I Just Wanted to Teach Cultivation, But Goddesses Keep Coming! Chapter 120 Why Fly on a Sword When You Can Roll Like a Boul

"Ahhhh... smooth and fresh... I’m fortunate to have acquired this batch for my collection. And without lifting a finger for it. Sotis luck truly arrives from the most unexpected corners."

The fat man exhaled in satisfaction, his lewd grin stretching across his fleshy face.

He adjusted his clothes carefully, smoothing the wrinkles from his robe as though he were a refined gentleman rather than the keeper of this grim underground chamber.

The air was thick with the scent of preservatives and damp stone.

Lantern light flickered weakly along the walls, casting trembling shadows that made the rows before him seem almost alive.

He turned slowly.

Before him stood a long line of pale, naked bodies arranged upright with eerie precision.

Their skin was unnaturally smooth, preserved flawlessly.

Their expressions were empty, yet almost serene like statues carved from flesh.

His small eyes narrowed in appreciation.

"Truly a wonder," he murmured.

He clasped his hands behind his back and began pacing leisurely.

"In my heyday... perhaps I could have created sothing of this caliber on my own. My control back then was exquisite. My understanding of flesh and spirit far superior to these crude refinents."

His hand drifted toward his swollen stomach, patting it with mild irritation.

"But now..."

A scoff escaped him.

"I’ve grown old. Fat. Sluggish. Defeated. Reduced to hiding in this miserable hellhole beneath a city that doesn’t even know I exist."

Bitterness crept into his voice.

He had once been feared.

Once, his na alone was enough to empty cities.

Now he wore the disguise of a lowly morgue attendant handling corpses by day, refining them by night.

His expression shifted as another na surfaced in his thoughts.

"Lin Feng..."

He spoke it softly, cautiously.

Even with the mortal eyes he currently wore to avoid attention, he could sense sothing abnormal about Lin Feng’s thods.

It was the kind of techniques only true old monsters mastered.

The fat man’s gaze flickered toward the ceiling, as if he could see beyond layers of earth and stone into the vast city above.

"That one... I must not encounter him."

There was no bravado in his tone this ti.

Only calculation.

"If he notices even a trace of what I’m doing down here... of what I truly am then..."

He didn’t finish the sentence.

He didn’t need to.

The cultivation world was rciless.

And Lin Feng did not seem like soone who tolerated filth growing beneath his territory.

The fat man resud pacing, slower now.

"Should I leave this city?"

Clear Moon City had been the perfect hiding place for him until now.

As a mortal city, it lacked the violent fluctuations of high-level cultivation territories.

There were no constant realm wars, no ancient monsters passing through, no overwhelming sect elders sweeping the skies with oppressive auras.

Life here moved at a slower, almost mundane pace.

And that was precisely why he had chosen it.

The absence of true experts ant fewer risks. No one strong enough to see through him at a glance.

No terrifying old ancestor suddenly descending to investigate minor disturbances.

The strongest figures here were rely stepping stones compared to the world beyond.

It was quiet.

Predictable.

Safe.

Or at least, it had been.

Leaving would an abandoning years of careful concealnt.

Years of preparation.

Years of harvesting.

His eyes drifted back to the silent figures before him.

"Such fine specins..."

Greed flickered in his gaze, battling against the thread of instinctive fear tightening in his chest.

He was no fool.

He had survived this long because he knew when to retreat.

But he was also prideful.

And pride whispered that perhaps he was overthinking it.

Perhaps Lin Feng had no interest in him. Perhaps the old monster had larger matters to attend to.

Still...

The fat man’s grin faded slightly.

"Troubleso..."

***

And just like that, the na of Lin Feng rang out once more across Clear Moon City.

What began as a whisper in tea houses quickly turned into lively debate in taverns, markets, and clan courtyards.

The rumor that he had defeated an expert who was half a step into the Foundation Establishnt Realm spread like wildfire with each retelling more exaggerated than the last.

So swore they had witnessed it with their own eyes.

"He didn’t even move!" one man insisted loudly at a wine stall. "He just sat there!"

Another leaned in conspiratorially. "Move? He didn’t even blink! I heard he rely winked at Mo Yan..."

"And then?" soone asked eagerly.

"And then Mo Yan collapsed on the spot! Foam bubbling from his mouth! His eyes rolled back like he’d seen the King of Hell himself!"

Gasps followed.

In a city of mortals and low-level cultivators, such a story was nothing short of legendary.

Whether truth or embellishnt hardly mattered anymore. What mattered was perception.

And in the eyes of Clear Moon City, Lin Feng had just transford from a trash teacher into an unfathomable expert.

As the rumors grew more dramatic, so did the reactions.

Clan leaders convened private etings. Small sect representatives began sending discreet inquiries.

Even wealthy rchant families started asking subtle questions.

Who was he?

Where did he co from?

"Does he have a wife?"

Naturally, once his na began circulating, so did attention.

Many eyes started following Lin Feng’s movents.

He would walk down a street, and a vendor would seem overly curious.

He would dine in a restaurant, and a patron at the corner table would lower his gaze just a fraction too late.

He would pass through an alley, and shadows would shift ever so slightly behind him.

Spies.

So subtle.

So laughably obvious.

Ironically, a few of those spies even recognized one another.

They brushed shoulders in narrow streets, exchanged knowing glances, and silently acknowledged the competition.

After all, Clear Moon City was only a mortal city.

Its hidden currents were shallow compared to true cultivation strongholds.

The forces operating within it were minor clans, wandering cultivators, and opportunistic rchants.

None of them possessed the depth or subtlety of cultivators from the higher realms.

In Clear Moon City, Foundation Establishnt experts stood at the very top of the food chain.