Dimensional Storekeeper

Chapter 233: Billiard Tournament Final Game! 3

Hao stepped up to the billiard table, and turned to the crowd.

“Alright, everyone, settle down. Let’s not cause an indoor explosion.”

Hao didn’t speak loudly, but everyone went silent anyway.

Only for the applause to break out all over again a second later.

He shook his head, helpless, a faint smile forming on his face.

They were clearly too stubborn to stay quiet, but he let them be.

After all, what harm was there in letting them enjoy the moment?

Elder Bai Qingshui had already walked forward, standing beside Ji Yunzhi. He didn’t speak much, but gave the young man a light shoulder tap.

There was no need for long words. That gesture alone was louder than a hundred compliments.

Another round of claps followed.

Hao waited, letting the energy of the room build up and settle before continuing.

“Thanks to everyone for joining the store’s very first tournament. Whether you won, lost in the first round, or accidentally pocketed the cue ball three times in a row – ” Hao paused as a few heads lowered in embarrassment.

“I hope you had fun. That was the point.”

Some chuckled.

“We saw some crazy matches today. Some comebacks, some heartbreaks, and a few things I still don’t fully understand. But hey, that’s what makes a good event.”

Hao then glanced around, eyes sharp despite the lazy grin on his face.

“Now, before I let you all return to your tea, chips, and philosophical debates about cue angles, we’ve got rewards to hand out.”

A ripple went through the room.

Hao raised a hand. “As stated on the event poster, those who reached the semifinals will receive special privileges.”

He looked to the side and waved. “Old Zhao. Sect Master Jiang. Step forward.”

Old Tiger Zhao rubbed the back of his neck and shuffled over with a sheepish grin, while Sect Master Jiang Xianwei walked with the air of a man who already knew his name would be called.

Whispers filled the crowd.

“So lucky…”

“They didn’t even make the finals, and still got rewards…”

“Ugh. Should’ve trained more.”

“Then blame your own hands, not theirs.”

Hao continued, still smiling. “As semifinalists, each of you can choose two products from the store. Free of charge. Claim them whenever you want.”

“Even the ice cream, kid?” Old Tiger Zhao asked, eyes bright.

“Even the ice cream.” Hao replied.

“Just don’t try to claim ten of them tomorrow using the same excuse.”

Laughter spread again.

“Should I redeem it now or tomorrow?” Old Tiger Zhao mumbled, genuinely torn, as if the fate of the world rested on his choice.

’Soft Serve Chocolate Ice Cream… but what if I want it after dinner tomorrow? What if I want two cones back to back?’

He squinted toward the arched doorway, imagining the ice cream machine. Then at Hao. Then back at the doorway.

This dilemma could clearly take a while.

It was, without question, one of the hardest decisions he had faced in years.

Maybe even harder than the time he went toe-to-toe with the Blazebelly Furnace Boar, a demonic beast that snorted steam hot enough to melt boulders and once chased him across a lava field for stealing its Flame-Baked Ember Fruit stash.

At least back then, he knew where to run.

Meanwhile, Hao had opened his inventory space and retrieved something that hadn’t been mentioned in the event poster.

Four circular medals materialized in his hand, dangling from clean black ribbons that shined softly under the room’s light.

Etched into the center of every medal was a large 8-ball, carved with clean lines and filled with dark ink, making it pop clearly against the polished metal.

On the back, simple words were engraved in neat script:

“1st Dimensional Convenience Store 8-Ball Pool Tournament – One Winner Stands Tall”

Two were bronze.

One was silver.

And the last one, glinting just a bit brighter than the rest, was gold.

Hao held them up ,drawing everyone’s attention. Eyes followed the gentle sway of the black ribbons.

’Are those… medals?’

’Like official recognition tokens?’

’Does the store issue commemorative artifacts now?’

Even in the cultivation world, receiving a crafted token from a powerful force carried weight. Some sects gave jade plaques. Others, spirit-brand inscriptions.

But this –

This was oddly stylish.

“Besides the free products from the store, the top players will also receive these medals.”

He tilted the gold one slightly, letting it shimmer.

“A little something to remember today by.”

Hao approached the two.

Old Tiger Zhao and Sect Master Jiang Xianwei had already moved in closer. Without needing a word, both men dipped their heads slightly.

