The old ox glanced at Quinn, then at the Dragon-Qilin skulking behind him, and snorted with laughter. "That silly big oaf couldn't beat me, so he brought backup. No matter who you bring, it won't make a difference. Are you here to stick up for that silly big oaf?"
"Silly big oaf?"
Quinn was slightly taken aback. "Could he mean Fat Dragon?"
"Dao-brother, Fat Dragon was rather rude just now. Please forgive him."
Quinn followed proper etiquette and said, "May I ask if the Farmer is here?"
The old ox scratched at the scales on his belly, making a rasping sound—those were dragon scales. Only then did Quinn notice that this ox did resemble Bashan Wine God's blue ox, as if both were dragon breeds, and both were covered in lumps of muscle.
But the blue ox loved eating peonies, was fond of flowers and plants, and liked showing off his muscles, while this old ox was hugging a water pipe, puffing away, and preferred to drink tea while smoking.
"Could this old ox have some connection to the blue ox?" Quinn wondered to himself.
The old ox blew out a smoke ring, glanced at Quinn, and said, "You look young, so you probably don't know my old master. Who are you, and what business do you have with my old master?"
Quinn smiled. "I'm a disciple of the Woodcutter Sage, one of the Four Pioneer Celestial Teachers of the Kaihuang Heaven Court. I've already met the Fisherman and the Woodcutter, but not the other two Celestial Teachers. Dao-brother, could you introduce me?"
"My master is just a farmer. What's there to see?"
Sam Oxley poured out his water pipe and said, "A while back, the Woodcutter Sage came looking for him and got beaten up. Now he's been lying in the filthy ditch at the village entrance for a month. Since you're the Woodcutter Sage's disciple, just call me senior brother, no need for Dao-brother."
"Woodcutter?"
Quinn was startled. "The Woodcutter Sage was beaten up? Hasn't moved in a month? Which village?"
Sam Oxley stood up, his front hooves thudding to the ground as he swished his tail. "I'll take you, but don't think you can pull him out. My master said to let that guy rot in the ditch—anyone who tries to pull him out has to take three punches from my master. My master's three punches could punch three holes in the sky!"
Quinn called over Bruno, the Dragon-Qilin, who was clearly reluctant and afraid of Sam Oxley. But Sam just laughed, "Big guy, don't be afraid of me. You're still young—when you grow up, you'll be able to pin me down and beat me."
Bruno's eyes lit up. "Really?"
"Nope."
Sam Oxley drained the tea on the stone table in one gulp, and with a flick of his tongue, both teacup and teapot vanished. He strolled forward, looking supremely self-satisfied. "You're too green. Even if you trained for another thousand years, I could still beat three of you with one hoof. Not just you—true dragons, qilins, I've beaten more than I can count. Our village is just ahead, a little mountain hamlet."
Bruno drooped his head in disappointment.
Quinn smiled. "Senior brother Ox, Bruno may be young, but don't underestimate him. I taught him the Ancestral Dragon Supreme-Mystic Art, an Emperor's-Throne level divine art. His cultivation is advancing at godspeed—he may surpass you someday."
"My name is Sam Oxley."
Sam Oxley swished his tail. "It's not about how strong a technique is, but whether it's truly your own. His technique isn't his, and with qilin blood, the Ancestral Dragon Supreme-Mystic Art is a dragon clan technique, right? He can only master half; the rest is full of flaws. If he could beat me, that would be something. If you don't walk your own path, no technique will work."
Quinn was moved. "This senior brother Sam Oxley's insight surpasses countless gods and demons. It seems the Warfist Celestial Teacher really is the Warfist Celestial Teacher—he can even train an ox to this level, no less than a realm lord like Furylo."
They arrived at a small mountain village in the Great Ruins, about six or seven li from the rice fields.
Quinn observed the village—nestled against the mountains, with clear springs flowing down the green hills, very picturesque. The village had a hundred or so households, but not a single stone statue.
"See for yourself—is that your teacher lying in the ditch?" Sam Oxley swished his tail and entered the village.
Quinn came to the ditch at the village entrance, and sure enough, saw someone lying face-up in the filthy water, his face pale from soaking.
The stench from the ditch was nauseating. The man dressed as a woodcutter had both hands and feet broken, and likely many other bones. Only his skull was intact.
Quinn watched for a while. The man in the ditch finally noticed him, flipped over with a splash, buried his face in the filthy water, with rotting cabbage leaves in his hair and a picked-clean chicken bone stuck to his rear.