Who Let Him Cultivate？

Chapter 84: Tofu Shop on Qianmen Street

Witnessing Lu Yang execute a flawless sequence of the Mimicry Fist to physically morph into Man Gu, Lan Ting silently withdrew a slip of yellow talisman paper.

I’d better just draw a transformation talisman myself.

As expected of an immortal sect renowned for its unorthodox ingenuity and esoteric arts. To utilize a martial fist technique to replicate the effects of a physical transformation technique—what terrifyingly profound comprehension of the Dao must one possess to achieve such a feat?

Presumably, Fellow Daoist Lu Yang’s mastery over techniques had surely reached the mythical realm of seeing form as formless, and technique as void, piercing straight to the primordial source of magic itself.

Among their peers, Lan Ting was utterly convinced that no one could eclipse Lu Yang’s technique-craft.

Lu Yang suddenly recalled her claiming the tiger skin earlier for talisman crafting. It appeared she possessed considerable attainments in the esoteric field of runic scripts.

Lan Ting tapped the corner of her eye. “My vision possesses a certain… divine quirk. I am hyper-sensitive to geometric arrays. I can pierce the veil of a talisman’s core and pinpoint the anchor of any Formation. I was born to draft runes and weave arrays.”

“However, my spiritual stamina is finite. I channel the bulk of my focus into talisman-crafting; my grasp on Formations is merely superficial.”

She spoke with demure modesty, but in truth, this was a heaven-defying innate talent. It was a gift that guaranteed a boundless future in the mystic arts, one that would leave countless talisman and Formation Masters weeping tears of blood in envy.

With a few fluid strokes, Lan Ting completed a transformation talisman. Slapping it onto her shoulder, the spiritual qi rippled, washing away her breathtaking beauty and leaving behind a remarkably plain, forgettable visage. It was a flawless disguise.

And just like that, the barbecue joint acquired its newest frontline employee.

***

Two days into Lan Ting’s tenure, the barbecue shop remained a chaotic nexus of sizzling meat and demanding patrons. Yet, with a new hire absorbing the operational friction, the workload for the original trio lightened considerably.

Lu Yang, however, noticed a dark cloud hanging over Man Gu. While weaving through the tables to deliver platters of roasted flesh, Lu Yang projected his Divine Sense. What’s eating you? You look like someone stole your spirit stones.

Man Gu gave a grim nod. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Brother Lu, but our foot traffic has suffered a noticeable decline over the past few days. I ran the financial metrics, and the revenue drop confirms it.

Lu Yang paused, genuinely surprised. He hadn’t paid the slightest attention to their profit margins. Because of Lan Ting?

If anything, adding a female employee to the roster should have boosted their customer retention.

No, the downward trend began before she arrived, Man Gu replied, his brow furrowed in deep strategic thought. I haven’t pinpointed the root cause yet. There is a flaw in our market environment, and I cannot see it.

Lu Yang couldn’t care less. Frankly, he prayed for the day the shop went bankrupt so he could stop smelling like cumin. Keep analyzing the data, then. I’m going out on a delivery run.

A month prior, spearheaded by Meng Jingzhou’s disruptive vision, the shop had launched an off-site logistics division—takeout delivery. A drop-box was stationed at the entrance during daylight hours. Clients would submit written requisitions detailing their desired skewers, preferred delivery windows, and coordinates. Come nightfall, the trio rotated the burden of courier duty.

Tonight, the mantle fell to Lu Yang.

He hadn’t ventured into the nocturnal streets for several days. Stepping out into the cool evening air, he immediately noted a stark drop in civilian presence. The usually bustling avenues were practically desolate.

So this is the macroeconomic factor tanking our customer flow, Lu Yang mused dryly.

He checked the requisition slip. “Let’s see where this grease-soaked payload is headed… The Tofu Shop on Qianmen Street?”

***

Wen Xiangyu had long heard whispers of a wildly popular barbecue establishment opening in the district. She harbored a deep curiosity to test if their roasted delicacies truly matched the legendary rumors. However, ever since her husband’s untimely demise left her as the sole proprietor of his tofu shop, she rarely dared to brave the night.

It was no idle boast to say her porcelain skin and enchanting features drew the covetous, predatory gazes of many a scoundrel. Navigating the dark alleys alone was a gamble with her life and virtue.

Thus, when word reached her of the shop’s new courier service, she eagerly drafted a list of cravings and deposited it into their collection box.

Strangely, a heavy lethargy had plagued her for the past few days, and tonight, the exhaustion was absolute. Unable to keep her eyes open long enough for the skewers to arrive, she surrendered to the crushing drowsiness and retired to her bed early.

The delivery boy will just have to knock loudly, she thought as darkness took her.

