“That went much better than I expected,” Ning thought as he made his way back.

  Not only had he won, but he’d come out completely uninjured. That alone was a significant advantage; there would be no need to waste time or resources on treatment before the later rounds.

  As he was mentally patting himself on the back for saving himself yet another spirit stone, he was surrounded.

  “Ji Ning!”

  “That was fast, way too fast! I only just saw some fog, and before I knew it, the battle was over."

  “Did you even break a sweat?!”

  Zhang Feng was right at the center of it, practically vibrating with excitement. “That was amazing! You really showed them the power of youth!” he declared loudly, as if the entire arena needed to hear it.

  Ning paused, then smiled helplessly. “You’re exaggerating. And besides, you helped too.”

  “Huh?” Zhang Feng blinked. “I did?”

  “You did,” Ning said earnestly. “Training together, sparring, exchanging techniques, it all helped sharpen my combat experience.”

  Zhang Feng froze for a moment, then laughed loudly. “So that’s how it is! Then I’ll take some credit too. Looks like all those trainings were worth it!"

  Ning smiled.

  He was not exaggerating.

  While in his past, he had seen some fighting tutorials due to the shorts boom, he never had the chance to use them.

  So when it came to real fighting experience, it was minimal at best, the kind that existed only in his watch history, not in his muscle memory.

  If not for careful preparation, repetition, and the constant honing of his fighting instincts, he would never have reached this point.

  Strength, after all, wasn’t built in isolation.

  “Next time it’s my turn,” Zhang Feng said enthusiastically, clenching his fist. “I’ll make sure I don’t embarrass myself after watching that!”

  A short distance away, Wei Zhusang and Lang Rulang observed quietly.

  Wei Zhusang’s expression was thoughtful. “That was… unexpected.”

  Lang Rulang crossed her arms, her gaze lingering on Ning. “We only recruited him on a whim back then.”

  “And now?” Wei Zhusang asked.

  “Now,” Lang Rulang replied coolly, “he’s a proper competitor.”

  Wei Zhusang nodded in agreement.

  It wasn’t arrogance. For people like them, raised and trained with the full backing of their clans’ resources, techniques, and inherited knowledge, it was simply difficult for ordinary disciples to compete on equal footing.

  At first, they had only approached Ning because of his five-element attribute. Beyond that, they hadn’t thought much of him. It was only after he demonstrated clear talent in spellcasting that he truly caught their attention.

  And now?

  He had already reached the fifth stage of Qi Condensation, one of the highest cultivation levels among the newcomers, rivaling even their own.

  Wei Zhusang spoke calmly. “The fog concealed most of his methods, but his control was obvious. Battlefield awareness, positioning, timing, those aren’t things you can fake.” He paused slightly. “Especially since I still can’t figure out how he tracked others inside that fog. If we crossed paths, he might actually give me some trouble.”

  Lang Rulang tilted her head, a faint glint in her eyes. “That’s high praise coming from you. Would you lose, then?”

  Wei Zhusang didn’t hesitate. A small smile tugged at his lips.

  “Nah,” he said simply. “I’d win.”

  Ning hadn’t even fully recovered from the barrage of congratulations when a hand suddenly grabbed his sleeve and tugged sharply.

  “Junior Brother Ning!”

  Ning turned, surprised, to see Xin Fu standing there, slightly out of breath, his face flushed with excitement.

  “Huh?” Ning blinked. “What’s wrong?”

  Xin Fu leaned in and lowered his voice, though the excitement still leaked through. “All the products are sold out.”

  “…Sold out?” Ning repeated, genuinely taken aback.

  “Yes! Completely!” Xin Fu nodded vigorously. “Every single one. We don’t have anything left.”

  Ning paused for a moment, processing that.

  As someone who was constantly lacking spirit stones, he’d long since developed a habit of spotting opportunities in crowded places. An outer sect competition, packed with disciples and spectators who would be stuck watching matches for hours, was the perfect environment.

  So he’d done what came naturally.

  He opened a small stall.

  Of course, setting up a stall during the Outer Sect Competition required a permit. But with Elder Shen backing him, that problem was resolved almost immediately. The bigger issue was that Ning himself still had to participate in the competition; he couldn’t exactly man the stall all day.

  That was where Xin Fu came in.

  After the Spiritual Farmer assessment, the two had stayed in touch. Most of the time, it was Xin Fu asking questions, preparing for another attempt at an assessment. He might not have been particularly sharp, but he had experience, and more importantly, he was trustworthy.

  So Ning recruited him to manage the stall.

  As for what they sold?

  Food. Just food.

  He’d brought out some… inspired creations pulled straight from his transmigrated junk-food memories, things like marshmallows, cotton candy, and other oddities that were more of a novelty than nourishment.

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  He hadn’t expected much.

