Dimensional Storekeeper - Chapter 228: Fleeting Moment

Chapter 228: Fleeting Moment

Hao crossed his arms, letting the applause echo around him. His lips twitched upward in quiet approval.

Looks like the old man could already qualify for one of Earth’s top-tier international billiards tournaments. Nine-ball, straight pool, even snooker if he studied the rules.

Didn’t really matter. Elder Bai Qingshui had already reached the level where form, aim, and table control moved as one.

And it wasn’t just raw talent either. That wasn’t something you achieved by “vibes.”

That kind of consistency, that shot placement, that unshakable flow – Hao had only seen it a handful of times. Mostly online.

Commentated, analyzed, slowed down frame by frame, usually with a big red circle around the cue ball path.

The kind of stuff where fans said “this man isn’t playing pool, he’s conducting it.”

And to think… the last time Hao had a perfect game?

It was a Thursday.

Not even a special one.

It had been pure luck. An accidental break shot where everything fell into place. Balls dropped where they shouldn’t.

One even hit another and somehow rolled backward into the pocket. He just rode the wave and didn’t question it.

He’d ended up with a perfect finish that day. Not a single miss, against Mo Xixi.

Of course, he played it cool. Wiped his cue, gave a small nod, muttered something like “Not bad.” Then casually walked off to eat cup noodles.

To the customers?

It had been a god-tier display.

They thought every shot had been meticulously planned. Every bounce, part of some profound sequence only Hao could see.

In truth, he spent most of that match wondering whether to eat chicken or beef instant noodles afterward.

But nobody questioned it.

Because in their eyes, even Hao’s clumsy chalking of the cue tip held hidden meaning.

As if they believed he was just too deep for the mortal realm to understand.

He sighed to himself.

Ah, what a strange world he’d ended up in.

Still, Hao couldn’t really blame them.

Not when he looked back on everything that had happened since he’d first woken up in this bizarre little dimensional store.

He didn’t do anything on purpose.

But after a dozen small miracles and a few misunderstandings layered one after the other… well, this was the result.

He scratched the back of his head.

Yeah. If he were them, he might also believe the mysterious storekeeper was some unfathomable master.

A sage of snacks. A daoist of convenience. A recluse from the higher heavens who descended not to conquer – but to sell carbonated drinks.

The truth?

He was a decent shot at billiards. Pretty good at stocking products. Had a nice voice if he coughed first.

Not exactly material for legends.

And yet… if he said that out loud?

They’d probably just nod solemnly and mutter something about “The Humble Path of the Supreme Hidden Realm.”

High chance it would be Dou Xinshi.

The guy nearly teared up last week when Hao ate with him at the same time, sitting across the table and casually asking if the noodles were good.

It was the most emotional lunch of Dou Xinshi’s life.

If Hao so much as said “I was just lucky,” Dou Xinshi might throw himself to the ground in a full kowtow, shouting about fate, humility, and transcendent realms of customer service.

Honestly, at this point, Hao was just glad nobody had tried to make a statue of him yet.

Though… he’d once caught both Old Tiger Zhao and Dou Xinshi circling him with brushes in hand, muttering about posture, symmetry, and how hard it was to accurately sculpt the magnificent face of Hao.

Magnificent? Hao squinted at his own reflection in the polished glass door refrigerator last night and saw “above average at best.”

Handsome? Sure, he’d give himself that.

But the way Dou Xinshi once said. “Esteemed One’s jawline alone could cut through karma,” felt a bit much.

And don’t even start on Old Tiger Zhao, who genuinely asked if Hao had descended from an immortal bloodline because “no mortal should have that eyebrow-to-eye ratio.”

So. That threat still lingered.

If left unchecked, it was only a matter of time before someone submitted a spiritual art piece called “The Enlightened Gaze of Senior Hao” to a sect-wide exhibit.

Or worse… commissioned a limited run of jade pendants with his face carved into them.

Honestly, if someone came up to him tomorrow and asked if they could name their child Hao’er Jr., he wouldn’t even be surprised.

He probably wouldn’t mind either.

As long as it didn’t cause any trouble for the store—scare off potential customers, or make future visitors think this place was some kind of cult in disguise—it was fine. Really. Live your best life, name your kid whatever.