***

Lu Zhi was a phantom of the night, a master thief who had recently become the bane of the local constabulary. His modus operandi was flawless: infiltrate a residence under the cloak of darkness, siphon their wealth while the occupants slumbered, and vanish like mist. He left zero spiritual traces. Whenever the constables interrogated the neighbors, the testimonies were identical—everyone had slept like the dead, oblivious to the world.

Tonight, his crosshairs were locked onto the Qianmen Street Tofu Shop. The proprietress was a famously alluring widow whose artisanal tofu commanded premium prices across the district. The sheer volume of silver she had amassed over the years was enough to make neighboring merchants weep with envy.

Possessing the agility of a shadow-macaque, Lu Zhi scaled the exterior walls without a whisper of sound. With a fluid contortion of his spine, he bypassed the latch and slipped through the second-floor window.

She should be out cold.

Lu Zhi’s confidence was absolute. By sheer luck, he had acquired a high-grade yellow slumber talisman. Merely affixing it to the exterior walls generated a localized soporific field spanning a hundred and fifty feet. Anyone caught within its radius was plunged into a comatose state. It was an infallible tactical advantage.

Holding his breath, Lu Zhi padded across the floorboards with weightless steps. Catching sight of the sleeping beauty draped across the bed, a triumphant smirk curled his lips.

He immediately pivoted toward the heavy wooden armoire to begin his extraction. In his professional experience, women always stashed their hard currency in the wardrobe.

Nothing? Lu Zhi frowned, his gaze shifting back toward the widow’s bed.

If the primary vault was empty, the secondary cache had to be beneath the mattress.

He dropped into a low crouch, carefully peering into the pitch-black void beneath the bedframe. His heart violently seized in his chest.

Staring back at him from the darkness was a human face!

“Ghost!”

***

Zheng Shouhe was a notorious flower thief, a vile predator who had recently driven the local constabulary to the brink of madness. His signature tactic was premeditated infiltration: he would embed himself beneath the beds of solitary women hours in advance, waiting with bated breath for his victims to fall asleep before striking from the shadows.

Occasionally, his reconnaissance failed, and he would find himself trapped beneath the floorboards while the woman entertained a secret lover. In those agonizing instances, he was forced to lie perfectly still and endure the ordeal.

Tonight, his predatory sights were set on the Qianmen Street Tofu Shop. The proprietress was a legendary beauty, a widow whose mere silhouette had ensnared the souls of countless men.

Executing his standard protocol, Zheng Shouhe had slithered beneath her bed hours before dusk, eagerly awaiting the dead of night to claim his prize.

So heavy… Zheng Shouhe had never felt such crushing lethargy. Usually, the adrenaline of the hunt kept his senses razor-sharp. He couldn’t fathom what was wrong tonight; waves of unnatural exhaustion continuously battered his consciousness.

His eyelids felt like they were forged from solid lead. He fought a desperate internal battle, forcing his eyes open time and time again, but the soporific tide was absolute. He succumbed to the dark.

A shrill, terrified shriek violently yanked him back to the waking world. Someone was screaming bloody murder about a ghost.

Zheng Shouhe’s eyes snapped open. Inches from his nose was Lu Zhi, peering under the bed with an expression of absolute, pants-soiling terror.

Reacting with the honed instincts of a seasoned criminal, Zheng Shouhe lunged. His left hand clamped over Lu Zhi’s mouth like a vice as he dragged himself out from the shadows. Simultaneously, his right hand drew a wickedly curved dagger from his waist, pressing the cold steel flush against the thief’s jugular.

Only then did Zheng Shouhe notice Wen Xiangyu. The widow was curled into a tight ball atop the mattress, trembling like a leaf in a hurricane. Clearly, Lu Zhi’s scream had shattered her magically induced slumber.

“You, get up! What a cursed night this turned out to be!”

Zheng Shouhe spat venomously. Cursing his rotten luck, he procured a length of hemp rope and bound Lu Zhi with brutal efficiency. His new tactical plan was simple: enjoy the widow, then silence them both permanently.

Right at that critical juncture, a heavy, rhythmic knocking echoed from the shop’s front door downstairs.

“Anyone home? I’m here with the takeout delivery.”

Zheng Shouhe clicked his tongue in pure irritation. The heavens were truly conspiring against him tonight. Leaving the bound thief on the floor, he grabbed Wen Xiangyu and forced her down the stairs at knifepoint.

Pressing the dagger against her spine, he hissed into her ear, “Get rid of the idiot outside!”

Everyone in Yanjiang County knew the beautiful widow lived alone. If he shouted through the door himself, a male voice would instantly trigger a security alert.

“J-just leave the food at the door. I’ll come out to get it in a moment,” Wen Xiangyu called out, her voice trembling with forced softness.

“Can’t do that. You haven’t paid yet,” the deadpan voice on the other side of the door replied.

A savage, murderous glint flashed in Zheng Shouhe’s eyes. Since you’re courting death, don’t blame me for digging your grave!

(End of Chapter)