18 Grubworm The Conqueror

Joe continued to dig his hole until he was waist deep in it. Then he climbed out of the hole and put on his work duds.Without sparing Three a word or a glance he grabbed his axe and headed to the thicket.

What in the hell happened to Grubworm thought Three becoming a cultivator made him not so cute and cuddly anymore. At least now he might not get killed by a pig.

Joe just realized he was walking with no water no food and no plan besides bashing down something. I don't want to turn back that would just make me look weak. Fuck her and fuck the sect I bet if I just keep walking in any direction I'll find somewhere else that is better. Who am I kidding there's nothing here out in the boonies.

*Road From Deadhorse.

The Tinker's fishing trip was coming to a close they had covered quite a bit of distance.

White Tides was riding point in the tanker truck driving cautiously he felt himself bump

over something. He hailed the others over the CB.

"Tinker I just hit something I hope I don't have a flat. Just have your eyes on the road."

"The Tinker acknowledges your warning good buddy."

The Elder said to the Tinker over the CB from the hauler" Nothing beats fresh roadkill. That one was tenderized by 5 tons if there is anything left I'm scraping it up off the asphalt."

The Elder stopped to investigate the lump on the road. It had been some time since he had driven anything. He got out of the hauler but had forgotten to set the park brake. Forward inertia saw the truck pulverizing the lump on the road."No chance of saving any of that meat now" he muttered. He ran after the hauler and climbed back in the cab. I'm still pretty spry for 100 he thought to himself satisfied.

The further Joe walked the more he cooled off.He wastrying to logic his way through his feelings. He visualized a pros and cons column

She saved my life multiple times. She was the one who drowned me.I wouldn't be here if White Tides didn't kidnap me. Why am I even here? Who should I put the blame on?

* Meanwhile in Turkey.

Thomlin was in a field with grids painted all over it. They were about 12×12 inches and were numbered 1-150. There was a portable corral with 4 young steers in it.

"That one. I like his eyes he looks like he will shit pretty quick." Thom said as he pointed at the brown one with a broken horn.

" Ok folks our master of ceremonies has selected the participant. Place your bets $10 a square it pays out 10:1 folks buy 9 squares if he craps on one of those you still come out $10 ahead. Those are great odds folks line up line up." said a squirrelly looking trucker wearing a Habbiberton shirt.

Thomlin loved these mixers he had the game rigged he put little bits of apples on certain squares he fed the brown one enough laxatives he had a rough idea where the shit would land when the cows stopped so he had his friends buy up four squares in the splash zone. It was too easy to trick truckers out of their money. As long as somebody won they didn't care they would buy overpriced watered down beer and $2 hotdogs. Life was grand out here away from it all. I wished I would have kept a check on Maureen and the boy. I haven't seen the kid except that one time I snuck into the pediactric ward to check his bones over. The experiment was a sucess. I wonder what he's doing now. Doesn't matter papa has a cow to watch take a crap.

The steer ran out of the corall he honed in on square 42 just as planned. Then all bowels broke loose it looked like gravy from a water gun. "How much blow juice did you use Mike? he whispered into the bookie's ear.

"The instructions was in Risian. I can't read them funny letters too good.I figured the whole syringe would be fine it is a damn cow after all pretty hard to make one of those OD off of anything." Mike lit up a Kemal from his pack in his shirt pocket. " Funny thing was that syringe didn't have no needle on it so I had to transfer the contents into a turkey injector that we used last Thanksgiving. I cleaned it pretty good before I stuck it in its hip."

"You fucking moron that was supposed to be administered orally. Also half a syringe per cow. We are going to have to skedaddle pretty quick before those guys come after that bankroll. Pass me the wad I'll head over to the beer tent."

After Thom got the cash from Mike he headed to his Peterford then hid it behind his seat cover.He calmly walked over to the beer tent and grabbed the strongbox. It looked like he was going to make a clean get away until the other three cows passed gravy splattering some guys that were getting curious about the cows.

He dashed to his truck planting his foot on the shoulder of a man that tried to bar his path.He did a somersault in the air cradling the box like a football. He even got to catch a glimpse of Mike about to be lynched by a mob of angry truckers. Yep this was the good life!

Young Three decided to give Grubworm his space. I should tell Elder about this. Nobody in the sect is a true cultivator except the Elder and The Scholar. The Tinker knows his way around a scrap pile and might be able to hold out against anybody 3 star and below in a fight. His little joke of a cultivation manual needs to actually be studied closer. Elder needs to see Grubworm nobody should be able to go from normal to 1 star in 2 days. Not that he's a proper 1 star but that punch he gave definitely had the power behind it.

So many questions Grubworm but you don't know enough to give any answers.

Joe kept up his sojourn until he found a big chunk of fieldstone. It ain't no LazeBoy but hell it looks good enough to me.

He sat on the rock. For shits and giggles he recited the Soul Cleansing Sutra. He felt something move inside his stomach. An intense pain was in his chest. He thought it might be a heart attack. Then the unholy mother of all burps came from his mouth.He puked up a little bit of mud that was still in his gut.