Oil Cultivator

Night fell, and pedestrians had largely cleared out of Tail Alley. Whether Qin Xiaopang would get his first bite of food for the day depended entirely on the charity of the man in the magua. The man in the magua was eating a bowl of lamb noodles. Half the broth was meat stock, and the other half was rendered mutton fat, swimming with bright red chili peppers. He was sweating profusely as he ate. The aroma of lamb and chili drifted into Xiaopang's nostrils, wearing away at what little dignity he had left. "Kowtow to me. Just give me one kowtow, and I'll let you have a sip of broth." The man in the magua carried the bowl over and stood before Qin Xiaopang. Kowtowing was out of the question. The man slurped down a mouthful of the scalding broth. "You've already been on your knees here all day. What's one kowtow to you now?" Xiaopang was kneeling here because a spell had been cast on him, pinning his lower body completely and leaving only a few joints in his upper body mobile. Otherwise, even if he had only a single breath left, he would have fought this man in the magua to the bitter end. The man sighed. "I know about you Food Cultivators. Go a day without food, and a fire starts in your belly. The flames burn all the way up to your throat, scorching your heart, liver, spleen, and stomach inch by inch. Just thinking about it makes me squirm." As he spoke, he slurped down another mouthful of noodles. "I truly pity you. Just give me one sincere, wholehearted kowtow, and I'll immediately give you some broth to guarantee you live another day. Come on, kowtow! Hurry up and kowtow! "Don't think that just because you want to die, I'll let you die today. If you won't drink this broth, I'll make you eat something else. See that privy over there? In a bit, I'll scoop a bowl out of it. If you won't eat it, I'll shove it down your throat anyway. The young master said to keep you alive for at least three days." Xiaopang closed his eyes. The man was right—his gut was on fire, burning through his internal organs. And the bastard really would scoop something from the privy and force-feed him. There was nothing that son of a bitch wouldn't do. Even so, Xiaopang would never kowtow to him. A man strolled past the alley. He wore a red suit, a red fedora, and carried a paper bag of fried dough twists. He glanced in Xiaopang's direction. Pulling out a fried twist, he held it out to Xiaopang. "Here, have this." The fragrant smell made Xiaopang open his eyes. He raised his head and looked at the man. With the light behind him, the man's face was cast in shadow, but his build looked somewhat familiar. Xiaopang reached out for the fried twist, but the man in the magua snapped his hand up, swatting it away. Xiaopang had anticipated this outcome and closed his eyes once more. Yet the man in the red suit looked genuinely taken aback. "What're you doing that for? I'm just giving a beggar something to eat..." "Who told you you could feed him?" The man in the magua smiled at the man in the suit, his face wearing a characteristic scoundrel's smirk. The man in the red suit blinked, appearing bewildered and terrified. "What's wrong? He's a beggar, and I gave him some food. What's the problem?" "I don't want you giving it to him. Got a problem with that?" The smile vanished from the man's face. "I—I'm just giving him a little bite to eat. W-what did I do wrong by giving a beggar some food? W-we have to be reasonable here..." The man in the red suit was so frightened that he could barely speak straight. Yet terrified as he was, he still tried to argue reason. The man in the magua despised people like this above all else. "Oh, so you're all about being reasonable, are you? Where in this world is there that much reason to go around? What the hell makes you think you can talk reason with me? How about I beat the shit out of you and feed it to him? Let's see how reasonable that is!" The man in the magua slowly began to rise, intending to teach this suited fellow a proper lesson. He transitioned from a crouch to standing, only halfway up. His center of gravity was terribly unsteady, and his height was just right. Li Banfeng had thought it would take a few more provoking words to get the man on his feet, never expecting him to be so cooperative as to stand up after just a couple of sentences. This was the moment Li Banfeng had been waiting for. He raised his foot and kicked the bowl of noodles. The scalding broth, along with the chili oil, splashed right across the man's face. The man in the magua had thought he had found an irritating moralizer who was easy to bully—the perfect outlet to vent his anger on. He had been completely unguarded. Even as the hot broth hit his face, he had yet to realize what was happening. "Aaaargh!" The scalding soup wrung a howl of agony from him, and the chili oil