Chapter 57: The Prince of Mishaps, Cameron

After stepping out of the Eternal Spirit Blade’s space, Ou Xiaolu realized its flow of time was much like his own time-stop ability; within that space, time moved exceedingly slowly, and outside, almost no one noticed the brief distraction he and Aruo shared.

Li Qinghao was still chatting away about all sorts of trivial matters when Ou Xiaolu suddenly asked, “Senior Li, after you offer those swords and blades you’ve collected, what do they ultimately become?”

Li Qinghao paused, pointing at Ou Xiaolu in surprise. “How do you know about that?”

“I got acquainted with that entity,” Ou Xiaolu shrugged.

Li Qinghao blinked at him. “Well, it seems your fortune far surpasses mine. Did that one say they wanted to go with you? If that’s the case, I should start preparing.”

“No, he just asked me to find some things for him. If I deliver those items, he said I could pick a few of his unused ones in exchange,” Ou Xiaolu noticed Li Qinghao’s reluctance and quickly stopped him from making any preparations.

Hearing Ou Xiaolu’s explanation, Li Qinghao finally relaxed, his eyes reddening a little as he kept repeating, “That’s good, that’s good.”

Ou Xiaolu didn’t intend to trouble Li Qinghao further, but as he was about to leave, another thought struck him, and he inquired about sources of meat.

The question caught Li Qinghao off guard, but after hearing Ou Xiaolu’s reasoning, he couldn’t claim ignorance.

Ou Xiaolu was considering Aruo’s dietary needs. Unlike himself, who could fill up on a simple bowl of rice, Aruo needed proper nourishment—blood and flesh were essential for her strength. Letting Aruo hunt in the mountains herself was out of the question; it would waste too much energy. So Ou Xiaolu wondered where he could acquire large quantities of inexpensive meat.

Given Li Qinghao’s trade in kitchenware and his connections with various chefs, he might have some leads.

Li Qinghao could only agree; Ou Xiaolu’s logic was sound, but he genuinely didn’t know where to find such bulk, affordable meat.

Finally, Li Qinghao remembered someone. “I recall a man named Izzo. He knows many ranch owners. His family only uses the tenderest cut of beef, so I imagine he’d know where ranches sell their surplus meat.”

Izzo? The tenderest beef? Ou Xiaolu instantly thought of that man from the campus. He was tempted to rush over and ask immediately, but ultimately decided to hold off. Instead, he asked about the best herbalist in Chinatown.

On this matter, Li Qinghao felt helpless. Eastern herbal medicine wasn’t popular in the United States, so there were plenty of herbalists, but few truly successful ones; most just sold ginseng and similar items.

Nonetheless, Li Qinghao introduced Ou Xiaolu to one. Though his family’s herbs were ordinary, his father was of Li Qinghao’s generation and once a renowned physician in Chinatown. If Ou Xiaolu could persuade him, perhaps he could obtain better medicines.

Hearing this, Ou Xiaolu was eager to pay a visit.

They left the Elite Little Chef and were about to head to the herbalist when Ou Xiaolu suddenly noticed a small pickup truck driving nearby.

Such pickups were common in the United States—most families owned one, bringing it out for heavy purchases or big hauls.

Ou Xiaolu’s attention was drawn solely because he recognized the hefty driver: the notorious King of Car Wrecks, Cameron. But what was he doing in Chinatown today?

Curious, Ou Xiaolu glanced in his direction.

No sooner had he looked than a sedan shot out from the opposite street, veering onto the sidewalk without regard for the pedestrians, then tried to drive against traffic, slamming straight into Cameron’s pickup.

The collision sent the sedan flipping in midair, performing a full 360-degree spin before crashing onto the back of the pickup, snapping in two.

From the direction the sedan had come, a crowd rushed out wielding brooms and kitchen knives. Surveying the chaos and the bisected car, they seemed at a loss for what to do next.

Seeing this, Ou Xiaolu hurried forward and dragged Cameron from his vehicle. As for the sedan, Ou Xiaolu had no intention of getting involved.

Perhaps after experiencing several accidents in recent days, Cameron had grown so composed it was as if nothing had happened.

Being pulled out by Ou Xiaolu, Cameron managed a greeting, “You again, huh? This time it wasn’t my fault.”

“I think your truck’s too small to flip. If you’d been driving your big rig, it’d be flattened by now.”

“No more big rigs for me,” Cameron sighed. “I’ll never drive one again.”

“What happened? Weren’t you doing fine?” Ou Xiaolu couldn’t help but ask, seeing Cameron’s despondency.

“Two crashes in just a few days, six people dead. Who would dare hire me to haul goods anymore?”

“Oh, let me interrupt you there—it might not be just six. I looked, that sedan had three people: one seriously injured, two dead on impact. Congratulations, you’ve claimed more lives than some infamous serial killers in history.”

Cameron was incredulous, but just then the crowd managed to pry open the wrecked car, dragging out one wounded man and two bodies.

Seeing this, Cameron let out a deep sigh.

Ou Xiaolu patted his shoulder, saying, “Don’t worry, the police will have someone explain things for you, just like before. None of it’s your fault.”

“I know, but what about my truck? The last two times it was the company’s—didn’t matter if they impounded them. Today it’s mine, and I was just trying to buy some stuff.”

“How about this—we seem destined to meet; every time you crash, I witness it. Whatever you need to buy, I’ll help you haul it.”

“Alright,” Cameron agreed, grateful for the offer. He handed over a shopping list filled with various items.

Ou Xiaolu glanced through it, curious. “What’s all this for? There’s food, herbs, dyes?”

“Oh, I lost my job, remember? Just joined a film crew as a prop assistant. Today they’re shooting a witch brewing a magical potion, so they need realistic-looking ingredients.”

“Interesting. No problem, it’s not much, and my car can fit it all.”