The first Night Beast to learn why interrupting Gao Mingyu's dinner was a terrible idea found itself launched through the air by what appeared to be a lazy backhand.
The motion looked less like a martial technique and more like someone shooing away a persistent fly while half-asleep.
"You know," Mingyu said, his golden aura pulsing like a drowsy heartbeat, "I was saving those dumplings for midnight snack."
The beast crashed through three walls and ended up in Old Wang's vegetable garden.
Old Wang, who had been arguing with his cabbages about proper growing posture, barely looked up.
"Mind the turnips," he called out. "They're sensitive."
Li Xuan moved like winter wind, her frost-edged sword leaving trails of ice crystals in the air. Two Night Beasts tried to flank her, their shadow-forms rippling with malice. She pivoted, her blade describing perfect arcs that her master would have approved of—right before criticizing her footwork.
"The formation!" Elder Yan shouted from his rooftop perch, frantically consulting his scrolls. "We need to establish the Eight Harmonies before—" A shadow tendril whipped past his head, taking several pages with it. "Oh, bother. Those were alphabetized."
Rui Lin danced through the chaos, her flames turning night into day. Her noble training showed in every gesture, though she'd modified the classical forms to be significantly more lethal.
A Night Beast lunged at her, only to find itself caught in a spiral of fire that reminded everyone present of how Aunt Bao stir-fried on busy nights.
"Your form is sloppy," she told the burning creature. "My old dance instructor would be appalled. Then again, she was appalled by everything."
Bao Ping, having recovered from his chicken-related mishap, was proving that enthusiasm could indeed be a viable combat technique.
His wok-shield had acquired several dents that somehow made it more effective, and he'd discovered that his "Justice Strike" worked better when he wasn't announcing it first.
"I've been practicing!" he shouted, accidentally deflecting a shadow bolt with his flailing. "In the cabbage patch! The vegetables are excellent training partners!"
"Less talking, more hitting," Mingyu advised, casually stepping aside as a Night Beast impaled itself on its own momentum. The creature looked almost embarrassed.
The battle spread through the village like spilled soup. Villagers who had initially run for cover were now offering commentary and tactical advice from their windows.
"Hit it with your left!" "No, your other left!" "Someone get Aunt Bao's spicy sauce!"
The Tiger's aura around Mingyu grew stronger, but instead of the fierce energy most martial artists projected, it felt more like the comfortable warmth of a sun-soaked stone. Night Beasts that got too close found themselves becoming mysteriously drowsy, their shadowy forms growing sluggish and confused.
"It's the Somnolent Palm technique!" Elder Yan exclaimed. "The legends spoke of a martial art so relaxed it could put demons to sleep!"
"Nah," Mingyu yawned, "just sharing the nap vibe."
Li Xuan's frost patterns began to synchronize with Rui Lin's flames, creating steam that took the shape of ancient symbols. The two women moved in perfect counterpoint, ice and fire working together to herd the shadows into an ever-tightening circle.
"The Elements align!" Elder Yan was practically dancing on the roof now. "Quick! We need the Body and Breath harmony!"
Bao Ping, who had been trying to untangle himself from a clothesline, perked up. "That's me! I can do that!" He took a deep breath, puffed out his chest, and promptly tripped again—this time creating a perfectly timed disruption in the Night Beasts' formation.
"That... works?" Elder Yan blinked, hastily scribbling notes.
Aunt Bao, who had been calmly gathering her cooking implements, chose this moment to join the fray. She wielded her ladle with the precision of a master swordsman, each swing accompanied by a splash of her secret sauce that made the shadows sizzle and retreat.
"Recipe passed down for generations," she explained to a confused Night Beast before smacking it with a pot. "The secret ingredient is spite."
The battle reached its crescendo as Mingyu finally stood up straight, his usual slouch giving way to something ancient and dignified. The Tiger's shadow loomed larger, its starlight stripes pulsing with power that felt older than the mountains themselves.
"Right," he said, cracking his neck. "Nap time's over."
He moved. Not with the explosive speed of traditional martial artists, but with the inexorable momentum of a landslide deciding to rearrange the landscape. His techniques had names that would make traditional masters weep:
"Sleepy Bear Swats Fly" "Comfortable Pillow Redirects Force" "Three-Thirty Tea Break Stance" "Why Are You Still Here Palm"
Each movement was minimal, efficient, and looked suspiciously like someone trying to get comfortable in bed. Yet Night Beasts went flying, shadows dissipated, and reality itself seemed to yawn and stretch around him.
Li Xuan, witnessing this display, finally understood why the prophecies had been so vague. How do you describe a warrior whose greatest technique looked like a mid-afternoon nap?
The remaining Night Beasts, displaying more wisdom than their brethren, began to retreat. But they had forgotten about the village's secret weapon.
"Dinner," Aunt Bao announced, "is served."
The smell of her victory dumplings—a special recipe reserved for celebrations and demon invasions—wafted through the battlefield. Even the shadows paused, momentarily distracted by the aroma.
That was their final mistake.
Mingyu's eyes lit up. The Tiger's shadow roared. And in one smooth motion that somehow looked like someone reaching for the last dumpling at a feast, he gathered all the accumulated drowsy energy and released it.
The wave of golden light swept through the village, carrying with it the comfort of a perfect nap spot, the satisfaction of a good meal, and the profound peace of not having to do anything important right now. Night Beasts dissolved like bad dreams in morning light, their shadows scattered like startled cats.
In the sudden quiet, Mingyu stretched, scratched his belly, and ambled over to the dinner table.
"Anyone going to finish those dumplings?"
Rui Lin laughed, extinguishing her flames. "Same old fatty."
Li Xuan sheathed her sword, a small smile playing at her lips. "The prophecies mentioned a warrior who would unite the elements. They failed to mention he'd do it over dinner."
"Food brings harmony," Aunt Bao said sagely, already setting out fresh plates. "Also, spite. But mostly food."
Elder Yan was furiously recording everything he'd seen, his brush dancing across salvaged scroll scraps. "This defies all conventional theory! We must document the Lazy Cultivation Path!"
Bao Ping, still tangled in the clothesline, raised his dented wok triumphantly. "Can we do that again?"
"No," everyone said in unison.
As the village settled back into its usual rhythm, Mingyu reclaimed his spot under the plum tree, a plate of dumplings balanced on his stomach. The Tiger's shadow curled around him like a contented cat, its starlight stripes dimming to a comfortable glow.
Tomorrow would bring new challenges. The Night Beasts were just the beginning. But for now, there were dumplings to eat and naps to take.
After all, saving the world was no excuse for missing snack time.