Still, the regret lingered.

As they were leaving, the group was stopped by a buff woman wearing a chicken headmask who stood in their way.

“Bok bok.” she clucked, staying perfectly in character.

“Mrooo,” Danxing answered with a deer sound, drawing weird glances from the rest of the group as he played along.

This exchange repeated a few times. The two seemed to have a proper conversation in this manner. In the end, the female chicken handed Danxing a martial art manual, clucked once more, bowed, and left.

—

“What was that about?” Qingfeng asked as they returned to the bus.

“Oh, that? She was grateful we bet on her little brother. They get a share of the winnings based on the bets placed,” Danxing explained. “She even gave me a martial art her older sister made for them.” He showed them a book that felt strangely familiar.

“You got that from her clucking?” Huiran asks incredulously.

“Something like that.” I shrug, it felt like I am reading her intent rather than words. “Oh, and she told us to be careful going north. Was there some sort of trouble up north?”

“Not that we know of.” Wendao answered seriously after giving it some serious thought. “It’s best we stay vigilant.”

I nod along as I inspect the martial art book. Then it clicked. Isn’t this the martial arts Senior Sister Zhaoxia gave to me?

I pulled out an exact copy of the book. The one Senior Sister Zhaoxia gave to me when I departed the first time. Qingfeng’s eyes went wide in realization as both of us grins.

Senior Sister Zhaoxia has a history of being a wrestler.

~ Valarion