seeped into his eyes, bringing tears of searing pain. Though taken by surprise, the man in the magua did not lose his head. A layer of grease immediately welled up across his body. Yet his eyes were still burning with excruciating pain from the chili. Seeing him grimacing and groaning, even Li Banfeng felt a pang of concern. What was to be done about this? You couldn't rub chili when it got in your eyes, and there was no water nearby to flush it out. Could he really just stand by and watch the man suffer like this? Li Banfeng flicked a sickle out from his sleeve, stepped forward, and gouged out the man's left eye. He offered a comforting remark: "Doesn't hurt anymore, does it?" Now that the eye was gone, Li Banfeng figured it shouldn't hurt anymore. The man in the magua was a first-tier cultivator with a sturdy physique, so he didn't pass out. With his remaining eye, he stared at Li Banfeng, unable to fathom how this man knew his weakness. Slashing anywhere else with the sickle would have been useless. The layer of grease over his body was extraordinarily slick; an ordinary blade striking it would simply slide right off without leaving even a scratch. Lightbulb from the Dark Star Bureau had also been able to secrete grease, and he had used that very same technique to guard against Li Banfeng back then. These people were called Oil Cultivators, relying on slick greasiness to overcome their foes. He could produce grease over his entire body, but the oil surfaced slowest around the eyes. On top of that, the chili had blinded him, disrupting his art and allowing Li Banfeng to scoop out his left eye in a single strike. When Li Banfeng moved to gouge out his right eye, the man brought his arm up to block. The sickle struck his forearm and glanced harmlessly away, leaving not a trace of a cut. If blades were useless, what about fists and kicks? Fists and kicks were even more futile; they would slip right off an Oil Cultivator. That was what made Oil Cultivators so troublesome. Anyone facing one for the first time would be unable to find an effective angle of attack. Yet how did an Oil Cultivator attack? With oil covering his hands, wouldn't his strikes slip too? Wouldn't he drop his own blade? An Oil Cultivator could deploy and retract grease at will. The man drew the grease back from his right hand, pulled a chopper, and hacked straight toward Li Banfeng's brow. Li Banfeng was already prepared and easily dodged the blow. Taking advantage of Li Banfeng's evasion, the man in the magua spun around and ran. Losing an eye was a grievous wound; he could not afford to keep fighting. Grease welled under his soles, sending him gliding forward like a skater on ice. Li Banfeng opened his stride and gave chase. The man's heart tightened as he realized Li Banfeng might be a journey cultivator. Against a journey cultivator, a frontal contest of speed was foolish; he had to bide his time for an ambush. Li Banfeng caught up in short order. He didn't strike; he simply ran alongside him, denying him any opportunity to launch a surprise attack. The man grew panicked and quickly changed tactics. As he ran, he tried to negotiate: "Brother, which path do you walk? I'm an outpost guard for the Geng Family Medicine Shop. You'd best ask around about the background of the Geng Family Medicine Shop. Now that we're both in Yaowanggou, why don't we put this aside for the night and meet under broad daylight tomorrow? We can sit at an eatery, share a meal, and sort this out. What do you say?" What he meant was to stop fighting tonight, meet at a restaurant the following day, and let him buy a meal to settle the score. It was purely a delaying tactic. Li Banfeng had carved out one of his eyeballs—such a bitter grudge would hardly be resolved so easily. Still, since Li Banfeng was here to rescue someone, the man assumed he wouldn't press for a lethal kill. If he spoke politely and survived this ordeal, there would be plenty of time to seek revenge against this suited man later. "Brother, will that do or not? Give me a word!" The man waited for Li Banfeng's answer. Li Banfeng replied, "I don't understand a word you're saying." The man nearly slipped and fell. "You're not from the underworld?" "What underworld?" Li Banfeng looked completely blank. "Let me put it plainly! I belong to the Geng Family Medicine Shop, and our shopkeeper is with the Jiangxiang Gang! If you want to make enemies with us, you'd better think it through carefully. How about this: you take that fat fellow and leave, and we call tonight even. Can we talk this over?" Li Banfeng nodded. "We can talk. Do you want to talk standing up, or while running?" The man in the magua was struck speechless. Li Banfeng was trying to grind him down! Whether standing or running, dragging this out was something he could not afford. His true intent had been