The tournant arena was packed with disciples, elders, sect leaders, and nobles. The crowd roared with anticipation for the next match: the legendary Hei Long was scheduled to fight.
In the shaded VIP section, Prince Wuheng sat with his arms folded, his fake smile strained like his royal waistband.
"Gentlen... it’s ti."
He snapped his fingers.
From the shadows erged his elite lackey: Banana Shen.
Yes. That was his na.
"You know your duty," Wuheng whispered.
Banana Shen nodded solemnly.
"For the Alliance."
Then, like a shadowy gremlin, he scurried out toward the arena floor during intermission, clutching a suspiciously shiny banana peel, coated in a thick layer of spiritual oil for extra slipperiness.
anwhile, in Hei Long’s Waiting Area...
Hei Long leaned back on a bench, his eyes half-lidded, as Bai Luoluo and Sheng Moxian stood nearby, casually bickering over who would cheer louder during his match.
"You should sit down," Bai Luoluo said, elbowing Moxian. "You’re too annoying when you fidget."
"Says the one whose face turns red if Hei Long looks at her for more than five seconds."
"I DO NOT."
Hei Long raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying himself. "Ladies..."
Suddenly, soone burst in.
"Senior Brother Hei Long! Your match is next!"
He rose calmly. Stretch. Crack knuckles. Swagger.
"Ti to win."
Back at the Arena...
The announcer’s voice bood:
"Next up—Hei Long of the Crimson Phoenix Sect!"
The crowd erupted.
From beneath the arena stands, Hei Long walked out into the light, his black robes billowing dramatically, golden embroidery glinting like fire.
Banana Shen, hiding behind a pillar, held his breath as Hei Long approached The Banana Zone — a precise three-ter radius in which the banana peel had been positioned at just the right slant to maximize slippage.
"Co on... slip... slip, you beautiful bastard..." Shen whispered.
Hei Long stepped forward.
One foot inches from doom.
And then—
FWIP.
A gentle breeze.
Hei Long stopped.
Bent down.
And picked up the banana peel with a frown.
He turned it in his hand.
Then looked directly at the hiding spot behind the pillar.
"You left the sticker on," Hei Long said flatly.
A scream.
Banana Shen tried to flee.
He did not get far.
Three Minutes Later...
Prince Wuheng sat in the VIP box, confused.
"Why haven’t I seen him slip yet? Where’s the drama? The humiliation?"
The announcer’s voice interrupted:
"An unexpected developnt! Hei Long has donated a suspicious banana peel to security... along with a man he called ’fruit-based assassin number one.’"
A spotlight hit Banana Shen, tied up and crying.
The crowd gasped.
"Isn’t that one of Prince Wuheng’s servants?""I thought he worked at the fruit stand.""Why was he under the arena with a banana?!"
Prince Wuheng paled.
"...Oh no."
And then, to make it worse—
Hei Long stepped into the arena again, holding a fresh banana.
"For the record..." he said loudly, peeling it. "I like mine peeled the normal way. Not as traps."
He took a casual bite. The crowd lost it.
Lin Fan, watching from behind a curtain, whispered to the old man in his head:
"Why am I on his side again?"
The old man groaned.
"I ask myself that daily."
. . . .
The prince stared at the wall, broken.
"Phase Two... a failure."
He slamd his fist onto the table.
"We go to Phase Three. We seduce his won. Send Lin Fan!"
Everyone in the room gasped.
Lin Fan blinked.
"Wait, ? To seduce his girls?"
Even the table creaked awkwardly at the suggestion.
"You’re the Anti-Flirt Operative!"
Lin Fan stood tall.
"Don’t worry. I’ve been preparing. I bought cologne made from snake glands and I practiced my eyebrow wiggling."
He wiggled.
Soone threw up in the corner.
. . . .
It began with confidence.
Too much confidence.
Lin Fan stood in front of the mirror, his robes freshly ironed, his hair slicked back with a shiny oil that slled faintly of... snake glands?
"This is it. Phase Three of Operation Petty Thunderstrike: Seduction!" he declared proudly.
The old man in his head groaned.
"Boy, I told you to take your cultivation seriously. This is your fifth day in a row doing pushups for your eyebrows."
"Seduction is cultivation!" Lin Fan argued.
He winked at himself in the mirror. It looked less like a flirt and more like a man having a stroke.
Scene: Inner Sect Courtyard
Target acquired.Sheng Moxian.
Beautiful. Cold. Dangerously stabby. Everything Lin Fan should have avoided.
She sat in the courtyard, polishing a dagger with a terrifying smile as Hei Long stood beside her, calmly sipping tea. They looked peaceful.
Lin Fan hated it.
"Ti to strike," he whispered to himself.
"Please don’t," the old man whispered back.
He strutted forward.
The hair glead. The snake-oil stench wafted like poison gas.He stopped a ter away, flashed his best attempt at a seductive smirk...
And winked.
Hard.
Too hard.
Both eyes shut.
For five seconds.
When he reopened them, Sheng Moxian was already standing, dagger raised.
"Did you just wink at like that?"
Hei Long choked on his tea, nearly spitting it all over Lin Fan.
"W-wait, wait—! That’s my signature move!" Lin Fan panicked.
"Signature of a pervert!" Sheng Moxian hissed.
She kicked Lin Fan so hard he flew backward and slamd into a decorative rock shaped like a turtle.
Outer Disciplinary Hall
Lin Fan sat in a bamboo chair, face swollen, spirit broken.
An elder squinted at the parchnt.
"So let get this straight. You winked at a woman who already has a known history of stabbing people who breathe wrong near her."
Lin Fan mumbled, "I didn’t know that part..."
"And this was after she was seen canoodling with Hei Long in the Moon Pavilion?"
"...Define canoodling."
The elder held up the restraining order.
"By decree of Ocean City and the Crimson Phoenix Sect... you are not to be within 100 ters of Sheng Moxian unless you are wearing a blindfold and escorted by two spirit guards."
Lin Fan’s mouth fell open.
"T-TWO guards?!"
The old man in his head sighed.
"Congratulations. You’ve beco the first cultivator in history to require surveillance for eye contact."
Hei Long leaned against a tree, reading a scroll. Sheng Moxian, Bai Luoluo, and even Lan Yinyin sat nearby chatting.
In the distance, Lin Fan stood awkwardly, blindfolded, being held by two very confused disciples.
"Senior Brother Hei Long...?" Lan Yinyin pointed at the ss.
Hei Long glanced up, sighed, and muttered, "Ignore the barking spirit dog."
"You an Lin Fan?" Bai Luoluo asked.
"He’s not a real dog. Dogs have more dignity."
Prince Wuheng’s War Room
The prince stared at the new report.
Operation Petty Thunderstrike: Phase Three — Result: EPIC FAILURE
"My Anti-Hei Long Weapon was defeated... by eye contact."
He looked at Lin Fan’s drawing. A crude doodle of him flexing with hearts around Sheng Moxian.
"Ti for Phase Four..."
Operation: Poison Petal.
Behind him, a group of masked assassins sneezed from the cologne Lin Fan left behind.
Reviews
All reviews (0)