Chapter 8: The Gourmand Alliance

Xu Baozhu stared, utterly transfixed, at her own suddenly depleted snack packet. Her plump cheeks were frozen in an expression of pure, unadulterated "But… I was just being polite!" astonishment. The sheer volume the other girl had taken—a decisive, unhesitating fistful!—left her momentarily speechless.

Gu Qingxi suppressed a smile. The round-faced girl's dumbfounded expression was genuinely endearing. "Here," she offered, producing another vacuum-sealed packet—this one containing thin, golden-brown slices dusted with fine salt and spices. "Try these. Crispy potato slices." She deftly tore open the corner before handing it over, noting Baozhu's earlier struggle with the packaging.

"Oh!" Xu Baozhu's momentary shock evaporated, replaced by sparkling curiosity. She peered at the unfamiliar, crinkly material and the vivid image of sliced tubers printed on it. Gingerly, she extracted a thin, pale gold chip. A tentative bite—CRUNCH! Salty, savory, impossibly light and crisp! Her eyes widened like saucers. "This… this is potato?! How is it so thin? So crispy! And this flavor… divine!" She beamed at Gu Qingxi, crumbs clinging adorably to her lower lip. "You like savory snacks too?"

"Not exclusively," Gu Qingxi replied, watching the delight spread across Baozhu's expressive face. She paused, letting the suspense build for a heartbeat. "I like all delicious things. Sweet, salty, sour, spicy… if it tastes good, I crave it."

"Ahhh!" Xu Baozhu practically vibrated with joy, clapping her hands together. "A kindred spirit! I'm Xu Baozhu! And you?"

"Gu Qingxi." Qingxi's gaze lingered on Baozhu's delightfully plump cheeks. They looked incredibly… pinchable. "Baozhu," she continued, pulling out a tightly wrapped bundle of dark, fibrous strips, "want some wind-dried beef jerky? Spicy."

"Yes! Yes, please!" Baozhu's head bobbed vigorously. She dove into her own exquisitely embroidered spatial pouch, emerging with a sizable waxed-paper parcel. "Here! Candied winter plums! My mother's secret recipe!" She snatched the offered jerky, tearing off a piece with her teeth. The intense, smoky-spicy flavor bloomed on her tongue, followed by a satisfying chewiness. She sighed blissfully. "Mmm! Heavenly! I also have osmanthus cakes! Sugar-roasted chestnuts! Oh! And five-spice melon seeds…" Like a magician pulling rabbits from a hat, she continued extracting small, fragrant bundles from her seemingly bottomless pouch, piling them into Gu Qingxi's waiting arms.

Gu Qingxi chuckled, accepting the growing mountain of treats. The girl reminded her fiercely of her cousin's pet hamster in her pre-apocalypse life—a tiny, furry hoarder.

"My thanks." Gu Qingxi smiled, adjusting the armload of snacks. Xu Baozhu, however, remained fixed in place, her large, hopeful eyes fixed unblinkingly on Gu Qingxi's spatial bracelet. The unspoken request hung heavy in the air.

Ah. The barter instinct. Gu Qingxi understood perfectly. With an inward smile, she dipped her hand back into the bracelet's storage dimension.

Xu Baozhu leaned forward, eyes wide with anticipation, practically holding her breath.

"Tsk! The little glutton's got a nose for quality!" Wuling Laozu's voice dripped with sarcastic amusement in Gu Qingxi's mind. "She knows your strange snacks taste better than her provincial fare! Trying to swap her mediocre dried fruit for your treasures! Did you see her face when you took that generous handful of her peanuts? Pure, unadulterated heartache! Priceless!"

Ignoring the spectral peanut gallery, Gu Qingxi produced a flat, colorful foil packet labeled with strange symbols and a picture of brown, bubbly squares. "Chocolate," she explained, tearing it open and offering a piece to Baozhu. "Sweet. Rich."

Xu Baozhu accepted it reverently. The smooth, dark square melted luxuriously on her tongue, an intense cocoa richness mingled with a subtle sweetness unlike any honey or sugar she'd known. "Oh…!" was all she managed, her eyes fluttering shut in ecstasy. She carefully stored the remaining chocolate pieces like precious gems, already mentally cataloging her stash for future trades.

"Focusing on base appetites when one treads the path of cultivation? A sure sign of a shallow Dao heart and limited future!" The sharp, disdainful voice cut through the companionable munching. A girl nearby, clad in richly embroidered silks with an ornate, jeweled sword strapped prominently to her back, glared at them, her nose wrinkled in distaste.

"What skin is it off her nose?" Gu Qingxi remarked coolly, not even deigning to look at the interloper. She popped another potato chip into her mouth with deliberate nonchalance.

Xu Baozhu, momentarily deflated by the criticism, instantly brightened. She shot a defiant glance at the sword-bearing girl and whispered fiercely to Gu Qingxi, "Exactly! Who appointed her the Arbiter of Appetites?!"

"How dare you—!" The richly dressed girl spluttered, her face flushing crimson with indignation. Her hand instinctively tightened on the hilt of her ostentatious sword.

Seeing her adversary flustered only fueled Xu Baozhu's glee. She linked her arm through Gu Qingxi's with newfound camaraderie, crunching her potato chip with exaggerated relish.

Once the final spirit root test concluded, a senior disciple led the remaining hundred or so hopefuls—a stark reduction from the teeming crowds at the base—up the winding mountain path towards the sect's inner gates. The silent journey underscored the harsh reality: the gift of cultivation was bestowed upon very few.

