Old Tiger Zhao’s nostrils flared wide, as if catching something… special.
The air here definitely carried something he wanted.
He couldn’t quite place it, but it felt good.
Hao’s greeting snapped Old Tiger Zhao out of it.
“…”
Old Tiger Zhao blinked, his eyes locking with Hao’s.
“Kid.” Old Tiger Zhao muttered, his voice rough, yet oddly relaxed.
“Where am I? This ain’t the usual outhouse, is it?”
Hao stared at Old Tiger Zhao. “…”
’What? Did… did this old man just say outhouse?
Outhouse? That’s basically a comfort room, right? Hao frowned, his mind racing.
Is he really talking about an outhouse?
His mind did a double-take.
’Wait, are you telling me…’ Hao thought, connecting the dots. The door… was connected to a public outhouse?
Freaking shit.
Literal shit.
Of all the places for this new door to lead to, it had to be linked to a dumping ground?
What if someone bursts in here rushing to plant a bomb, would they be planting their C4 right on the floor here?
Oh hell nah.
This had to be some kind of joke?
He had prayed for a decent place to open the new door.
But no.
Instead, RNG had cursed him.
The Dimensional Convenience Store’s first upgrade, and it decided to establish a connection to a public outhouse.
Hao closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
There was no point complaining to the system.
He would just get ignored anyway.
It did warn him the location was random…
But still – why not a mountain peak? A bustling street? Even a sect cave?
Nope. His luck decided to roll nat 1.
An outhouse in Scorching Soul City.
Was he cursed by the RNG gods?
Maybe.
Or maybe –
Maybe this was fate!
Outhouses were essential, right?
Everyone had to use them. Every day. No breaks.
No holidays.
What if…
What if this was actually a prime traffic spot?
His store wasn’t in a bad location.
It was in a high-demand spiritual hub.
That was right.
The more people needed to take a dump or leak, the more customers he would get.
Why had he been so negative about it?
Hao opened his eyes and slowly exhaled.
A calm, enlightened look on his face.
“You’re not in an outhouse.” Hao answered
“This place is called the Dimensional Convenience Store.”
“Store?” Old Tiger Zhao blinked.
He looked around again, slower this time, like his brain needed to catch up.
Just a few minutes ago, he had been heading to his favorite outhouse in the outer district of Scorching Soul City.
A crooked little thing barely standing, with a rusted tin roof and a door that squeaked like a dying chicken.
Half-burnt from a rogue fireball incident last year. Still smelled like it.
He knew that outhouse like the back of his calloused hand.
Third stall from the left, always the cleanest.
A loyal place. A reliable dumping ground.
So when he pushed that rickety door open, he expected the same smoky, slightly cursed stink.
Instead, he found himself here.
Bright lights. Clean shelves. Cold breeze.
And a kid with decent posture calling it a “store.”
Something wasn’t adding up.
Old Tiger Zhao scratched his head.
He wasn’t the smartest, but even he knew a dump station and a store weren’t the same kind of place.
’Guess I really walked into the wrong shithole this time.’
Old Tiger Zhao sniffed again, his nose twitching.
“Kid, what’s that smell? Something sweet.”
Did this old man smell the vanilla ice cream he had eaten earlier?
Or was the ice cream machine leaking some kind of scent?
Hao sniffed the air, but nothing stood out to him.
Was this a vast difference in their noses?
That was the only explanation.
Old Tiger Zhao’s sense of smell was far sharper than Hao’s.
An expert fighter with decades of battle experience, especially battling wild beasts in the Molten Ashlands, developed a nose that could detect the slightest scents from miles away.
He could even tell what someone had for breakfast just by the air around them.
“Must be the ice cream.” Hao replied.
“Ice c-”
“Ice cr-” Old Tiger Zhao stumbled, his tongue tripping on the strange word.
“What again, kid?”
“Ice cream.” Hao repeated, slower this time.
“Oh, that. Yeah. Ice cream.” Old Tiger Zhao’s eyes lit up, though he still looked a little lost.
“This is your store, right, kid?”
Hao nodded.
“Can I get one of those?”
“Ice cream?
“Yeah, kid.”
Hao pointed to the screen floating above the counter behind him.
“That’s the sweet treat your nose picked up.”
“The cost is up there.”
“No error. No discount. That’s the final price.”
Old Tiger Zhao squinted at the screen.
It looked like a floating jade slip, just with better colors. The illustration was so clear, he almost reached out to grab it.
Golden cone.
White spiral fluff on top.
Smooth, a little glow around the edges.
It looked soft.
Mysterious.
His stomach made a sound. Was he really hungry?
Old Tiger Zhao had just feasted this morning.
Then he saw the price.
Two crystals.
For the ice cream?
His eyes widened.
He looked at Hao.
Then back at the screen. Then back at Hao again.
This kid didn’t look like a scammer. His gut said he wasn’t lying.
And his gut was usually right.
He was no stranger to crystals.
His ring was heavy with them.
But… he was saving them for a real treasure.
What if a wandering merchant came by again?
Last time, he bought a cape.
A cape that was supposed to make him invisible.
The merchant promised it was high-grade, “bought from an ancient sect.”
Turned out, it just made him look like a shadow.
And a poor one at that.
He didn’t listen to his gut that time and ended up getting scammed.
His stomach let out a loud growl.
Old Tiger Zhao stopped dead on the spot.
This wasn’t even about the crystals anymore.
His stomach had started protesting like a spoiled brat.
His nose joined in too.
The smell of that “ice cream” was just too damn good.
He wasn’t even supposed to be hungry. He had just eaten a whole plate of steamed buns.
But his body didn’t care.
His nose and his gut had joined hands like two petty bandits.
And they won.