"A nap?"
Su Meiling's voice hit a pitch that could have shattered high-grade spiritual jade. She stood in the center of the executive office, her hands on her hips, staring at Chen Feng who had already begun testing the ergonomic tension of a $10,000 Italian leather sofa.
"Chen Feng, you are a bodyguard! You just defeated a high-tech assassin, you're currently trending on three different social media platforms, and the Crimson Shadow has likely put a bounty on your head that could buy a small island! And your primary concern is... 'Salted Fish' cultivation?"
Chen Feng adjusted a decorative silk pillow behind his head. "Meiling, you don't understand. To stabilize the Dao, one must first stabilize the self. Currently, my 'self' is annoyed by the lack of lumbar support in your father's waiting room. A relaxed Sovereign is a deadly Sovereign. A tired Sovereign might accidentally sneeze and delete the building's Wi-Fi."
Meiling opened her mouth to argue, but the sheer, unbothered aura radiating from him was like hitting a brick wall made of marshmallow. She sighed, defeated. "Fine. If you're going to be my shadow, you at least need to look the part. And we need a way to move you around that doesn't involve you critiquing the 'Qi' of my Mercedes."
Meiling took him to the Su Group's private underground garage. For Chen Feng, this was the equivalent of entering an ancient Sect's Spirit Beast Stable.
His eyes, usually dull with boredom, suddenly ignited with a predatory golden light. He didn't care about the SUVs or the armored sedans. He walked straight past a million-dollar Maybach and stopped in front of a low-slung, aggressive Lamborghini Revuelto in Arancio Apodis (a screaming metallic orange).
"This," Chen Feng whispered, running a hand over the carbon fiber. "This beast has the skeletal structure of a Fire-Winged Chimera. Its lungs breathe gasoline and its heart beats with the rhythm of compressed explosions."
"It's a supercar, Chen Feng. It's loud, impractical, and—"
"It is a Flying Sword with four wheels," Chen Feng interrupted. "Meiling, the Dao of the Road is written in aerodynamics. I must have this. I shall call it 'The Orange Flash of Tribulation.'"
"You don't even have a driver's license!"
"I have navigated the Star-Stream of the Seventh Nebula without a map," Chen Feng said, already pulling a pair of high-end aviator sunglasses from a nearby display case.
The Accessories: The New Magic Tools
This was the beginning of Chen Feng's true descent into 21st-century materialism. He didn't care for money, but he was obsessed with Accessories.
To a former Sovereign, a watch wasn't just for telling time; it was a "Temporal Measurement Array." A pair of designer sunglasses was a "Glow-Dampening Eye Shield."
By the end of the afternoon, Chen Feng had convinced Meiling's father (who was so terrified of the 'Sand-Paperweight' incident that he agreed to anything) to provide:
A Richard Mille watch: "The gears move with the precision of a celestial clock. It helps me time my snacks."
A Bespoke Suit with Silver Thread: "Conductive. Good for lightning-based counter-attacks. Also, it makes my shoulders look 'divine,' according to the tailor."
A High-End Smartphone with a custom 'Dragon' Case: "The portal to the Bean Dao app."
As they prepared to leave, a familiar buzzing sound echoed through the garage. Xiao Bo, the delivery boy from earlier, came skidding in on his electric moped. He looked different. His eyes were bloodshot, but he was grinning like a madman.
"Master! Master Chen!" Xiao Bo tumbled off his bike. "I did it! I timed the breathing! I hit seventeen green lights in a row! I delivered a bowl of ramen from the North District to the South District in six minutes! The customer said it was still boiling when it arrived!"
Chen Feng nodded approvingly. "You have felt the pulse of the City Dao. But your mount is weak, Xiao Bo. It lacks 'soul.'"
Chen Feng walked over to the plastic-covered moped. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a tiny, discarded shard of the Frost-Fire Essence Core he had tried to use at the convenience store. He pressed it into the moped's battery pack.
The scooter shuddered. The lead-acid battery hummed with a low, predatory growl. The plastic trimmings suddenly aligned themselves for maximum downforce.
"Go," Chen Feng commanded. "Deliver your noodles with the speed of a falling star. But remember: if you hit a pedestrian, the karma is on you."
Xiao Bo hopped on, twisted the throttle, and disappeared out of the garage in a blur of blue sparks, leaving a scent of ozone and spicy pork broth behind.
Meiling watched the spot where the boy had been. "You just turned a delivery scooter into a cruise missile."
"I gave him a career path," Chen Feng said, adjusting his new sunglasses and sliding into the driver's seat of the orange Lamborghini.
"Now, Meiling, show me where the 'Pedal of Agony' is. We have a 'Salted Fish' lunch to attend."