  Yet somehow,

  “So soon?” Ning muttered, staring at the empty stall. “I thought it would at least last until the afternoon.”

  Xin Fu scratched his head awkwardly. “I thought so too. At first, things were selling at a normal pace. Then one person showed up and ate everything. He even asked for more. And… he’s still here.”

  Ning raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

  Xin Fu pointed discreetly.

  Near the edge of the plaza stood a round-faced, heavily built man. His robes were stretched tight over his stomach, and he was holding an empty paper cone, staring at it with unmistakable sorrow, as if hoping more cotton candy might magically reappear.

  As if sensing Ning’s gaze, the man looked up.

  Their eyes met.

  The man’s face lit up instantly.

  “There you are!” he boomed, waddling over at surprising speed. “Brother! Are you selling more of that fluffy stuff? It melts in your mouth! I’ve never tasted anything like it!”

  Ning: “…”

  Xin Fu leaned in and whispered urgently, “That’s him.”

  The fat man leaned closer, eyes shining. “I’ll pay double. No, triple! Just spin me another one.”

  “We’re… completely sold out,” Xin Fu muttered.

  The man froze.

  “…Completely?”

  Seeing his crestfallen expression, Ning narrowed his eyes.

  “Well, I’ve prepared another batch for tomorrow-” Ning began, only to be interrupted.

  “Can you bring it out now?” the man asked quickly.

  “Sure,” Ning replied smoothly. “If someone likes my food that much, it wouldn’t be right to deny them.”

  He handed a jade token to Xin Fu. “Senior Brother, go to Elder Shen. I’ve stored most of the supplies with him since he has a space pouch.”

  “Alright!” Xin Fu didn’t hesitate. Taking the jade token, he hurried off without wasting a second.

  Ning then turned back to the man. “I’m Ji Ning. And you are?”

  “Ji Ning… that name sounds familiar,” the man said thoughtfully, then patted his chest. “I’m Li Langtian. Everyone just calls me Fatty Li.”

  He glanced at Ning with interest. “So, are you a Spiritual Chef? Anyone who can make food like that should be famous, but I’ve never seen you in the Spiritual Chef Hall.”

  “Spiritual Chef? No,” Ning said. “I’m just a farmer. The food is only novel; it doesn’t have any enhancement effects like true spiritual cuisine.”

  “I see,” Fatty Li said, nodding seriously. “But don’t sell yourself short. Innovation alone deserves praise.”

  “I think the praise belongs to you,” Ning replied. “I remember you’re one of the newcomers who passed the Spiritual Chef certification among the newcomers."

  Spiritual Chef was one of the hundred secondary professions, and passing its assessment as a newcomer was no small feat.

  “Haha, you’ve heard of me?” Fatty Li rubbed his head, barely suppressing his grin.

  “Of course. Are you participating in the competition?” Ning asked. He hadn’t seen Fatty Li listed in the information list about competitors.

  “Nope. I’m just here to cheer for my friend.” Hm...

  “Oh?” Ning tilted his head. “May I ask who?”

  “Of course! My good brother, Xiao Fan,” Fatty Li said proudly. “You might’ve heard of him, he’s incredible.”

  And just like that, he launched into an enthusiastic retelling of Xiao Fan’s exploits, from stumbling upon rare spiritual bees to narrowly surviving absurd dangers.

  Ning nodded and listened.

  As expected.

  Fatty Li was acquainted with the ‘protagonist’ Xiao Fan, close enough to count as one of his only friends in the outer sect.

  Immediately, Ning recognized the role.

  The classic protagonist’s fatty friend.

  To be honest, after discovering that Xiao Fan was a xianxia protagonist, Ning had briefly considered becoming that very character himself. After all, according to common tropes, that friend always received mysterious power-ups just to keep pace with the protagonist.

  Unfortunately, fate had already filled that position.

  Since Xiao Fan already had a Fatty Li, Ning didn’t force it.

  Instead, he chatted along. Once Fatty Li realized Ning also knew Xiao Fan, he became even more animated.

  “I remember now! So you’re Ning? Xiao Fan mentioned you,” Fatty Li said warmly.

  “Oh?” Ning asked. “What did he say?”

  “He complained that you trusted his luck too much and gave him a ridiculously troublesome task,” Fatty Li said, scratching his head. “Something about finding a beast?”

  “I see,” Ning nodded. So Xiao Fan was still working on that.

  They waited another twenty minutes. Xin Fu still hadn’t returned.

  Which meant Ning had no choice but to keep listening to Fatty Li talk. And the longer he listened, the more excited Fatty Li became. He talked endlessly, pausing only to sip water before continuing at full speed.

  Finally, Ning pointed toward a nearby crowd. “Those people seem to be betting on the competition.”

  Fatty Li’s eyes sparkled.