Hao slipped the ribbons around their necks.

The medals settled gently against their chests.

Almost immediately, the two reached up to touch them.

Old Tiger Zhao, never one to resist impulse, raised his medal toward his mouth and gave it a bite.

His tough teeth clinked against polished metal.

And this was Old Tiger Zhao we were talking about.

A man who had cracked open beast cores with his molars without blinking.

Who had, on more than one occasion, devoured the bones of demonic beasts mid-meal, crushing them into powder between his teeth as if they were nothing more than softened roots.

He narrowed his eyes.

No way.

He bit again, harder this time.

Still nothing.

No scratch. No bend. Not even a bite mark.

The taste?

Just metallic.

Bland, clean, and definitely not rusty –

But disappointing all the same.

Grunting, he held the medal with both hands and gave it a little bend.

It didn’t move.

He tried again, this time with more strength. Veins popped on his arms. His shoulders flexed.

The medal didn’t even creak.

“What is this thing made of, even, kid?”

Old Tiger Zhao rubbed his jaw, clearly confused.

Sect Master Jiang Xianwei, who had been standing with his hands behind his back, glanced toward the scene.

His gaze lingered on Old Tiger Zhao’s bronze medal.

For a moment, a faint ripple passed through the air.

A subtle change.

So light that most couldn’t even notice it.

But those with sharper senses, the true experts, felt it.

Their eyes flicked toward Sect Master Jiang Xianwei.

Inside the AirBuds of the Dimensional Convenience Store members, couple of whispers sounded.

’…So everyone noticed it too?’ Mo Xixi’s voice came first.

’Yes.’

’I’ve.’ ’Sensed.’ ’It.’ ’Too.’

’No.’ ’Killing.’ ’ Intent’ ’But.’

’Sharp.’ ’Pressing.’ ’Dangerous.’ Tian Lu’s reply came word by word, slow as always.

’It comes from the Sect Master of the Drifting Sword Sect.’ Kurome said calmly.

Yan Zhi blinked and looked around. ’…Uh, what’s going on?’

Hao glanced sideways, puzzled. Did I miss something?

Both of them had no idea what that sudden conversation in their AirBuds was even about.

A gust of wind stirred inside the store.

Soft, nearly silent.

Shhhk.

It circled once around the shelves, twirling the edges of hanging chip bags and gently brushing over the tops of soda cans.

And then –

A single leaf appeared.

No one saw where it came from.

It simply arrived, as if born from the wind.

It hovered for a second.

Then shot forward in a flash.

Ffffsssh!

It tore across the air.

It was heading straight for the bronze medal of Sect Master Jiang Xianwei.

The room tensed.

Several cultivators narrowed their eyes.

Even the ones who had been slouching lazily straightened up.

They knew.

That was sword intent.

Not an ordinary one either.

It came from Sect Master Jiang himself.

If he had truly meant to aim at someone, at least five Heavenly King Realm cultivators would’ve fallen in an instant.

That was how terrifying his sword intent was.

A single leaf, infused with such force, could sever stone.

Could carve apart a mountain ridge.

Could pierce through spiritual armor and flesh with no resistance.

But now, all that pressure was focused on a single medal.

Clink.

The leaf hit the surface.

And bounced off.

No scratch. No dent. No mark left behind.

Only a faint golden shimmer rippled across the medal’s surface before fading.

The leaf itself crumbled into powder, vanishing before it touched the ground.

Everyone looked at the medal.

Then at Sect Master Jiang Xianwei, who wore a brief, visible frown. His brows slightly furrowed, lips parted as if to question something, but the expression disappeared just as quickly.

They all shared the same thought –

What on earth are these medals made from?

And why were they so… indestructible?

Sect Master Jiang didn’t doubt Old Tiger Zhao’s strength, not really. The man was many things, but he wasn’t careless with quality.

Still… Sect Master Jiang Xianwei had to see it for himself.

Could something that looked so simple and fragile really withstand sword intent at this level?

Turns out, it could.

Whether it was honed intent or raw physical strength, the medal didn’t just endure. It absorbed the attack completely, as if it were a hidden defensive artifact swallowing power whole without leaving a trace.

In fact, now that Sect Master Jiang Xianwei had witnessed the result firsthand, he doubted that anything under the Mortal Realm could even leave a blemish.

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