Even though Dou Xinshi’s skin was a healthy dark brown, anyone looking at him right now could tell.
He was pale.
Ghostly pale.
And it wasn’t from the battle.
It wasn’t from the beast he just skewered with his lightning-tipped spear, nor from the blood smeared on his arms and cheeks.
It was from something far worse.
Something internal.
Something… inevitable.
He stood above the fresh corpse, panting, body soaked in sweat – but his wide eyes weren’t looking at the enemy on the ground.
They were staring into the void of memory.
Earlier that day.
He had marched into the forest, proud and full of spirit.
His spear rested confidently over one shoulder. A fresh talisman was tucked at his belt.
His goal? Slay a few lesser awakened beasts, harvest their materials, and sell them for money.
It was going perfectly.
For the first ten minutes.
Then he paused mid-step.
A twitch in his lower stomach made his stride falter.
He frowned.
Took another step.
A twist hit him – sharp, coiling, dark.
His eyes narrowed.
“Ambush?” Dou Xinshi muttered, scanning the trees.
“Sneak attack? Hidden ability?”
But nothing came.
Except the pain.
Hot, bloated pain that churned like a thundercloud in his gut.
His heart stopped.
And then he remembered.
“That’ll hold you for one hour.” the Saintess had said.
The Saintess..
The adorable little demon with tiny fingers and techniques from hell.
“No…” Dou Xinshi whispered.
“No, no, no, not now – !”
He turned and bolted into the trees, crashing through foliage like a man possessed.
Each step rattled the timebomb inside him.
The cursed chains were breaking.
The seal unraveling.
And somewhere in his soul, he heard a rumble.
A deep, bowel-shaking rumble.
He dove past a bush, reached a clearing, tried to find a dignified position –
Too late.
…
And hell was unleashed.
It didn’t flow.
It detonated!
“AAAAAAGHH – !”
A thunderous, wet explosion tore through the forest’s peace, like some unholy cannon fueled by despair and lingering wrath of Spicy Lava Noodles
Dou Xinshi’s body jerked forward, spine arching as a geyser of brown erupted behind him.
Leaves were stripped from branches.
Roots were splattered.
A circle of grass withered instantly.
Birds abandoned the canopy with frantic cries.
A deer beast took one whiff and keeled over.
Even the wind seemed to recoil in disgust, turning direction mid-blow.
His body collapsed.
Legs trembling.
Pants ruined.
Soul… gone.
His last coherent thought before blacking out:
’Thank you… Saintess… for sparing me in public…’
When he woke, twilight had settled over the forest.
The stench still clung to the air like a haunting presence.
His mouth tasted like regret.
But somehow – miraculously – he heard the sound of water nearby.
Dragging himself across the dirt, Dou Xinshi crawled as though he were a soldier returning from a brutal war.
He didn’t hesitate.
He dove in headfirst.
The cold water was a slap to the face, but it was a relief.
He scrubbed. He thrashed. He dunked his entire body again and again, praying the cursed smell would never stick to his soul.
When it was over, he floated – exhausted, dazed, cleansed.
His eyes stared up at the darkening sky.
And he smiled.
“She saved me…” he whispered, like a pilgrim in prayer.
“From ruining my name. No… she saved my cultivation. My future!”
Saintess.
To others, a terror.
To him… a savior.
She hadn’t cursed him.
She had protected him.
She gave him one hour just enough time to flee the sacred land, to reach the safety of the forest, to not defile the Esteemed One’s floors.
To Dou Xinshi, it wasn’t a curse.
It was mercy.
“It was a test.” he muttered.
“A purification…”
He sat up slowly, the smell of shit fading behind him.
This was it.
The moment Dou Xinshi decided the Saintess was not just powerful – she was wise, benevolent, merciful.
If not for the Saintess’ Entrails Locking Cursed Palm, he would’ve committed one of the most utterly disgraceful acts imaginable!
In front of the Divine Noodles!
In front of the Esteemed One!
Facing upward, he clasped his hands and bowed deeply.
“I owe you everything, Saintess.” Dou Xinshi said solemnly.
Soaked. Half-dressed. Radiating devotion.
The stars began to shine in the sky above. The lake rippled gently.
That was earlier.
Now, back in the forest, Dou Xinshi hurriedly collected everything he could from the Thunder-Furred Warthogs – fur, tusks, cores, cracked marrow, and whatever else looked remotely valuable.
He didn’t dare to stay.
Who knew if more beasts would show up?
He was lucky once.
He wasn’t delusional.
“The noodles already gave me one miracle.”
“It’s only fair the heavens don’t give me two.”
Still, part of him believed there was more to it.
But he wasn’t willing to test that theory.
Not today.
He hadn’t even tried the other instant noodles yet… what was it again? The Beef-Flavored one?
Dou Xinshi wasn’t about to risk his life without purchasing every product from the sacred land. That would just be irresponsible.
Meanwhile, the “Saintess” Dou Xinshi had spoken of so reverently was nowhere near the battlefield.
Mo Xixi sat cross-legged in the center of her bed, surrounded by a chaotic sea of ancient manuals, half-open scrolls, and thick tomes with damaged bindings.
The sheets were barely visible beneath all the paper, and a faint purplish glow pulsed from one of the open curse manuscripts closest to her.
She had been at it for hours.
Not out of boredom.
Not out of obligation.
But because she realized something important today.
The more spells she mastered, the more types of customers she could handle. And in this strange, ever-changing store, that meant everything.
Some customers can be injured. Some can be aggressive. Some can be cursed. Some can be just plain annoying.
But each required a different approach, a different technique.
If she had enough spells – enough tools in her arsenal – then she wouldn’t be caught off guard again.
Had she been just a little more delayed earlier, that weird man might’ve actually released his mighty bomb right there in the aisles.
A fate too horrifying to mentally survive.
Besides, some of the martial techniques she’d found tucked within the Ashen Curse Cult’s forgotten volumes were far more versatile than she’d expected.
This wasn’t just training anymore.
It was preparation.