Dimensional Storekeeper

Chapter 209: Old Tiger Zhao Ain’t Playing

But on the other hand…

Dou Xinshi, who had also glanced at the wall, looked as if something had physically struck him in the soul.

His eyes glazed.

Then, in one smooth motion, he dropped to one knee.

“Ten… ten Chicken-Flavored Instant Noodles… all mine…” he whispered in reverence, hands clasped together.

“This is it. My path. My calling.”

Old Tiger Zhao leaned over his shoulder with a snort. “Pffft. Kid, dream on.”

“Set your sights on five. I’m takin’ the champ spot for myself.”

He gave a confident nod, shoulders swaying.

To Old Tiger Zhao, ten instant noodles was cute.

He was dreaming bigger.

Go for the ice cream!

The games rolled on.

One after another, cue sticks were raised and chalked.

Yes, chalked.

Hao had taught them that too – how to chalk the tip properly, how it “channels energy,” and how no one really knew why it helped, but it just felt right.

Feeling a bad shot coming?

Just chalk it.

Missed three balls in a row?

More chalk.

There was something strangely comforting about it, almost spiritual. A ritual of the battlefield. Even those who didn’t believe in luck suddenly became philosophers of friction and divine angles.

Somewhere, Xiao Lianfeng was caught muttering, “It’s the chalk. I didn’t chalk enough.”

A few others nodded solemnly in agreement.

Shots were taken. The air turned focused, heavy with determination. They weren’t just playing anymore – they were preparing for war.

If they wanted to win that tournament, they couldn’t afford to waste a single round. Every turn, every strike had to count.

In the match between Xiao Lianfeng and Lin Yijun, the difference wasn’t much.

Just two balls.

But it was two balls that Xiao Lianfeng would remember for the rest of the day.

He had been leading for most of the game, riding a steady rhythm with sharp, practiced strikes. But when Lin Yijun suddenly woke up and started hitting shots in a row with that breezy, half-lazy flair of his, things went downhill fast.

The final moment came when Lin sank the 8-ball with a clean angle shot and leaned casually against the table.

“Ah, that’s that, huh?” Lin Yijun smiled.

Xiao Lianfeng stood motionless, cue in hand, his entire posture stiff.

This was how his day ended?

He hadn’t even lost by much, and yet it felt like getting bodied.

In the corner, his fists were clenched.

Xiao Lianfeng whispered, jaw tight. “I won’t lose again. I’ll train this until it’s in my bones.”

He wasn’t even angry at Lin Yijun. That was the worst part.

His sworn brother just smiled, scratched his cheek, and said. “Oops. Lucky streak, I guess?”

No. Xiao Lianfeng couldn’t accept that.

He had been two balls away.

And he had still lost.

Back in his head, plans were already forming.

He’d grab a stick – any stick, even a broom if he had to – and start drilling the stances. Shadowplay in the courtyard. Angles, posture, wrist control, breathing. All of it.

He was already replaying the match in his mind.

Where he stood too far, where he leaned too much, the way he flicked his wrist instead of following through.

’Useless.’

’I rotated my hips wrong on shot five. That’s where it fell apart.’

Forget sparring matches for now.

This was a whole new martial path.

Cue Cultivation!

Meanwhile, the match between Old Tiger Zhao and Dou Xinshi wasn’t even fair.

Dou Xinshi had walked in with high hopes and eyes burning with the passion of a devout disciple.

But Old Tiger Zhao?

That old man was playing like a demon.

After just three warm-up shots, he locked in.

And when he locked in, he never missed.

One shot, two, three – by the fifth, Dou Xinshi was no longer his opponent. He was just a witness.

Everyone else stopped what they were doing to watch.

Old Tiger Zhao’s form wasn’t elegant, but it was deadly. His movements looked casual, wild, but each strike was guided by something deeper – intuition sharpened by years of who-knows-what.

The balls vanished into pockets, one after another, like they were scared of him.

“He’s shooting like Boss Hao…”

Was this the difference?

Was this what it meant to be old?

Old in age.

Old in bones.

But experienced.

And terrifying.

The three disciples from Sovereign City shared a rare moment of unspoken unity.

Not in words. But in internal prayer.

Please don’t let me face this old monster in the first round. Please. Let him be someone else’s problem.

Even Yue Xueyan, who rarely reacted to anything, had the faintest twitch in her brow. A full-on frown might’ve been too much effort, but mentally?

She was absolutely offering a stick of incense to the heavens.

Hua Feixue clasped her hands behind her back.

’If fate loves me, he’ll face Dou Xinshi again.’

Xiao Lianfeng cracked his knuckles. ’I didn’t train every day just to be eliminated by an ice-cream uncle.’

It was the kind of dread every cultivator – or casual billiards player – could understand. That moment you realize you’re up against someone who’s not just good, but terrifyingly good.

The type of person who makes you question your hobbies.

The type that forces you to laugh nervously and go. “Hah… what if I just forfeited and watched instead?”

Lin Yijun, on the other hand, didn’t panic.

’Hmm… That’s bad news if I face the old man.’

But would he lose?

’Well.’ he glanced down at his hands, slowly flexing them.

’These two will be the judge of that.’

And more importantly…

Ten canned drinks.

His eyes sparkled faintly at the thought.

Ten.

Ten whole cans, taken straight from the shelves, no payment involved, simply strolling out as though the heavens owed him a favor.

’That’s an entire week of lazy afternoons sorted out.’

Fishing by the river? Hiking up that windy cliff trail behind the sect? Maybe swimming in the cold spring while chugging Lime Fizz?

So many choices. So few days off.

Off to the side, Dou Xinshi sat cross-legged by the wall, eyes shut tight.

He was ascending.

’Great Founder of Instant Noodle Dao… Merciful Ice Cream Immortal… Please, I beg you. Let me dodge the old man in the bracket.’

He wasn’t cultivating – this young man was literally begging!

’Please, just anyone else. Anyone.’

’I’ll even take the cold-faced senior sister. Just not the old man.’

In Dou Xinshi’s mind, victory was already his – as long as he didn’t have to face Old Tiger Zhao.

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