Chapter 55: Oil Cultivator

Night fell, and Tail Alley was nearly empty; whether Qin Xiaopang would get his first bite of food today depended entirely on the mercy of the man in the horse-hair vest.

The man in the horse-hair vest was eating a bowl of mutton noodles, half the broth filled with mutton stock, half with sheep fat, the fat brimming with bright red chili peppers—so hot that sweat poured down his face as he ate.

The scent of mutton and chili drifted into Xiaopang’s nose, slowly eroding his last shred of dignity.

“Kneel and bow your head. Just one bow, and I’ll give you a sip of broth,” the man in the horse-hair vest said, walking up to Qin Xiaopang with the bowl.

Bowing was out of the question.

The man in the horse-hair vest slurped a mouthful of scalding broth: “You’ve been kneeling here all day—what’s one more bow?”

He knelt here because a spell had paralyzed his lower body; only a few joints in his upper body could still move. Otherwise, even with his last breath, he’d fight this man to the death.

The man in the horse-hair vest sighed: “I know food cultivators—if you go a day without eating, your stomach and intestines catch fire, the flames burning all the way to your throat, inch by inch scorching your heart, liver, spleen, and stomach. Just thinking about it makes me ache.”

As he spoke, he slurped another mouthful of noodles: “I truly pity you. Bow your head sincerely to me, and I’ll give you a sip of broth right now—I guarantee you’ll live one more day.”

Bow! Bow quickly!

Don’t think you can just die—I can kill you today. If you don’t drink this broth, I’ll make you eat something else.

See that latrine over there? I’ll scoop you a bowl of it. If you refuse, I’ll force-feed it to you. The young master said you must live at least three days.”

Xiaopang closed his eyes. The man in the horse-hair vest was right—his guts were burning, flames devouring his five viscera and six bowels.

The bastard would absolutely go to the latrine and scoop something for him—he was capable of anything.

But Xiaopang wouldn’t bow to him.

A man passed through the alley, wearing a red suit and a red top hat, carrying a bag of twisted dough. He glanced toward Xiaopang.

He pulled out one twisted dough and held it out to Xiaopang: “Here, eat this.”

The scent of the twisted dough made Xiaopang open his eyes. He lifted his head and looked at the man.

Backlit, he couldn’t see the man’s face, but the man’s build felt familiar.

Xiaopang reached for the twisted dough—the man in the horse-hair vest suddenly slapped his hand, sending the dough flying.

This outcome was exactly what Xiaopang expected—he closed his eyes again.

But the man in the red suit was stunned: “What are you doing? I’m just giving a beggar something to eat…”

“Who told you to feed him?” The man in the horse-hair vest smiled at the suit-wearer, his trademark thug grin spreading across his face.

The man in the red suit blinked, confused and frightened: “What’s wrong? He’s a beggar—I’m just giving him food. What’s the problem?”

“I don’t want you to. Is that not enough?” The man in the horse-hair vest’s smile vanished.

“I—I’m just giving him something to eat! What’s wrong with that? We should have some reason, some decency…” The man in the red suit stammered, terrified yet still trying to argue.

The man in the horse-hair vest hated people like this.

“You think you’re so reasonable? How many reasons are there in this world? What gives you the right to lecture me? I’ll beat your shit out and feed it to him—wouldn’t that be reasonable?”

The man in the horse-hair vest slowly rose—he’d teach this suit-wearer a lesson.

From crouching to standing, halfway up.

His center of gravity was wildly unstable, and his height was just right.

Li Banfeng had expected to need to provoke him further before he’d stand—but the man in the horse-hair vest cooperated perfectly, rising after just two words.

Li Banfeng seized the moment, lifting his foot and kicking the bowl.

Scalding noodle broth, mixed with chili oil, splashed directly onto the man in the horse-hair vest’s face.

The man in the horse-hair vest had mistaken him for someone who loved to argue—and was easy to bully.

Such people were perfect for venting.

He had no preparation at all; even as the hot broth hit his face, he still didn’t realize what had happened.

“Ahh~~~”

The scalding broth made him scream—the chili oil seeped into his eyes, causing him to weep in agony.

