Patricia grinded her teeth as she stared at her television screen. On it, there was a news report about an old man claiming to be the strongest and most athletic cultivator in the intergalactic society. His evidence? Gold medals in every competition he was allowed to take part in during the Bread Games. To an average person, that was very convincing evidence, but to Patricia, it was bullshit. “Does this old man really think he’s the greatest?” She turned towards the person sitting across the room from her. “If you attended the Bread Games, all those gold medals would be in your hands instead of his.”

“Didn’t I tell you to stop watching the news?” the cultivator asked in return. “It’s good to be informed, but watching too much of it will cast deep shadows on your soul. Wallowing in the darkness of society will inevitably contaminate you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Patricia said and rolled her eyes. What shadows? What contamination? If watching the news was so detrimental, the government wouldn’t allow news stations to broadcast twenty-four seven. “It’s still bullshit though, don’t you think?”

The cultivator shook his head. “He has a right to be arrogant. He defeated everyone in everything he competed in, and those people he defeated were supposed to be the best of the best.”

“But the real experts don’t care about fame and fortune, so they don’t attend the Bread Games in the first place,” Patricia said. “It’s like how you’re capable of defeating soul-seed cultivators despite only being in the nascent-soul stage, but no one knows about it because you don’t show off.”

“This man’s boasts don’t bother me, so I don’t understand why you’re so upset,” the cultivator said and scratched his head. He was Patricia’s older cousin, but he was several hundreds of years older than her. Cultivators had long life spans, and as such, keeping track of familial ties could be confusing at times. If someone had a child while they were twenty and had another child when they were eight hundred years old, depending on the first child, the second child could be born as a great-great-great-great-great-great uncle with dozens of great-great-great-great-great-great-great nieces and nephews who were all older than him.

“I’m upset because his attitude pisses me off!” Patricia said, her brow furrowing. “Just look at him, looking all smug and shit. Sure, he beat some people, but that doesn’t mean he’s the strongest. Why don’t you challenge him to a duel?” Patricia’s eyes lit up, and she stared at her older cousin. “I bet we can make a killing off the bets if that were to happen.”

“I thought I told you to stay away from gambling as well,” the Patricia’s cousin said. He wasn’t sure why this cousin of his was so unruly, but he suspected it had something to do with the woman his uncle had married. She had a horrible personality, and if it weren’t for the fact his uncle could beat him, Patricia’s cousin wouldn’t show any ounce of respect towards his aunt-in-law. “Cultivators should have a kind heart, a clean body, and a clear conscience.”

“I know, I know,” Patricia said. “Don’t be evil. Do good things. Don’t damage your body through earthly temptations. You tell me this all the time.”

“If you actually listened, I would only have to say those words once instead of all the time,” Patricia’s cousin said and shook his head.

“We both know I can’t cultivate,” Patricia said. “Since that’s the case, why do I have to behave like a cultivator? The heavens let me down, so in return, I’ll let them down as well.” She turned her head back towards the television, and it didn’t take long for the sound of grinding teeth to permeate the room once more. She turned back towards her cousin. “Alright, maybe you aren’t willing to teach him a lesson, but surely, you’ll let me contact one of your friends, so I can convince them to do it, right?”

“Did Vremya do something to you personally?” Patricia’s cousin asked. “Why would you go so far as to provoke someone like him when he hasn’t done anything to offend you?”

“He embarrassed Derrick on intergalactic television!”

“Who’s Derrick?”

“My boyfriend!”

Patricia’s cousin’s brow furrowed. He knew his words wouldn’t get through to this younger cousin of his. However, he still had to try. Even droplets of water could eventually bore through a boulder with enough time and persistence. “I believe I warned you about the perils of having a boyfriend.”

“Can you stop lecturing me? My parents do it enough when I’m at home!” Patricia furrowed her brows. “Derrick lost to an old man in an arm-wrestling contest. Isn’t that super embarrassing? As his girlfriend, how am I supposed to show my face around people?”