They arrived at a mist-shrouded stone platform halfway up the mountain. Before them stood an ancient stone archway, its surface worn smooth by time, emanating a faint, unsettling hum. The disciple gestured towards it. "The first trial: Enter the Illusory Realm. Find the exit and emerge within three days. Fail to exit, fail the trial. Enter now!" His tone brooked no delay.

Murmurs of confusion rippled through the group, but the disciple's stern gaze spurred them forward. Gu Qingxi felt Xu Baozhu's grip tighten briefly on her arm. "Qingxi! Stick together!" Baozhu whispered urgently.

"Naturally," Gu Qingxi nodded. They stepped through the archway side-by-side.

A sensation of vertigo seized Gu Qingxi. The world twisted, colors bleeding into impossible hues. When her vision cleared, Xu Baozhu's warm presence was gone. She stood utterly alone.

The scene before her was staggering.

She stood—no, sat—upon a dais of pure white jade, high above a cavernous hall that shimmered with impossible opulence. Pillars of veined green marble, thicker than ancient trees, soared towards a ceiling lost in golden mist, painted with celestial scenes that seemed to shift and breathe. The floor was a mosaic of polished gemstones—rubies, sapphires, emeralds—forming intricate patterns that pulsed with faint inner light. She was draped not in simple robes, but in heavy, magnificent robes of imperial black silk, embroidered with sinuous golden dragons whose eyes seemed to gleam with captured starlight. A weight pressed upon her brow—a crown of intricate platinum and cold fire diamonds.

Below her, stretching towards distant, fog-shrouded doors, stood ranks upon ranks of figures. Hundreds, perhaps thousands. Men and women in fantastical, layered court robes of vermilion, azure, and deepest purple, their heads bowed low, foreheads almost touching the jeweled floor. The silence was profound, thick with an almost suffocating reverence.

A figure materialized beside her throne—a gaunt man with skin like bleached parchment, clad in robes of somber grey. He raised a staff topped with a milky moonstone, its tip chiming with a sound like frozen bells. His voice, when he spoke, was a high, reedy rasp that echoed unnaturally in the vast space:

"The Celestial Empress presides! Let those with petitions approach the Dragon Throne!​"

A figure detached itself from the front rank of officials—a man whose robes were a tapestry of embroidered phoenixes and swirling clouds, his beard long and silver-white. He moved with unnatural grace, gliding rather than walking, stopping precisely ten paces from the base of the dais. He sank into a deep, formal kowtow, his forehead touching the cold gems.

"This unworthy servant dares to petition the Radiant Sun of the Realm, the Unifier of Heaven and Earth, the August Celestial Empress Gu Qingxi!" His voice, though projected loudly, held a tremor of awe. "By Your Majesty's boundless wisdom and peerless virtue, the realm basks in an era of unparalleled peace! Crops burst forth from the earth without sowing! Rivers run clear with ambrosia! Savage beasts kneel in submission at the borders! Truly, Your Majesty's virtue has moved the very Heavens! This golden age shall echo through ten thousand millennia!"

Gu Qingxi's expression remained impassive, a mask of jade. An illusion. But what is the purpose? Tian Qing Sect's trials… are they testing patience? Tolerance for sycophancy?

"This lowly servant concurs!" Another official, clad in robes of storm-cloud grey, stepped forward, kowtowing even lower than the first. "The Empress's strategic brilliance outshines the legendary War Gods! Barbarian kings tremble at the mere whisper of Your Majesty's name, sending tribute from beyond the known seas! The celestial constellations themselves realign in deference to Your Majesty's will! This is the Dawn of Perfect Harmony!"

"The Empress is the living embodiment of the Dao!" proclaimed a third, his robes ablaze with embroidered suns. "Compassion flows like the Eternal River! Justice strikes like the Heavenly Thunderbolt! Under Your Majesty's gaze, vice withers, and virtue blooms like lotus flowers upon a sacred pond!"

One after another, they came. A relentless parade of obsequiousness. The metaphors grew increasingly ludicrous—comparing her to cosmic forces, primordial deities, the very axis of creation. The flattery was a torrent, a tsunami of hollow praise, each official trying to outdo the last in hyperbolic devotion. Gu Qingxi felt a profound weariness settle over her, a desire to simply close her eyes against the glittering, meaningless spectacle. It was less a court session and more a bizarre, competitive poetry slam dedicated to her non-existent divinity.

Do these spectral bureaucrats have nothing else to do? she wondered, her internal voice dry as desert sand. Is the entire administrative apparatus of this illusory empire devoted solely to composing increasingly absurd panegyrics? What manner of deranged mind conceived this trial?

"Court is dismissed." Her voice, cool and clear, cut through the latest effusion comparing her eyelashes to celestial comets. She rose from the oppressive weight of the Dragon Throne, the heavy robes whispering against the jade. Ignoring the stunned silence that followed her pronouncement, she turned and walked towards a set of towering golden doors behind the throne platform, her mind already dissecting the illusion's mechanics. How to shatter this gilded cage of nonsense?

The gaunt Master of Ceremonies scrambled after her, his moonstone staff clattering in his haste, his parchment face etched with panic at the unprecedented break in protocol.

"Well, well, well," Wuling Laozu's voice slithered into her thoughts, thick with mocking amusement. "Hidden depths, Little Ancestor! Who knew your ultimate aspiration was to lounge on a giant blinged-out chair while an army of ghosts told you how shiny you are? Enjoying the view from the top of Delusion Mountain?"

"Silence, you fossilized bag of wind!" Gu Qingxi's mental retort was sharp as a honed blade. "If I wanted pointless adulation, I'd hire street performers. Cheaper and less headache than managing a kingdom of professional flatterers." The sheer absurdity of the situation grated on her nerves. This wasn't a test of cultivation; it was an endurance trial for tolerating monumental stupidity.