Just don’t let the fanaticism start impacting sales.

Because that was the line.

If some wide-eyed outer sect disciple started setting up incense burners at the store entrance or bowing to the refrigerator before buying Peach Oolong Tea, it might raise questions. Or worse, rumors.

And in the cultivation world, once something became rumor, it became lore.

Still, even if it did start spiraling that way… Hao knew the system would step in if he intervened himself.

Besides, for now, he was content.

The store was doing well. Everyone who came in at least once seemed to come back. He remembered every regular by face now.

Their orders were already burned into his mental shelf like second-nature muscle memory.

Yue Xueyan, who always bought a cup of spicy instant noodles, a Soft Serve Vanilla Ice Cream, and a can of Peach Oolong Tea.

Lin Yijun, who always came by just for the drinks – sometimes skipping the noodles entirely – just to try a different canned refreshment each visit.

It wasn’t flashy. But it was his.

He didn’t know how long this peaceful rhythm would last.

Didn’t know when the store would be pulled into something bigger, or when the people walking in today might vanish tomorrow – called away by sect duties, breakthroughs, or simply the changing tide of fate.

But that was okay.

It wasn’t fear of the future.

It was simply a quiet appreciation for the now.

Some things weren’t meant to be held forever. Some things were just meant to be enjoyed, moment by moment.

And Hao was learning, slowly but surely, to cherish them as they came.

Hao blinked.

Ah, right. He was still the host.

Snapping out of his thoughts, he lightly tapped the mic crystal embedded in the table and cleared his throat.

“We’ll be taking a ten-minute break before the next match.”

A few murmurs rippled across the room, mostly from those holding in a second round of excitement. But before anyone could disperse too far, Hao raised his hand again.

“Oh, and – one more thing.”

He grinned.

“During this break, anyone can purchase any product. And it won’t count against today’s daily product limit.”

Silence.

Then a beat of confused blinking.

Then –

“Wait… really?”

“Eh? So I can get another Peach Oolong Tea after the tournament?”

“Blessed be the storekeeper!”

People were already getting up.

Some stretched. Some dashed. Others tried to maintain their dignity while speed-walking directly to the fridges.

This particular announcement hadn’t been made earlier. Not in the schedule, not on the signs, not even in the fine print.

Was it a stroke of marketing genius?

A tactical delay to ensure maximum refreshment sales at the peak of audience engagement?

Or…

Was it because Hao had simply forgotten to mention it earlier?

Who could say?

Certainly not Hao, who stood there smiling with that exact expression cultivators often had when trying to look mysteriously wise while actually hiding the fact that they had completely blanked.

Well, no harm done.

If anything, the timing worked perfectly. This was exactly the kind of peak-moment twist that could earn points in audience memory.

He watched the line form, already identifying regulars just by the way they moved.

There went Old Tiger Zhao with his Soft Serve Chocolate Ice Cream craving again.

Dou Xinshi already had two cups of instant noodles in his hands.

Hao let out a satisfied sound, feeling the buzz of the store around him.

The tension from earlier – gone.

Some of the early losers who had looked heartbroken just an hour ago were now laughing, crowding around the drinks section, comparing the fizz levels in different cans like wine tasters. One or two even forgot they had been eliminated and were already planning strategies for “next round” until someone gently reminded them they were, in fact, out.

But they didn’t even look upset anymore.

Because at the end of the day, the tournament wasn’t just about winning.

It was about that extra canned drink they normally couldn’t buy twice in one day.

“This tournament… not that bad actually.”

“Yeah. It felt cruel at first, but now…”

“Maybe we should do this every week?”

“I’d settle for once a month.”

“No, weekly. That way I get an extra drink and I can claim I’m improving myself.”

They were shameless.

Absolutely shameless.

But Hao didn’t mind.

He let them talk, let them joke, let them dream. The store was a space for all of that.

If a small tournament and a one-time rule tweak could make people happy – even those who didn’t make it past round one – then it was worth it.

Besides, wasn’t this the whole point?

Not just to sell, but to make people want to return.

And judging from the twinkle in their eyes and the extra drink in their hands, they absolutely would.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by novlove.com