"Stop lying! You *definitely* know what you're doing!" Purple Iris glared at Qin Feng, her youthful features twisting into a pout that could rival a Disney princess mid-tantrum.
"Ugh, you just don't *get* it!" Qin Feng shot back, striking a pose that screamed "main character energy." In his mind, he was already narrating his future biography: *"When Qin Feng enters a dungeon, chaos follows. Casualties? Guaranteed. Survivors? Just enough to spread legends of his awesomeness."*
*Clang! Clang! CLANG!*
Nearby, the sound of clashing swords erupted like a poorly timed heavy metal concert. Someone was definitely fighting over loot—probably something shinier than the "meh-tier" herbs they'd found so far. (Qin Feng had tried to hype up a patch of glow-in-the-dark moss earlier, but Purple Iris wasn't buying it.)
"Wanna crash the party?" Qin Feng whispered, eyes glittering with mischief.
Purple Iris nodded so vigorously her hairpins nearly launched into orbit. "Duh! But first—" She grabbed a handful of mud and smeared it across Qin Feng's face. "There. Now you look like a hobo instead of a pretty-boy protagonist."
"Rude, but fair," Qin Feng conceded, admiring his grungy new aesthetic in a puddle's reflection.
---
The scene they stumbled upon could only be described as *Mad Max* meets *Hell's Kitchen*. Three factions were brawling over a vine dangling with glowing red fruits that pulsed like rave-party LEDs. Corpses littered the ground like discarded action figures.
Purple Iris gasped. "*Blood Persimmons!*" She clamped onto Qin Feng's arm like a lobster with a vendetta. "Those are S-tier loot! They're like nature's energy drinks—chug 'em for instant health *and* gains! And guess what? No diminishing returns! You could mainline these babies 'til you're jacked enough to punch a mountain!"
"Cool story," Qin Feng hissed, prying her fingers off his now-purple forearm. "But revenge first!" Before she could react, he pinched her thigh—hard.
"YOWCH!" Purple Iris squeaked, tears pooling in her eyes. "You fight dirtier than a raccoon in a dumpster!"
"Tit for tat, *sweetheart*," Qin Feng smirked, though he did mentally note that her legs were suspiciously soft for a cultivator. (*Focus, Feng!* he scolded himself. *You're here to loot, not flirt!*)
---
The brawling factions included:
**The Axe Bros** – Shirtless dudes who clearly skipped arm day (for more axe time). **Silk Sash Gang** – Fancy-pants elites using scarves as weapons (fabulous but lethal). **Hooded Mystics** – Creepy chanting types who probably owned multiple crystal collections.
Qin Feng sized them up. "They've got higher-level cultivators than a Starbucks has pumpkin spice lattes in fall. Direct confrontation? Nah. Time for… *tactical borrowing*."
Purple Iris blinked. "You mean stealing."
"*Borrowing indefinitely*," he corrected, wiggling his fingers mysteriously. "Watch and learn, grasshopper."
---
Back during his "nightly adventures" (read: underwear-snatching sprees), Qin Feng had perfected his **Phantom Hand Technique**. Now, he put it to work—palm outstretched, he *yoinked* a Blood Persimmon straight off the vine.
Purple Iris' jaw dropped. "You—you're the *underwear bandit* from the Eastern Dorms!"
"Shhh!" Qin Feng turned crimson. "That was R&D for this exact moment! Now quit yapping and start bagging loot!"
Like a pair of hyper-caffeinated squirrels, they plucked persimmons mid-battle. The vine withered in real-time, fruits vanishing like cookies at a Weight Watchers meeting.
---
**Axe Bro Leader**: (swings axe) "FOR GLORY—wait, where'd the fruits go?!"
**Silk Sash Diva**: (trips on her own scarf) "Someone's hacking the system!"
**Hooded Mystic**: (dropping crystal) "The ancient texts warned of this… the *Phantom Fruit Ninja*!"
By the time the last persimmon disappeared, the fighters looked more confused than a cat watching a magic trick. That's when they spotted our grimy protagonists trying to tiptoe away.
"YOU!" roared the Axe Bros, advancing like a tidal wave of body odor.
Qin Feng struck a dramatic pose. "You dare threaten me? My big bro is **Lin San**—the Sword God's heir! The man who fought Qin Feng to a draw! The future MVP of the Cultivator Olympics!" He paused for effect. "We're *basically twins*. Mess with me, and he'll turn you into sashimi!"
The crowd gasped. Lin San's reputation was hotter than a TikTok trend—everyone knew he'd cracked this dungeon first.
**Silk Sash Diva**: (whispers) "If Lin San's here… he must've found *way* better loot!"
**Hooded Mystic**: (grabs crystal) "Forget these kiddos! Find Lin San!"
Like lemmings in a hype train, the mob scattered to hunt the (very innocent, very absent) Lin San.
---
Purple Iris stared at Qin Feng. "You're evil. And weirdly brilliant."
"Evil? Pshh." Qin Feng grinned, tossing her a persimmon. "I prefer… *chaotic efficient*. Now c'mon—let's hit the next loot spot before they realize Lin San's halfway to Nepal by now."
As they vanished into the ruins, Purple Iris couldn't help but laugh. For all his scheming, Qin Feng had one undeniable talent: turning disasters into comedy gold.
**Meanwhile, Miles Away…**
Lin San sneezed violently. "Why do I feel like I just got nominated for a crime I didn't commit…?"
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