I died. With a Duck!?(F*ck)

The Mortal Realm had been rocked by a name, and that one was Lu Fang. His power was whispered from one end of the world to the other, stories of a man strong enough he could level mountains with mere touch and call down storms by desire alone; fables woven about how his gaze could kill hundreds in an army at nothing more than a glance. He had slain legendaries, felled ancients and outfoxed the gods.

But there was one quality that separated him from all others, regardless of his physical achievements.

He was lazy.

Lazy to the point that it was terrifying.

Lu Fang rested upon a soft silk cushion in the yard of his pavilion on the grand peak, lazily and indolently fucking mountains around under canopy shade. A gentle breath of wind caressed the man's long black hair, his robes wafting in its playful nudging as he sighed. There was a cup of wine floating by his lips, but he did not even taste it. Which would require effort, after all.

Lu Fang sighed, his eyes half-shut with boredom,"I'm sick of this scene."

"Master Lu!" Someone in blue came running into the courtyard toward him. "Elders from Iron Blood Sect are requesting an audience. They say it's urgent."

Lu Fang didn't move. In fact, it was uncertain that he heard the servant. His eyes still on a faraway glaze focussed horizon.

"Master?"

The servant gulped nervously. Although everyone knew about Lu Fang's reputation, nobody had really dealt with him face-to-face. The rumour that he was lazy could be no exaggeration. He had once let an entire sect war resolve itself through years of bloody internecine warfare to the death while he napped because it was too far way for him if his interests were unable.

"Tell them I'm... cultivating." Lu Fang waved his hand.

"'But, master, ye have sitten so long from—'

"Indeed," said a voice from F and he did not turn to look. "I'm cultivating my patience. A rare art. Very difficult. Go on now."

The servant blinked, shocked out of whatever thoughts had been temporarily occupying his mind and knowing better than to argue. Once more he bowed then quickly left the courtyard.

Lu Fang leaned back further into his cushion, letting a contented sigh out now that the pestering was over. He really meant to start growing. Eventually. Just… after a quick nap.

In an instant, that sword to his senses was replaced with a pleasant smell of roasted duck. Lu Fang eyes suddenly opened, bright and clear. Lower down the mountain his disciples and elders from many sects were eagerly preparing a sumptuous banquet in honor of their master.

The ghost of a smile played on his lips. The only thing that could wake Lu Fang from his eternal sleep was the prospect of food. There was always time for laziness when duck had to be roasted.

He mumbled, "I volunteer my sweet ass perhaps next time…" as he rose from the bed and stretched leisurely.

When he started descending the lively nature of atmosphere. Students and sages came from every corner of the world, talking excitedly as they waited their turn to meet one such Luminary. The tales of him were everywhere, but few had actually seen it happen. His power was incontrovertible — unequivocal enough that even the gods seldom meddled in his matters.

On the flipside, Lu Fang almost never meddled in theirs as well.

Some time later, when he got to the banquet long tables were groaning with dishes that wafted everywhere to us delicious aromas. The roasted duck under the sun shining brightly gleamed; just once he finished taking a seat, plates started appearing!

Immediately, he grabbed a duck leg and chomped off some flesh. They were so flavoursome they practically melted in his mouth, and for the first time all day Lu Fang felt…happy. Perhaps today isn't the worst of days.

Until, something immovable got into his throat. That is...the duck bone!? [Chad, Did I make a mistake here?]

He stopped, gasping in a fine line as the duck bone got stuck in his throat into open air.

The fierce, fabled cultivator that Lu Fang had been — the killer of kings, the executioner of men who needed no more than his face to die…was gagging.

He tried to cough, gasp and straighten up but his body wouldn't let him do it. As he glanced around wide-eyed and in disbelief not one person seemed to blink an eye at his stress. It was all celebrations, whole table drinking on his glory.

This... Is fucking stupid, he managed to think at last, still gasping for breath. I can't die like this...

No! Hell nah, I won't die like this. Nah, I'd win.

[Lu Fang: "Nah, I'd win. The duck bone: "Nuh uh."] (Bruh)

The world was going grey — and then, in a fitting end to the story of Lu Fang, surely the most powerful cultivator that had ever stepped foot into existence since it began oh so long ago...right as he fell face first on top of an elaborately designed banquet table surrounded by hundreds upon thousands enjoying their last moments together with gleeful revelry still holding firm.

Even choking down his mouthful of roasted duck nearly sparking joy from someone's heart moth receptacle before finally giving up those gold specks were fading away too quickly (even now they vanished) leaving behind nothing but darkness...(that hangover wouldn't affect others).

That is when everything went black.

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