The procession continued marching toward the Lin Clan’s quarters, the surroundings growing increasingly refined with each step. The cramped textile alleys gave way to wide boulevards paved with smooth slate, flanked by towering pagodas with upturned eaves adorned with silver wind chimes. The scent of dye vats and laundry soap faded, replaced by the delicate aroma of steeped tea leaves and sandalwood incense drifting from open tea-house windows. Another smell rose. Moondew-infused honey—a telltale signature of Zhuo Yi-Fan’s alchemical experiments—tasty candy!
"You realize bro," Lin Qi-Fan mused internally as he lobbed and gasped as another candy pouch startled a pigeon, "normal people practice alchemy for making pills. Not for turning dessert into pseudo-spiritual artifacts."
Zhuo’s mental voice dripped with condescension. "Pills are hard to concoct for me, atleast without the precision of divine sense; The repeated exercises they need simply ruin my 9 hours of possession time that could be used elsewhere, like making arrays or punchin—studying artifacts. But candy? Perfect for trial runs. Distill Spiritual root extracts using fractional crystallization—thank you, modern chemistry—then infuse them into caramelized mortal candy syrup. The viscosity—"
"—makes me want to vomit," Lin interrupted. "Also, skipping horse-riding lessons to play Walter White (Whoever he was) with sugarcane was a choice."
A flicker of irritation. "That's called being busy! Modern extraction techniques don’t just work without professional supervision. Besides—" Zhuo’s focus wavered as his thigh clenched against the saddle, "—you didn't hate those riding drills as much as me."
"Damn right! Because someone had to learn how to—OH SWEET HEAVENS, AIM FOR THE GROUND!"
A few early-rising cultivators—recognizable by their flowing robes and the subtle qi pressure around them—leaned against carved railings, sipping jasmine tea and offering respectful nods to Yi-Fan as he passed. One even raised her cup in a playful toast, her lips curling in amusement as his possessed left arm hurled another candy pouch skyward.
Yi-Fan’s right side remained the picture of aristocratic composure, his posture straight, his expression unreadable as he acknowledged the occasional greeting with a slight tilt of his chin.
His left arm, however, still had other plans.
Qi-Fan’s hijacked limb lashed out like an overexcited puppy’s tail, sending another silk pouch spiraling into the air—this one smacking directly into the face of a passing servant balancing a tray of teacups. The poor man yelped, nearly dropping his load before realizing it was Lin Qi-Fan's candy, higher in quality than what even cultivators could buy, now stuck to his forehead. He peeled it off gingerly, then, after a hesitant glance at Yi-Fan’s impassive face, popped it into his mouth.
"I’ve seen people multi-tasking," muttered a young guard, barely dodging a pouch that ricocheted off a street lantern, "and this *ain’t it*, chief!"
The battalion’s second-in-command didn’t even blink. "That’s not multi-tasking," he corrected, plucking a honeyed almond from midair and crunching it. "That’s what happens when you tie a rabid monkey to a canon ball before launching it."
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
"Why the hell are you so excited about tossing candy around?" Yi-Fan's mental voice dripped with disdain.
Lin’s response vibrated with barely-contained mania: "I CAN’T SEE, YOU LUNATIC! We usually split eye duty! Now I’m just a disembodied flailing noodle!"
A beat. Then, far too cheerfully: "Ah. Right. Horseback balance for me, requires full visual focus. I forgot to tell you, my bad. Only... 9 more hours of this now. Ha-ha-ha!"
The left arm responded by hurling three pouches in rapid succession—one of which landed squarely in the hood of a very confused nun.
—*SMACK.*
The second pouch struck true, hitting a round-faced young master square between the eyes.
Silence.
Then—chaos.
"DO YOU EVEN KNOW WHO YOU’RE OFFENDING?!"** Young Master Cong bellowed, his jowls trembling with outrage as he wiped honey from his brow. "YOU HAVE EYES YET FAIL TO SEE—"
Yi-Fan’s lips twitched. "—that mountain of fat?" he finished, his voice light.
