The path to Rotten Apple City was rugged, cutting through jagged mountains and shadowed by blood-red skies. By the time Wei Feng arrived, the sun was setting, casting an ominous glow over the sprawling city. Its towering gates loomed ahead, rusted and scarred by time and countless battles. The air reeked of sweat, filth, and something far more sinister—desperation.
At the city gates, Wei Feng's companion—a tall, muscular man with salt-and-pepper hair tied in a messy bun—stopped abruptly. His once regal appearance, marked by an expensive crimson robe embroidered with golden alchemical sigils, had been stripped away. In its place, he now wore a loose, cheap robe stained with dust and grime, blending seamlessly with the downtrodden locals. Even his sharp, sagely aura had been muted, his posture slouched and his expression lazy, making him look more like a wanderer than the powerful cultivator he truly was.
Wei Feng, too, had undergone a transformation. Using a secret technique he had purchased at great cost, he altered his facial features to blend in with the chaotic surroundings. His sharp, noble visage had been replaced by a more weathered, unremarkable appearance—his eyes duller, his nose slightly crooked, and his jawline softer. Even his aura was meticulously restrained, making him appear like any other desperate vagabond trying to eke out a living in the city.
The old man turned to Wei Feng, his expression shifting between amusement and irritation. "Alright, kid, let's make something crystal clear." He jabbed a finger at Wei Feng's chest. "I'm not your babysitter. The Peak Master might think you're worth keeping alive, but if you can't fend for yourself, you're not worth squat. This place will eat you alive if you're soft. And honestly…" He smirked, "I'm here to have some fun."
Wei Feng raised an eyebrow, his tone measured. "Fun? In this cesspool of a city?"
The old man's grin widened. "Oh, you've got no idea, do you? Rotten Apple City may be a cesspool, but it's got its… charms. Women, gambling, wine—ah, it's a paradise for a man who knows how to live." He stretched, his gaze drifting to the chaos ahead. "The Peak Master sent me here as a backup plan, but between you and me, that's only in case you die. And let's be honest, if you can't survive this place, you're not worth his notice anyway."
Wei Feng narrowed his eyes, his mind racing. *So I'm just a contingency. Typical. Even in this world, people are just tools to be used and discarded.*
The old man suddenly laughed, his voice echoing down the road. "Anyway, I'm off! Don't die too soon, kid. It'd be a shame if I couldn't hear the Peak Master's reaction to your corpse being sent back." He waved lazily and sauntered into the city with the confidence of a man who feared nothing, vanishing into the chaos of Rotten Apple City.
Just as Wei Feng was about to turn and head into the city himself, the old man paused mid-step, his head tilting slightly as if he'd forgotten something. He turned back with a mischievous grin, patting the loose robe that hung from his shoulders. "Oh yeah," he said, his tone exaggeratedly casual. "As a super-duper cool senior, I can't leave you here empty-handed."
He rummaged through the folds of his robe, the movement slow and deliberate, as if mocking the urgency of Wei Feng's situation. Finally, he pulled out a small pill, its surface glowing faintly with an otherworldly luster. Without a second thought, he tossed it toward Wei Feng, who caught it instinctively.
"Here," the old man said, turning away with a lazy wave. "Don't waste it."
Wei Feng glanced at the pill in his palm, his brows furrowing. The pill radiated a faint, soothing warmth, and even without analyzing it, he could sense its potency. *A healing pill? No, it's more than that… this feels like it has heavy healing properties, possibly even capable of saving me in a life-or-death situation.*
The gesture reminded him of the uncles on Earth who would dig through their pockets to give a child spare change for candy. He let out a small scoff, pocketing the pill.
Wei Feng watched the old man vanish into the chaos of Rotten Apple City, a mixture of irritation and begrudging admiration swirling in his chest. He clenched his fists, his altered face set with determination.
"I'll survive, old man," Wei Feng muttered under his breath. "I don't need anyone's protection."
---
As Wei Feng entered the city, his senses were immediately assaulted. Rotten Apple City was chaos incarnate, a seething pit of crime and debauchery. Narrow streets twisted in every direction, lined with rickety wooden stalls selling everything from counterfeit talismans to poisoned daggers. Faint screams echoed in the distance, blending with drunken laughter and the clash of steel.
