The Nightshade Demon Sect had many secrets. Forbidden cultivation manuals. A hidden treasure vault. A surprisingly aggressive flock of spiritual chickens.
But today's mystery..? Who the hell put exploding chili essence in the sect leader's soup dumpling?
Spoiler: It wasn't me. Probably....
I was just trying to enjoy my demon promotion ceremony... yes, apparently they promote you with dumplings...when BOOM! A mushroom cloud of steam and pork fragrance erupted from the dining hall.
"WHO DARES SABOTAGE THIS SECT'S SACRED SNACK?!" The Demon god roared, his beard now slicked back like he'd just walked out of a demonic shampoo commercial.
I ducked behind Yue. "Is this a good time to tell him I'm allergic to spicy food?"
Yue didn't respond. She was too busy laughing her lungs out, wheezing like an asthmatic goose...
Sect disciples scattered. One poor guy tried to ninja-roll out the window, and got stuck halfway.
The Demon god turned his demonic glare on me. "Long Fei Jian… did you do this?"
Me? Offend the most terrifying chili connoisseur in the Four Realms?
"No, sir!" I said, straightening my robes, and giving the most innocent puppy-eyes I could muster. "I was just sitting here, quietly… demon-ing." He squinted at me.... Then slowly reached into his sleeve and pulled out… a scorched dumpling wrapper.
Guess what was written on it? Property of Long Fei Jian... Traitorous soup dumplings.
"I can explain!" I blurted. "It was… uh… an alchemy experiment! Yes! I was trying to refine the ultimate spiritual snack!"
Yue leaned over. "He thought spicy food would unlock a cultivation breakthrough."
The Demon god stared....Then laughed....Then coughed fire....Literal fire...
"Promote him again!" he said between fits of laughter. "Anyone who survives my dumplings and still tries to weaponize them deserves respect!"
And that's how I became Vice-Demon Head of the Nightshade Inner Disciplinary Snack Squad.
I don't know what that title means either, but it comes with free dumplings anyway...
---
Spiritual Chickens and the Forbidden Egg Omelette Manual
There are three rules in the Nightshade Demon Sect:
1. Don't touch the Sect Leader's beard.
2. Don't challenge the Demon King to a drinking contest unless your soul is flame-retardant.
3. NEVER enter the chicken coop.
Guess which one I broke...?
Spoiler: all of them, but today we're talking poultry.
It started innocently enough. I was hungry. The dumpling party had ended in a chili-based near-death experience, and the kitchen was locked up tighter than a monk's chastity vows. So, naturally, my brilliant plan was: sneak into the spiritual chicken coop and borrow an egg.
Just one egg.... How bad could it be? Yue had warned me.
"Those chickens are sacred beasts," she said.
"They're demonic poultry," I scoffed.
"They once pecked a rogue cultivator into a different timeline," she added. I should've listened.
I crept into the coop under the moonlight like a culinary ninja. Rows of glowing, aura-pulsing nests lined the room. One egg in the center was radiating with qi so thick, it practically hummed Beethoven's Fifth.
Jackpot....I reached out...The egg blinked at me....BLINKED.
Before I could process that horror, I heard a terrifying war cry:
"BWAAAK-KAI!" Dozens of spiritual chickens rose like angry phoenixes, their feathers glowing, talons sharpened, eyes filled with ancient rage.
"Oh sh—" I ran.
Through the coop. Over the fence. Across the herb garden. Past a startled Yue who shouted, "WHY IS A CHICKEN CHASING YOU WITH A SWORD?!" Yes. One had a sword. A tiny sword.... A tiny glowing sword.
I finally dove behind the alchemy shed, clutching the egg like it owed me rent.
Yue found me ten minutes later, feathered and traumatized.
"Congratulations," she said, deadpan. "You just committed poultry treason."
"Was the egg at least worth it?" I wheezed.
She inspected it… and gasped. "This… This is the Forbidden Egg Omelette Manual."
I blinked. "The what now?" She cracked it open. Inside was a golden scroll. It floated in the air, unfurling like it had waited centuries for a dumbass like me to come along.
"Scrambling Your Enemies Into a Soufflé." I passed out.
---
Hen Shui, Grandmaster of Beak-Fu
I woke up in the infirmary, covered in bandages and yolk... Yue was sitting at my bedside, munching on roasted sweet potatoes like this was just another Tuesday. "You're lucky," she said between bites. "Hen Shui only used her non-lethal claws."
"Hen… Shui?" I croaked.
She nodded solemnly. "The Grandmaster of Beak-Fu. Fourth Elder of the Nightshade Chicken Sect. Sworn enemy of omelette thieves."
"…There's a chicken sect within the Demon Sect?" She tossed me a scroll. On it was a crude drawing of a chicken in battle robes, executing a flawless flying kick against a human cultivator.
Below it, the words: 'Feather Your Enemies With Fist and Fury'.
"I've made many mistakes in my life," I whispered.
"Welcome to the club," Yue said. Just then, the door slammed open and in waddled—
A chicken.... But not just any chicken.
She was majestic. Regal. Ancient. Her feathers shimmered with cosmic qi, her eyes glowed with the wisdom of ten thousand worm hunts. She wore a tiny cape.
Hen Shui...
Behind her stood two smaller chickens in formal robes. One carried a scroll. The other a tiny gavel.
Yue leaned in and whispered, "You're being summoned… to poultry court."
---
Scene: Poultry Courtroom of Justice
Hen Shui sat on the judge's perch, flanked by roosters with scales on their chests and monocles over their eyes. The courtroom was eerily silent—until one rooster banged the tiny gavel.
"The defendant, Long Fei Jian, stands accused of: unlawful egg theft, trespassing on sacred coop grounds, and disruption of spiritual nesting chi."
I stood at the podium. "In my defense… I was hungry." Loud gasps echoed... A chick fainted.
Hen Shui clucked once, then opened the Forbidden Omelette Manual with her beak. It's pages glowed.
"To make amends," the chicken translator announced, "the defendant must now master the forbidden omelette arts… and defeat Hen Shui in an omelette duel."
Yue grinned. "You're so screwed."
---
Training Montage (with Egg Puns)
Yue became my unwilling coach. Every morning, she forced me through bizarre exercises.
Egg-balancing stance: Stand on one leg while holding two spirit eggs and chanting "cluck" in seven languages.
Whisk of Doom: Swing a spiritual whisk until your arms go numb.
Scramble-Fist Form: A technique so chaotic, it can turn qi into soufflé.
One week later, I faced Hen Shui in the Arena of Shells.
The crowd was silent...Two cauldrons boiled. Two eggs glowed...
I cracked mine with spiritual force and whispered the sacred chant:
"Sunny-side… die..."