The street froze. Even Qi-Fan’s candy-tossing arm paused mid-throw.
Young Master Cong’s face purpled. "YOU—!" He raised a meaty hand, spiritual energy crackling around his fingers as he unleashed a jagged bolt of red lightning and a stream of thick blood-red water toward Yi-Fan’s chest.
Without even shifting in his saddle, Yi-Fan flicked his right hand. The attack dissolved into harmless sparks, which he then redirected upward with a lazy wave. The energy burst into the sky like festival fireworks, showering the street in harmless embers.
"Ah," Yi-Fan acted mused, belittling Young master Cong. "Pretty."
Young Master Cong’s guards surged forward, their faces twisted in fury—
—only to freeze as the Lin Clan’s retinue *moved.* Blades slid from sheaths in unison, the sound like a single, lethal note. The second in command—the one currently hosting leadership—stepped forward, his smile razor-thin.
"Problem?"
The street held its breath.
Young Master Cong’s throat worked. Then, with a strangled noise, he spun on his heel and stormed off upstairs back to his living chambers, his guards scrambling after him like chastised dogs. The head guard with striped hair, the only one who didn't retort, bowed as an apology before following the rogues.
Yi-Fan's eyes locked onto the Cong Clan’s head guard, a mid Golden Core expert—a wiry man with scars crisscrossing his knuckles. Broken meridians, barely functional, only due to his Golden core. [*Perfect.*]
"My apologies for the… enthusiasm," Yi-Fan said, producing a gilded candy wrapper from his sleeve. He tossed it to the head guard. "For your young master’s and your condition."
The guard caught it, then stiffened as he read the tiny script:
《Meridian-Refining Body Tempering Art: 9 Steps for 9 meridians each》
Step 1: Dissolve candy in boiling water before chugging it lukewarm.
Step 2: Stop your Young master's whining.
Step 3: Learn and teach the Body temperering art at the backside, preferably before your Young master breaks through to Foundation Establishment realm.
The guard’s eyes widened. This wasn’t just candy—it was a *body-tempering recipe* disguised as trash.
[Most cultivators start with Qi Refining realm, directly skipping through the Body temperering realm before. But if this technique can truly do what it's named as such, then even our 5th Young master Cong can get Earth grade meridians, and with enough effort I could mend my meridians back!]
"Five minutes of targeted healing per step for you," Zhuo added cheerfully. "Or it’ll liquefy your muscles. Ta-ta!"
...
...
*Shared Mind:*
"Did you just—" Qi-Fan began, horrified.
"Use your candy-throwing spree to pick a fight with one of the Cong Clan’s Young masters?" Yi-Fan supplied. "Obviously."
"WHY?!"
*"Three reasons,"* Yi-Fan said, as the procession resumed its march, candy-throwing arm and all. *"One: he has a rotten personality and needs to be fixed. Two: I owe his father a favor, so why not correct his prized 5th son as a gift? Three—" *A pause.* "—watching him waddle away was funny."*
Qi-Fan’s groan was cut short as his arm, now back to its chaotic work, lobbed a pouch directly into a passing monk’s begging bowl.
The monk stared at it. Then, with a shrug, ate the candy in one bite.
Zhuo Fan guiltily continued- "I mean, I was just curious how a man his size naturally walks."
Zhuo Yi-Fan turns to the guards, especially looking at the junior guard, "Sorry for that! It's just that a few dozen paper-crafts slipped into my robes, scratching me mercilessly, I had to twist my arm in all sorts of directions, ha-ha-ha!?", Zhuo Yi-Fan laughs, looking for approval.
The second in command laughs as well, "Ha-ha-ha!, indeed Young master! The kids can be damning pains! We all thought you were fighting off a ghost or were already possessed or something, ha-ha-ha!"
The junior too laughs followed by the rest of the guards laughing out of sync.
The rest of the procession goes smoothly, largely due to Lin Qi-Fan going to sleep and Zhuo Yi-Fan running out of candies to throw at—to GIVE to children.
