This world is too dangerous. Without some real strength, you never know when you might just bite it.
As Nan Fusheng reflected on the danger of the world, his dormitory door was knocked on. He opened it to find Tang Wulin and Xie Xie standing outside.
"Hey, remember when I promised to buy you a big dinner? Tonight, Xie's treating."
"Sure, I won't refuse," Nan Fusheng replied—he had nearly forgotten. After changing clothes, he followed them out of the dorm.
They immediately ran into Gu Yue, who naturally slotted into their group.
"Hey, were you spying on us? How did you appear so timely just as we were leaving?" Xie Xie joked.
He had planned to invite her too, but her perfect timing made him half-suspect she'd planted a camera in the hallway.
"Spy on you? As if," Gu Yue replied calmly—just a few words that shut him down.
Xie Xie almost lost it, but he swallowed it. Who was he when Gu Yue could make him run in panic with just one ring?
"Haha, right. Let's go—today we hit the night market and eat until we drop." Xie Xie had come to terms with it—Gu Yue was out of his weight class.
"Night market? That's the "big dinner" you promised?" Nan Fusheng inspected him with disbelief, not that he frowned at street food, but expecting a gourmet meal for someone of Xie's means?
Xie responded with a resolute look:
"Yes—night market. With Wulin and his appetite? I'd be broke trying to take you to a fancy restaurant."
They walked half an hour past the academy until they reached it.
A narrow street lined with food stalls sprawled before them. Aromas of grilled skewers, steamed buns, and more wafted tantalizingly.
"Go ahead, order anything. Xie has the purse," Gu Yue whispered.
Tang Wulin charged ahead to various stalls—he ordered multiples of everything, inhaling as he walked.
They munched on everything with fierce determination until they reached a grilled sausage stand.
Tang Wulin asked the stall owner,
"Pure starch sausage? No meat at all?"
The vendor nodded:
"Yes, kid. Pure starch only."
"No meat? But how can it be tasty?"
"Trust me—my secret sauce makes it special. Ain't no meat is used. By the way, this might be my last day here. I'll give it to you cheap—3 Federation coins a stick."
"Then give me four to try."
They bit into them—surprisingly good.
"Uncle, are you sure there's no meat? I swear I taste meat," Gu Yue said.
The vendor smiled:
"No meat, no lie. That meaty flavor? It's my family's secret recipe—can't replicate it elsewhere."
Tang Wulin ripped through twenty sticks in minutes. Then he noticed Nan Fusheng still holding his sausage.
"Not hungry yet? Go ahead," Tang Wulin offered.
Nan Fusheng glanced at the sausage—and then recalled the train‑attack news he'd seen earlier.
A recent backpage article had shown a factory producing "black-market starch sausage"—a food plant caught adding "bone slurry" into the starch mixes.
Bone slurry was pulverized animal bones—often leftover chicken frames, restaurant scraps, or slaughterhouse offcuts.
The scandal had gone public—you'd better avoid suspicious sausage stalls.
Nan Fusheng looked at the vendor packaging behind him—boxes labeled "XX Factory Starch Sausage – ingredients: chicken meat…"
Great—that probably meant he was the exact grocery-store version of that scandalous product.
And here he was, sharing it with his teammates. Their digestion and toxin resistance were excellent—but still… no point correcting someone mid‑snack.
Soul masters don't read the news? Then he noticed the flaw in his logic: they usually don't. Unless something big happens, most soul masters spend all their time cultivating, not browsing the news about ordinary scandals.
Even if a small black‑market meat scandal hits, they wouldn't bat an eye.
"Why are you closing shop today? Is there some trouble?"
Gu Yue asked cautiously. Tang Wulin and Xie Xie listened.
The vendor sighed, looking melancholic:
"The world's so big—I want to see it. I've always wanted to visit Tandu City to see history's landscapes. To finally see how grand Shrek City is."
For a street vendor to speak of such lofty ambitions stunned the group.
Only Nan Fusheng smirked to himself: Probably not sightseeing—more like planning his escape, right?