A Cultivator called Yao

There was nothing but dryness around Yao.

Each breeze was packed with a stuff and hot air so intense that it may as well burn a human inside out. Thin red sand rolled with each satan's breath, and only yellow grasses, that in themselves were the failing saplings of demonic trees, swayed back and forth. Monumental rocks were carved in the shape of cups and hives, but there was nothing to drink, and neither insects capable of living in such an horrible place.

It was over a 100 celsius degrees, and a specially hot wind burnt the cheeks of the Fiery-Bullet Empress of the Northern Wind — Yao Blacksugar.

With one hand she held a titan's grip to a chain, that then toiled the enormous weight of the adamant coffin that blazed white. That thing was overheating for days now, and it left a trace of glass in its wake, it was this hot. The contents? Nobody knew...no. Yao knew, but only her. Not even the Great Elder could look inside, only her, the only one blessed with the gifts of a system.

With her other hand, Yao, blew a harmonica, for she was in the desert and alone; what better time to be a cowboy?

And suddenly as this, she no more was alone.

Like cowering coyottes, they've been following her for a few minutes now since we've started such observations; surrounding her, preparing their strike. They were no more than six, maybe nine with those walking towards her flanks. They didn't need no confirmation of who that was.

Even if Yao was the strongest cultivator of her side of the world, here she, conveniently, was no one.

But how could she be? Those people were born and bred here in the Hechikon Deserts.

A sly grin formed into her surprisingly moist lips, and Yao almost fell into the temptation of stopping her stride.

No, she thought. Let them come.

An organ blasted off; not a flesh one, but the instrument. Monstrous notes, high and mighty, forming a melody of chaos and submission, of a thousand suns scorching the Earth naked. She could not resist, and blew once more into her harmonica. Tension brew artificially in the air, as the chi of so many started to conflate a weak sandstorm.

Yao's poncho was dancing in the wind when her enemies appeared from behind rocks — and this included an entire church organ that wasn't there an eye bat before, with two women lying over it, one with black hair, and the other white as now. The first had fox ears and tail, and the second was cat-like. Nice.

The Fiery-Bullet Empress of the Northern Wind That Betrays The Sixth Heaven scanned over them. Her eyes shone with a glint of forbidden power, something granted only for those chosen by the gods; those who did nothing special, were losers, sometime straight up horrible people in their previous lives — yes, she had received a second chance, and instead of living in humility, Yao had conquered the cultivation world and slaughtered thousands. She had bought slaves only to free them later, but not before establishing a severe emotional bond with them, so they could never leave her, yes! She had built a harem of former slaves, women she saved, and one particularly cute femboy. This person, this one person, had received a direct blessing from the gods to make her meteoric rise easier: The System.

This scan revealed something bigger than her disappointment: their weakness.

They were of no importance. No more than fodder to her evergrowing story. Yao gave them her back...

And walked away.

"Ei, saggy-butt!" screamed the wolf beast-race captain of the bandits, her hat with a golden medal shining bright.

No.

Not her butt.

Slowly the Blacksugar Selected By The Dark God turned her heels, an ice-cold stare piercing her enemies' heart.

"Ya spoke to me?" no amusement was left in her mask-like expression.

"Nah, cutie. Maybe it was with the whore that shat you here." said the wolf-girl, her chin held high.

The organ played intensely, holding a increasingly deep note; atop of it the two she-beasts touched each other's neck, and kissed. The black one fondled her white companion's soft breasts, while the fox-woman touched her flat-chest. They started to make out.

Nobody knew why, but for our everlasting entertainment.

"Undestandable." Yao pulled the chain tighter, and patiently resumed her stride. "Have a nice day."

"A moment there, pal." Interrupted the wolf.

A heavy gunpowder-scent dominated the air, and the Fiery Empress turned her heels once more, now baring her teeth as a demon beast of the eight moon. With a scowl she said:

"Say what'in Hell do ya want, for a cock 'sake."

They shared a stare down.

The breeding catwomen, now suddenly unclothed, sang a dramatic chorus.

Every other henchman looked blankly at Yao 'soul, much like a fremen soldier in any fremen of Dune Part Two.

"Whatcha carrying'in that coffin?" the wolf girl spat.

"A heap of shit." Yao humiliated, worthy of a double panel.

"And who shat it all, eh?"

"I'm bettin'it was your mother's hole." and for such a reason she was the Fiery Empress, not because of her bullets, but her tongue capable of roasting even the Devil himself. Her words carried nothing but badassery, and her every sentence was a punch-line. Unlimited line works.

The blanks in all of the henchmen's eyes was filled to the brim with dread, although one of them smiled dauntly, for she was the side-character that everyone loved, but wouldn't matter. Ever.

At this point the true nature of it all was already revealed, but to engage them all in battle, there was a little more focus on the smutting beast-women, and now, with regenerated attention span, a battle was about to begin...

All those cultivators' hands were readied to pull their mystic relics much like the ironwork of 19th Century American bandits that were glamourized for their dirtiness. The skies shook. Their auras conflicted, almost splitting the whole desert.

The bandits pulled their arms—

Shots were shoot, and those who were killed would die.

No bullet reached Yao.

She looked at them all, even to the now irrelevant over-sexualized eye-candied characters. She did not smile, for the young liked it sigma, and those didn't give no smile.

"You have now established my badassery. You were the fodder of my debut. But it is too late; I have won."

"Oh my god..." confessed the Wolf bandit. "She is so strong."

And then she died.

They all died. Their corpses falling to the ground, each with a tiny hole in their forehead. For Yao's trigger was so fast that even the narrator couldn't see when she shoot them, around 273 words ago.

"Come." Yao stretched her hand towards the fanservice beast-girls, for they were now understood to be enslaved and sexually forced to mate with each other for some reason; not because you liked them, and wanted more, so it all got reworked.

The rightful protagonist of this story then, with two new auditions to her waifu collection, blew her harmonica and continued her stride to the Tower of Elders where some relevant plot should happen.

And she kept carrying.

Carrying the coffin with All The Tropes of the World.