Though caught off guard, the man in the horse-hair vest didn’t panic—he immediately oozed a layer of grease over his skin.

But his eyes still burned fiercely from the chili; watching him grimace in pain, Li Banfeng felt a pang of sympathy.

What now?

He couldn’t rub his eyes—there was no water nearby to rinse them out. Was he just supposed to watch him suffer?

Li Banfeng whipped out a sickle from his sleeve, stepped forward, and gouged out the man’s left eye. “Better now?” he said.

The eye was out—he figured the pain must be gone.

The man in the horse-hair vest was a Level One cultivator, with strong physical resilience—he didn’t faint.

He stared at Li Banfeng with his remaining eye, bewildered: How did Li Banfeng know his weakness?

A sickle strike anywhere else was useless—his greasy skin was too slippery; ordinary blades would just slide off without leaving a mark.

The lantern-bearers of the Dark Star Bureau also secreted oil—he’d once used this technique to defend against Li Banfeng.

These cultivators were called Oil Cultivators—they relied on slippery techniques to defeat opponents.

They could secrete oil from anywhere on their body, but their eyes oozed oil slowly—and now, with his eyes burned by chili, his technique was impaired, letting Li Banfeng slash out his left eye.

Li Banfeng moved to gouge out his right eye—the man in the horse-hair vest blocked with his arm; the sickle struck his forearm and slid off, leaving no wound.

If blades failed, what about fists and kicks?

Even more useless—everything slid off the Oil Cultivator’s greasy skin.

This was why Oil Cultivators were so troublesome—newcomers had no idea how to attack them.

But how did Oil Cultivators attack themselves?

Their hands were slick with oil—how could they grip a blade? How could they even strike effectively?

Oil Cultivators could control their oil at will—the man in the horse-hair vest retracted the oil from his right hand, drew his cleaver, and swung it at Li Banfeng’s forehead.

Li Banfeng was ready—he dodged effortlessly.

Seizing Li Banfeng’s dodge, the man in the horse-hair vest bolted away.

Losing one eye was a serious wound—he couldn’t keep fighting.

He oozed oil from his soles and slid forward like ice-skating.

Li Banfeng sprinted after him.

The man in the horse-hair vest’s heart tightened—he realized Li Banfeng might be a Traveling Cultivator.

Against Traveling Cultivators, don’t fight head-on—wait for an opening to strike.

Li Banfeng quickly caught up, didn’t attack—just kept pace beside him, denying him any chance to strike.

The man in the horse-hair vest panicked and switched tactics, running while pleading:

“Brother, which path do you walk? I’m a guard for the Geng Family Pharmacy. You’d better find out what kind of organization that is.

Since you’re in Medicine King Gully, let’s not fight tonight—we’ll meet at a restaurant tomorrow. I’ll treat you to a meal—call it even, how about it?”

He meant: no fighting tonight; tomorrow at a restaurant, he’d pay for food and settle the matter.

Purely a delaying tactic—Li Banfeng had plucked out one of his eyes. Such a grievance couldn’t be easily resolved.

But since Li Banfeng was here to rescue someone, the man in the horse-hair vest believed he wouldn’t kill him—say something humble, survive this, then seek revenge on the suit-wearer later.

“Brother, answer me—yes or no?” The man in the horse-hair vest waited for Li Banfeng’s reply.

Li Banfeng replied: “I don’t understand.”

The man in the horse-hair vest nearly slipped.

“You’re not from the underworld?”

“What underworld?” Li Banfeng looked utterly confused.

“Let me put it this way—I work for the Geng Family Pharmacy. Our shopkeeper answers to the Jiang Xiang Gang. If you want to make enemies with us, think twice.

Or just take this fat man and walk away. Let tonight’s incident be forgotten. Is that negotiable?”

Li Banfeng nodded: “Negotiable. Do we negotiate standing still, or while running?”

The man in the horse-hair vest was speechless—Li Banfeng intended to wear him down!

Whether standing or running, prolonging it was unacceptable to him.

His real meaning was: stop here. Don’t chase me.