  Yes. Focus on something else. Please.

  “I want to check it out!” Fatty Li declared, already walking off.

  Ning sighed and followed.

  ...

  In this world, gambling was nothing unusual.

  Most of the time, it revolved around spirit ores, but a very close second was gambling on fights.

  After all, fights were everywhere.

  People fought if someone looked at them a moment too long.

  They fought to settle grudges.

  They fought because there was nothing else to do.

  It wasn’t without reason that Ning was cautious around others.

  Similarly, where there was conflict in such abundance, naturally, people would capitalize on it.

  Unlike the shady gambling dens Ning had imagined, this place was openly sanctioned by the sect. Formations glowed faintly along the walls, and several floating jade boards hovered in the air, constantly updating with names, odds, and brackets. Attendants sat behind long counters, calmly recording wagers as spirit stones clinked nonstop.

  Fatty Li’s eyes shone as he scanned the boards.

  “Whoa… they really have everything,” he muttered. “Single-match bets, advancement bets, top ten, even champion wagers.”

  Ning followed his gaze, quickly understanding the layout. The odds shifted in real time as information from the arenas streamed in. It was efficient.

  "It seems this place is quite professional," Ning remarked in satisfaction.

  Ning wasn’t unfamiliar with betting houses. There was one operating near the training grounds.

  The reason he had never visited it, however, was simple: it was unofficial. Those places were usually run by small factions backed by inner sect disciples. Profitable, yes, but also risky. If something went wrong, there was no one to appeal to, and the chance of being cheated, or worse, was far too high.

  That was why Ning felt satisfied now.

  This betting hall was run directly by the sect. As long as he didn’t attract unnecessary attention, it was safe enough.

  Fatty Li then said, hurriedly, ”Let's go and place the bets now."

  Without another word, he strode up to the counter and slapped down a heavy pouch.

  “I’m betting on Xiao Fan,” he announced loudly. “Champion bet. He’s taking the whole tournament.”

  The attendant paused for a heartbeat, then nodded and began recording the wager.

  Several nearby disciples turned to look.

  A moment later, a sharp, mocking laugh rang out.

  “Did I hear that correctly?”

  A tall youth in Xiao Clan robes stepped forward, arms crossed, his eyes full of disdain.

  “Someone actually bet on Xiao Fan?” Xiao Hong sneered. “What a joke.”

  Fatty Li’s face flushed. “What’s wrong with that?! I can bet on whoever I want!”

  “On trash?” Xiao Hong scoffed. “That’s just throwing stones into the gutter.”

  Fatty Li opened his mouth to fire back,

  “Say that again.”

  The voice was cold.

  Xiao Fan had appeared beside them, his expression unreadable as he met Xiao Hong’s gaze.

  Xiao Hong’s smile widened. “Oh? The trash himself decided to show up.”

  Fatty Li immediately waved his arms. “Brother Xiao, don’t, this guy, ”

  Xiao Fan ignored him.

  “Watch your words,” he said quietly.

  Xiao Hong leaned forward, eyes sharp. “Or what?”

  The air between them tightened, tension coiling like a drawn bowstring.

  Then, both of their jade tokens flared with light.

  At the same time.

  A clear announcement echoed from the arena.

  “Those whose tokens are chosen, please enter the arena.”

  The surrounding chatter fell dead silent.

  Xiao Hong stared at the glowing jade token in his hand, then burst out laughing.

  “Perfect.”

  “Exactly,” Xiao Fan replied calmly. He smiled as well, but the look in his eyes was cold enough to make the air around him feel heavier.

  That expression only angered Xiao Hong further.

  “I won’t show you any mercy in the arena,” he said sharply.

  “We will see.” Xiao Fan answered simply.

  Xiao Hong snorted and turned away, striding toward his assigned arena.

  Xiao Fan, meanwhile, walked back toward them. He clapped a hand on Fatty Li’s shoulder and said, “Don’t worry. Your spirit stones won’t go to waste.”

  Then he nodded at Ning as greeting.

  “Do your best. I am betting on you to win as well,” Ning smiled.

  Xiao Fan paused, then turned around and waved lazily as he walked off.

  As expected of a protagonist. Even now, he still remembered to act cool at moments like this.

  “Well… that escalated fast.” Ning couldn't help but think so.

  "Yes. But I am sure Brother Fan will be fine." Fatty LI spoke, reassuring himself more than anything.

  "I agree." Ning stepped forward calmly and placed his own pouch of spirit stones on the counter.

  “All of it,” Ning said evenly. “Xiao Fan. Next match.”

  The attendant glanced at the wager, then at Ning. “Are you sure?"

  Ning nodded.

  Sometimes going all in was also a type of wisdom. Especially in a case like this.

  ...

  Thanks for reading~