Nie Huo clicked his tongue. ’Should I rob this place?’
He paused, seriously considering it. After all, it was blatantly scamming people in broad daylight.
He’d be doing a public service!
A moral robbery, if you will.
Completely justified.
A righteous redistribution of overpriced junk.
…
He blinked.
Wait.
Was he really trying to rationalize robbing a store because the noodle cup was too expensive?
Also – wasn’t he the thief?
The literal wanted man?
He coughed, straightened his body, and quietly put the noodle cup back.
’Tch. This store is corrupting me.’
Even if Nie Huo wanted to rob this ridiculous scam shack, deep down he knew –
He probably wouldn’t.
Not because he’d grown a conscience. Please.
But because while he was circling the store earlier, his eyes had locked onto something that made his spine stiffen on instinct.
It wasn’t the other bandaged guy slurping loudly in the corner.
Though that guy looked suspiciously like another fugitive.
No. It was…
The old man.
The one squatting near the unfamiliar artifact, holding some strange food. It looked like a crispy edible horn with cold mist curling out from the top.
Nie Huo squinted.
The old man was even making happy noises!
But it wasn’t the ice cream. Or whatever frost-demon treat that was.
It was the man licking it that lit up every danger sense he had honed over the years.
Old Tiger Zhao.
Nie Huo’s smirk froze.
The crazy, shirtless body cultivator of Scorching Soul City, known for punching flying beasts out of the air, lifting buildings during his morning stretches, and challenging river spirits to drinking contests.
And when he fixated on something?
There was no escaping his… affection.
Nie Huo shivered.
An old saying in Scorching Soul City warned that the last time someone accidentally touched Old Tiger Zhao’s favorite brick, the guy ended up buried in the wall as its replacement.
Forever.
Nie Huo tugged down slightly, already regretting his earlier “I should rob this place” thoughts.
If he made a move here and even brushed against something Old Tiger Zhao had claimed as his?
He wouldn’t be arrested.
He’d be obliterated.
Not for the crime, mind you.
Just for bothering the old man mid-eating.
Nie Huo kept his smirk on, but it was a bit tighter now. So… yeah.
Maybe robbing this store wasn’t the best idea.
That old man was reason number one, two, and five through twelve. ’I’m a cultured thief. I have standards. Not suicidal.’
Nie Huo let out a slow breath.
Since he was already here, he might as well count this whole ordeal as a weird fever dream. A ridiculous detour in his otherwise magnificent life of high-level thievery.
He wasn’t coming back. Ever.
Absolutely not.
But he wasn’t broke either.
Just this day, he’d swiped a fat pouch of crystals from some arrogant young master near the city gates. The guy had been too busy bragging about his flying sword to notice the loss.
So, Nie Huo was actually loaded at the moment.
But wasteful?
Never.
He picked the cheapest item on the shelves. Spicy Chicken-Flavored Instant Noodles. It cost a single crystal.
Still made him wince a little, but whatever.
After following the store owner’s lazy instructions, he grudgingly did exactly as told and sat at a table.
Three minutes.
That was it.
And when the time was up, he lifted the lid.
Voila!
The spicy, rich aroma landed a hadouken straight to his senses.
Just one sniff.
That was all it took.
All his complaints?
Gone.
Every sarcastic thought and prepared insult?
Silenced.
His eyebrows arched on instinct as a traitorous drop of drool slid from the corner of his mouth.
He stared at the noodles like it had just whispered heavenly secrets to him.
He stirred the noodles and took a bite.
And then –
He took five more.
It was spicy – just the right kind of heat that crept up and bloomed across his tongue.
Savory too, with a rich chicken essence that clung to the broth like it had been simmered for hours in some mythical firepot.
The noodles had a springy bite, soaking up that scarlet-red soup like eager little flavor sponges.
Each slurp was layered with smoky chili, roasted garlic, and a trace of something strange yet oddly nostalgic.
Like someone took the soul of a fiery chicken beast, turned it into broth, and punched him in the taste buds with it.
Nie Huo finished the entire cup before he even realized it.
When his mind came back online, the only thing left was the sound of him slurping the last bit of broth.
The steam faded.
The cup was empty.
Somehow.
Something took over his body. His limbs were no longer his.
He leaned back, and closed his eyes.
His mind drifted, thoughts scattering like dust blown off an old scroll.
Nie Huo had said it sarcastically before.
That a single cup of overpriced noodles better grant enlightenment.
Now here he was.
In the exact state he mocked.
For a solid thirty minutes, Nie Huo was motionless in perfect silence, no different from a monk deep in caught in the depths of sudden wisdom.
When he finally opened his eyes, there was a long silence.
“…”
Nie Huo exhaled deeply.
He took everything back.
Every assumption.
Every insult.
Every curse he muttered internally about this being a scamming, cursed, noodle-dealing dimension.
This place was… divine.
Dangerous.
But Nie Huo didn’t beat himself up over it.
Any sane man would’ve said the same things he did before tasting it.
No one would expect a noodles to slap their soul in the face and make them rethink their decisions.
But here he was.
He hadn’t broken through in cultivation, but he wasn’t disappointed.
Because what he had gained… was enlightenment in formations.
And not just the basic kind either.
He somehow understood three different ways to dismantle mid-tier defensive arrays.
One of them involved nothing but a toothpick, a pebble, and someone coughing nearby at the right moment.
As if that wasn’t enough, his thieving instincts had also evolved.
He now had a vague sense of when someone was about to turn around while he was snooping. His fingers felt lighter.
He smirked.
But the more he thought about it, the more his smile curved.
Enlightenment… from noodles?
That was weird enough. But from one crystal?
There had to be a catch.
Nothing came free in this world.
Even gifts from heaven usually came with terms and conditions in tiny golden script.
’What if my tastebuds get cursed?’