Chapter 61: Eating Watermelon.
Xie Qiyang had never seen such a spectacle. Her gossip-loving soul ignited instantly.
Dragging Li Tianxing, she dove into the crowd. “Quick, quick! There’s drama!”
They barely reached the edge when a bombshell unfolded.
A curvaceous, stunning woman, one hand on her hip, the other gripping a tall woman’s wrist, was glaring at the “undergarment” vendor, her brows furrowed, her sharp voice piercing the air:
“Wu Weilun, you damned dog!”
The beauty trembled with rage, her exaggerated curves clashing with her plain Taoist robe. She jabbed a finger at the vendor’s nose, cursing, “You’ve got some guts, stealing my partner’s undergarments and selling them in broad daylight?! If I don’t chop you up and feed you to turtles, I’ll take your name!”
Wu Weilun, also in a Taoist robe with slight bulges, wore a mask concealing their face, making their gender unclear. Far from cowering at the accusation, Wu Weilun leaped up like a cat with its tail stepped on, pointing back and shrieking:
“You shrew! Slanderer! It was you! You vile witch, using dark arts to turn my partner into a woman, erasing his love for me with some demonic spell!”
Her voice was melodious but laced with shrill despair.
“Today, I, Wu Weilun, will expose your true face in front of everyone and take back my partner!”
She lunged past the stall, reaching for the tall woman held by the beauty.
Whoa! What a tangled mess!
The crowd erupted. The plot twists were juicier than the most melodramatic stories in teahouses.
Gossip fever wasn’t just burning—it was a wildfire!
“Madam Shan? Hiss… she’s here?” An old hand in the crowd recognized the beauty.
That sparked a frenzy. The crowd’s sharing instinct exploded, piecing together the trio’s “glorious” history:
Wu Weilun, the vendor, and Wang Ruihong, the tall woman held by Madam Shan, were notorious in the cultivation world as lecherous thieves.
They’d joined—willingly or not—the infamous Hehuan Sect, known for its… questionable reputation. But they weren’t part of the mainstream yin-yang dual cultivation faction. They belonged to a fringe group, later expelled from the sect, forbidden to use its name.
Their method? Harvesting yang to boost yang, yin to boost yin. Once practiced, no other techniques could be cultivated.
The two hatched a shocking, depraved “shortcut”:
Wu Weilun, disguised as a Taoist nun with transformation arts, lured men seeking dual cultivation, only for Wang Ruihong to “receive” them. Wang Ruihong, with his dashing looks and slick tongue, seduced female cultivators, handing them to Wu Weilun.
In short, a cultivation-world scam.
Their rampant schemes even tarnished the Hehuan Sect’s reputation, already the best-regarded among mortals and low-level rogue cultivators for its yin-yang practices.
The sect’s other faction emphasized numbers—more partners, wider range. Thus, mortals often stumbled upon dashing, amnesiac men or distressed “仙子” (fairies), whose charm and aura far surpassed ordinary humans. Many envied those “lucky” encounters, hoping for their own, boosting the sect’s fame.
But Wu and Wang’s antics dragged the sect’s name through the mud, spitting on it for good measure.
Yet, those who play by the river get wet eventually.
They never expected to hit a titanium wall. Wang Ruihong, recklessly targeting Madam Shan’s partner—a formidable female cultivator—got caught red-handed. Madam Shan, with a penchant for women, used a domineering secret art to transform “Wang Ruihong” into “Wang Ruihong” (red), erasing most of his memories and turning him into her personal maid.
Wu Weilun, undeterred, tracked Madam Shan and “Wang Ruihong” to Nether Ancient Town, resorting to this low blow—selling Wang’s undergarments to provoke Madam Shan or lure Wang out. But she got caught in the act.
The crowd was dumbfounded, then erupted in laughter and jeers.
Schadenfreude? That was mild! These two were long on many kill lists. Their public dogfight was pure satisfaction.
More entertaining than any legacy scramble!
After all, the Heavenly Venerate’s legacy was out of reach for most. They were here to scavenge scraps behind the great clans.
Wu Weilun’s face alternated between pale and flushed under the crowd’s boos and mocking chatter, veins throbbing on her forehead. Her fists clenched, nails digging into her palms, clearly torn inside.
Finally, as if drained, she raised her head, hissing at Madam Shan:
“Madam Shan… I was wrong! I was blinded by obsession!”
Each word seemed forced through gritted teeth. “I’ll offer my life’s savings—please… let Ruihong go with me!”
With a thud, she dropped to her knees!
The crowd’s jeers didn’t quiet—they roared louder, like a tidal wave.
“Tch!”
“Coward!”
“Kneeling already? Weren’t you tough earlier?”
“Lame! Refund!”
“Beat her! She stole your partner, and you’re chickening out?”
The thrill-seekers wanted drama, not a sappy reconciliation or a peaceful trio resolution.
Madam Shan, irritated by the boos, lost face. Her eyes swept the crowd like cold lightning, barking, “Shut up! One more jeer, and you’ll see what happens!”
Her murderous aura, backed by high cultivation, silenced most of the crowd. They shrank back, swallowing their taunts.
This lady was no pushover, and her power was real. No need to risk their lives for gossip.