Sliding on the ground seemed easier—but maintaining full-body oil drained immense stamina.

At his current cultivation level, he could sustain it for no more than five minutes—he was nearing his limit.

Traveling Cultivators had superior endurance; Li Banfeng’s limit was still far off.

Whether standing or running, in three or four more minutes, the man in the horse-hair vest would collapse—his oil gone.

An Oil Cultivator without oil was dead in front of a Traveling Cultivator.

To conserve energy, the man in the horse-hair vest secretly retracted his body oil, leaving only a thin layer on his soles.

Under this condition, he could last over half an hour—enough to reach the pharmacy.

Once there, with reinforcements, he could handle Li Banfeng.

After retracting the oil, his skin’s sheen would fade.

He assumed Li Banfeng wouldn’t notice.

But Li Banfeng noticed.

He’d been watching the oil sheen on the man’s face—and the moment it dimmed, he slashed his sickle through the man’s cheek.

“Ahh~~~” The man in the horse-hair vest screamed, frantically summoning oil to slide his flesh off the blade.

What the hell is this kid?

He knows Oil Cultivators well!

A hole pierced his cheek—excruciating pain, and icy wind gushed into his mouth.

The man in the horse-hair vest suffered terribly—but worse was yet to come.

Ahead lay the only path to Huiyao Hall—a straight road over three li long, with not a single fork.

This terrain made it impossible to shake off Li Banfeng, yet he had no choice but to take this road; the man in the horsecoat’s oil layer was growing thinner, and he could barely hold on.

As Li Banfeng raised his sickle for another strike, the man in the horsecoat halted, preparing to fight to the death.

“You little brat, if you’re so eager to die, Grandpa’ll grant your wish today!”

With that, he completely retracted all the oil from his body and drew a cleaver from his waist.

“Come on, no tricks—let’s go head-to-head!” The man in the horsecoat challenged Li Banfeng to direct combat.

This tactic seemed wildly irrational.

Without oil protection, an Oil Cultivator stood no chance against a Traveler Cultivator in close combat.

What use could this desperate, all-or-nothing strategy possibly have?

Li Banfeng raised his sickle and roared: “Come on! Let’s go head-to-head!”

After speaking, Li Banfeng charged forward.

[111] With that, Li Banfeng charged forward.

Suddenly, oil sprouted beneath the man in the horsecoat’s feet, and he spun rapidly in place.

As he spun, over a hundred darts hidden on his body shot out like bullets.

This was the man in the horsecoat’s life-saving ultimate technique.

In desperation, he first retracted his oil, feigning a willingness to fight to the death, luring his opponent into close range.

Once the opponent drew near, he would instantly release his oil and, through high-speed rotation, launch every dart on his body.

Though this move sounded crude, the man in the horsecoat had killed many experts with it in actual combat.

In life-or-death struggles, who could see far ahead? Opportunities vanished in an instant—there was no time for careful thought.

But Li Banfeng understood perfectly.

The man in the horsecoat’s acting was excellent—he claimed he would fight to the death.

Li Banfeng’s acting was even better: he charged forward as if to fight to the death, but after two steps, he swiftly turned and dodged to a distant corner.

Ding ding dang dang!

The man in the horsecoat emptied every dart from his body in one go.

He stopped, searching for Li Banfeng’s corpse—but found no trace of him.

Where had Li Banfeng gone?

Had the darts failed to kill him?

The man in the horsecoat was startled and immediately coated himself in oil, preparing to defend.

What was this brat’s background?

How did he evade my killing technique?

No good—my oil won’t last. I must get back to Huiyao Hall quickly!

Just as the man in the horsecoat was about to flee, he caught a whiff of smoke—someone had already thought of a solution for him.

This was the only path to Huiyao Hall.

Someone had been waiting here for him a long time.

Yu Nan took a drag on his cigarette and exhaled the smoke toward the man in the horsecoat.

The smoke curled and enveloped the man in the horsecoat.

The oil-coated man in the horsecoat burst into flames on the spot.

PS: Thanks to Heidao Ruxue.

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(End of Chapter)