for things to end here and for Li Banfeng to stop pursuing. Gliding across the ground might look less strenuous than running, but maintaining a body coated in grease drained a tremendous amount of stamina. With his current cultivation, he could sustain it for five minutes at most. He was rapidly nearing his limit. A journey cultivator, on the other hand, had boundless endurance. Li Banfeng was nowhere near his limit. Whether they stood or ran, in two or three more minutes the man's stamina would be exhausted, and the grease on his body would vanish. An Oil Cultivator stripped of grease could only wait for death before a journey cultivator. To conserve his strength, the man secretly pulled the grease back from his body, leaving only a layer on the soles of his shoes. Under these conditions, he could hold out for more than half an hour—plenty of time to make it back to the medicine shop. Once he reached the shop, with plenty of hands on his side, dealing with Li Banfeng would be simple. When the grease was pulled back, the oily sheen on his body vanished, leaving his skin noticeably duller. He thought Li Banfeng wouldn't notice such a subtle change. To his dismay, Li Banfeng noticed immediately. Li Banfeng had been watching the oily sheen on his face the entire time. The moment the luster faded, a sickle hooked forward, puncturing straight through the man's cheek. "Aaaargh!" The man shrieked, frantically summoning his grease to let his cheek slide free of the blade. *What is with this guy?!* *He knows Oil Cultivators inside and out!* A hole had been punched through his cheek, bringing excruciating pain as cold wind rushed into his mouth. The man was miserable beyond words, and worse was yet to come. Ahead lay the only route back to the medicine shop—a straight road over three li long, without a single fork or alleyway. There was no way to shake Li Banfeng on a road like this. Yet he had no alternative route, and the grease on his body was growing thinner by the second. He could barely hold on. Seeing Li Banfeng raise the sickle for another strike, the man pulled up short, ready to risk his life. "Little bastard! If you want to die that badly, your grandpa will grant your wish today!" With that, he pulled every bit of grease from his body, withdrew a chopper from his waist, and took a stance. "Come on! No dirty tricks—let's go head-to-head!" He was challenging Li Banfeng to a direct clash. Such a tactic seemed utterly irrational. Without the protection of grease, an Oil Cultivator was no match for a journey cultivator in close combat. What could he possibly gain from throwing caution to the wind like this? Li Banfeng raised his sickle and roared, "Come on, then! Head-to-head!" With that, Li Banfeng charged. Grease suddenly surfaced beneath the man's feet, sending him spinning rapidly in place. As he whirled, more than a hundred throwing darts hidden on his body were flung out like bullets. This was his ultimate trump card for survival. In a desperate situation, he would retract his grease to feign a suicidal stand, luring his opponent into melee range. Once the enemy closed in, he would swiftly deploy his grease and spin at high speed to unleash a storm of concealed darts. Crude though the trick might sound, he had felled many a seasoned expert with it in real combat. In a life-or-death struggle, who could afford to look that far ahead? When an opening presented itself for a split second, who had the leisure to think everything through? Yet Li Banfeng had thought it through completely. The man in the magua was an accomplished actor, declaring he would fight to the death. Li Banfeng was an even better one. He charged forward as if to fight to the death, but after two strides, he abruptly cut sideways and ducked behind a distant corner of the wall. *Clang! Clang! Clatter! Clang!* The man emptied every last dart from his body in a single breath. He came to a stop and looked around for Li Banfeng's corpse, but after searching for a while, there was no sign of him. Where had Li Banfeng gone? Could the darts have failed to kill him? A jolt of panic seized the man, and he hastily brought grease to his skin once more, bracing for defense. *Where did this little bastard come from?* *How did he anticipate my finishing move?* *No, my grease won't hold out much longer. I have to get back to the medicine shop right away!* Just as he was about to make a run for it, the scent of tobacco drifted into the air. Someone had already solved his dilemma for him. This was the only route back to the medicine shop. And someone had been waiting here for him for quite some time. Yu Nan took a drag of her cigarette and blew a plume of smoke straight toward the man in the magua. The smoke drifted forward, curling around him. Drenched in grease, the man in the magua burst into flames on the spot.