“He lost to someone who won forty-three gold medals at the Bread Games,” Patricia’s cousin said. “There’s nothing embarrassing about losing to someone like that; in fact, Derrick can probably brag about the event to all his friends.”

Patricia pursed her lips and crossed her arms. “Think of how much more he could brag if he actually won!”

Patricia’s cousin shook his head. “Don’t let your emotions get the best of you,” he said. “Emotions are merely a signal from your body to your brain similar to hunger or thirst. If you let them control you, how will you ever be in control of your own fate?”

“Who cares? It’s not like I can cultivate anyway.”

“That’s not necessarily true,” Patricia’s cousin said, his eyes glinting. “Do you remember the legend of the phoegon I told you about?”

“The weird crossbreed child of the phoenix and the dragon you told me about when I was little?” Patricia asked. “What does a children’s fairytale have to do with me cultivating?”

“It’s not a fairytale,” Patricia’s cousin said. “A phoegon’s egg has been discovered, and during the next great gathering of the cultivators, it’ll hatch. If someone bathes in the egg’s amniotic fluid, they’ll immediately gain the strength of a soul-seed cultivator.”

Patricia raised an eyebrow. Then, her expression darkened. “I thought cultivators were supposed to have a kind heart,” she said. “How are you going to tease me like this and claim you’re not bullying me?”

“I’m not joking,” Patricia’s cousin said. “I’ll bring you to the next gathering.” His gaze landed on the figure in the television screen. “There’s a chance he’ll end up going to the gathering as well.” Even though he thought his cousin was whimsical and unreasonable, in the end, she was still family. If she wanted him to teach someone a lesson, then he’d do it. Grandpa Vremya really was a bit insufferable with his bragging, and the way he treated his opponents during the match, it was toxic. It was fine to throw off his opponent’s mental state to gain an advantage, but did he really have to insult his opponent’s mother’s weight?

***

“Great gathering of the cultivators?” Grandpa Vremya asked, staring at the message on his screen. “What’s this about?” He turned towards Azalea, who had sent the message to him in the first place.

“It’s a gathering that happens once every eight hundred eighty-eight years,” Azalea said. “Considering the time the Moon Lotus World has been a part of the intergalactic society, one could say we’re quite lucky we joined before the gathering occurred, or we would’ve had to wait eight hundred eighty-eight years to attend.”

“It really is quite lucky, huh?” Grandpa Vremya muttered. Well, his luck had always been good. His starting position in life was really quite fortunate. One could say things always went his way. “Do I have to attend this gathering?” He already had plans for the future, and the gathering might get in the way.

“Apparently, there’s going to be a legendary phoegon’s egg there,” Azalea said. “It’s the child of a phoenix and a dragon. People say if you bathe in the egg’s—”

“I know what it does,” Grandpa Vremya said. He raised an eyebrow. “Is the egg hatching soon?”

“That’s what the rumors say.”

Grandpa Vremya stroked his beard. “Alright,” he said. “Let’s attend this gathering. It would be rude for us to decline the invitation.” After a short pause, he met Azalea’s eyes. “Who invited us?”

“Mr. Morgan.”

“Who?”

“He’s the man who said no one defeats him twice right before you defeated him for a second time,” Azalea said. “You encountered him in the last competition of the Bread Games. The gathering might be a trap, but—”

“We’re going,” Grandpa Vremya said.

“Are you sure? It might be dangerous,” Azalea said. “You have confidence in becoming a soul-seed cultivator even without this miracle egg fluid, don’t you?”

“It’s not for me,” Grandpa Vremya said and rolled his eyes. “It’s for you. With your talent, how long will it take you to become a soul-seed cultivator? If you take a bath in the amniotic fluid, you’ll be able to keep up with me for a little longer.”

“Listen here, I’m still your senior sister!” Azalea placed her hands on her hips. Her face was flushed red. “I reached foundation establishment, golden core, and nascent soul before you, alright? I’m not the slow one!” She lowered her head, and added in a small voice, “But thank you for thinking about me.”