The city pulsed with activity, a carnival of sin. Gambling dens spilled over with rowdy cultivators betting their fortunes—or their lives—on rigged games. Women dressed in gaudy silks beckoned from shadowy alleys, their painted faces concealing the hollowness in their eyes. Slaves—men, women, and even children—were paraded like livestock, their chains clinking as merchants shouted bids. Every corner of the city reeked of corruption, exploitation, and blood.
But what struck Wei Feng the most was the sharp divide at the city's heart.
There, rising like an island amidst a sea of chaos, stood a massive wall. It was pristine, made of polished stone, and guarded by armored cultivators whose auras radiated oppressive strength. Beyond the wall, Wei Feng could make out the tops of grand mansions, their golden rooftops glinting in the dying sunlight.
Riches amidst ruin. Social inequality at its peak.
Wei Feng's gaze darkened. This world is no different from mine. The strong feast while the weak are devoured.
With no clear plan in mind, Wei Feng decided to start where information flowed like cheap wine—one of the city's many bars.
---
The bar was dimly lit and packed with criminals of every stripe. The stench of sweat, booze, and unwashed bodies hung thick in the air. Cultivators leaned against the walls, their weapons close at hand, while groups of bandits and mercenaries huddled around tables, their laughter harsh and guttural. Shadows flickered across the grimy walls as the light from weak lanterns barely pushed back the oppressive darkness.
Wei Feng stepped inside, his face calm but his senses on high alert. He knew the type of people who frequented places like this—cutthroats who wouldn't think twice about robbing or killing a stranger. His disguised features gave him anonymity, but in a place like this, caution was everything.
He approached the bar, where a burly man with a scar running down his cheek was polishing a mug with a filthy rag. The bartender glanced at Wei Feng, his eyes narrowing with suspicion. "What'll it be?"
Wei Feng slid a small pouch of spirit stones onto the counter. "Information."
The bartender snorted, his lips curling into a sneer. "Depends on what you're looking for—and how much you're willing to pay."
Wei Feng leaned in slightly, lowering his voice so it barely carried over the dull roar of the room. "I'm looking for a Qi Condensation cultivator accused of stealing a secret cultivation manual from a caravan. Male, mid-thirties, scruffy beard, scar over his left eye. Word is, he's in this city."
The bartender's expression darkened, and for a moment, Wei Feng thought he might refuse. Then, with a grunt, the man pocketed the pouch and leaned closer. "You're talking about Zhou Kai, a slippery bastard if there ever was one. He's been seen around the gambling dens near the east district. But watch your back—he's got friends, and they don't take kindly to people asking questions."
Wei Feng nodded, his mind already calculating his next steps. But before he could leave, a low, rasping voice cut through the din of the bar, loud enough to silence the room.
"Do you know what I hate more than bitches and snitches?" The speaker, a tall man wearing a wide-brimmed straw hat, rose from a nearby table. His voice dripped with malice. "Fucking pigs from bounty associations."
The room fell into an uneasy silence. The man turned to face Wei Feng, and beneath the shadow of his hat, his most striking feature became apparent—his ears. They were unnaturally large and pointed, resembling those of a bat, and twitched slightly as if listening for something. A glint of silver near the base of each ear suggested they were the result of a cruel surgical enhancement, likely to boost his hearing.
The straw-hatted man stepped closer, his voice rising. "You all know what to do with pigs, don't you?" The room erupted in a chorus of malicious laughter, weapons drawn and eyes filled with bloodlust. The atmosphere grew heavy with killing intent, the smell of sweat and steel saturating the air.
Wei Feng kept his calm, his eyes subtly flicking around the room. He activated his internal technique, carefully scanning the meridians of everyone present. Most of the thugs were ordinary—non-cultivators or those with just a single open meridian. *Nothing I can't handle.*
But then his eyes landed on the man in the straw hat. His chest tightened slightly. The man had two open meridians, making him significantly more dangerous than the others. *So he doesn't just bark—he actually bites.*
Wei Feng exhaled softly, loosening his shoulders while keeping his senses sharp. The odds weren't great, but he'd faced worse. His fingers flexed slightly as he prepared for a fight.
The man in the straw hat smirked, his bat-like ears twitching again. "What's the matter, pig? No clever words? No bribes? Guess we'll just have to cut you up and see if you squeal."
The room's hostility closed in like a tightening noose. Wei Feng's lips curled into a faint smile, his mind sharpening as he prepared for chaos. "Let's see who really squeals," he muttered under his breath.