**The Dune of Delirium**
Master Long Jian trudged through the Golden Scorpion Desert, his robes crusted with sand and regret. The sun glared down like Lady Mei Ling’s disapproving stare. His canteen had run dry days ago, replaced by a haunting mantra: *“Why didn’t I just buy the jade hairpin?”*
A mirage flickered ahead—a shimmering oasis! **“Water! Glorious water!”** he croaked, lunging toward it… only to face-plant into a dune. The “oasis” was a rock shaped like a teapot. **“EVEN THE ROCKS MOCK ME!”**
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**The Hermit of Questionable Wisdom**
A figure emerged from the haze: **Old Man Mirage**, a self-proclaimed desert sage selling “100% Authentic Oasis Maps” (drawn in crayon). **“For 10 coins, I’ll reveal the *Secret Spring of Eternal Apology*!”**
**“I have 3 coins and a linty dumpling,”** Long Jian rasped.
**“Deal!”** The hermit handed him a map leading to **“X marks the spot where I’ll laugh at you.”**
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**The Ladle Mirage (AKA: Mei Ling’s Revenge)**
As Long Jian dug where the map dictated, the sand shifted. A mirage of Mei Ling materialized, wielding a ladle the size of a palm tree. **“YOU FORGOT OUR ANNIVERSARY!”** the illusion roared.
**“I’M SORRY I’M SORRY I’M—”** Long Jian slashed with his sword, only to strike a cactus. Juice squirted into his eye. **“AGH! SPICY!”**
Another mirage appeared: Mei Ling as a **Sand Siren**, singing *“You’re a Terrible Husband”* in perfect key. Long Jian plugged his ears with sand. **“I PREFER YOUR COOKING TO YOUR SINGING!”**
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**The Camel of Judgment**
A camel sauntered over, chewing a thornbush with the enthusiasm of a bureaucrat at a tax audit. Its expression read: *“You’re doomed.”*
**“You understand my pain,”** Long Jian sighed, offering the linty dumpling. The camel ate it, then spit in his face.
**“Desert karma,”** the hermit cackled, now selling “I Survived the Dumbest Sword Saint” souvenirs.
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**The Oasis Trap**
At last, Long Jian found a real oasis—a pool of crystal water guarded by a sign: *“Property of the Iron Phoenix. Trespassers will be boiled.”* Desperate, he plunged his face in…
**“SPICY HOTPOT BROTH?!”** he gagged, flames shooting from his nostrils. Mei Ling emerged from behind a date palm, ladling more broth into the pool.
**“Happy Anniversary,”** she smirked. **“I added extra chili oil. *Just how you like it*.”**
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**The Sandstorm Showdown**
Long Jian, now sweating chili-infused tears, unsheathed his sword. Mei Ling spun her ladle, summoning a sandstorm that spelled *“100 YEARS OF DISHES.”*
**“The *Dust Devil Defense*!”** he cried, flailing his blade to deflect date pits she hurled like shurikens.
**“Your swordwork’s as bland as your vows!”** She ladled sand into his pants.
**“COLD! COLD! COLD!”**
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**The Mirage of Mercy**
As Long Jian collapsed, a final mirage appeared: Mei Ling offering tea. **“Drink, husband,”** she cooed.
**“Is it… poison?”** he wheezed.
**“Worse. *Herbal laxative*.”**
He drank. It was water. **“Wait—*real kindness*?!”**
**“Nope.”** She kicked him into a quicksand pit. **“Just hydrating you for Round 2.”**
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**: The Camel’s Revenge **
As Mei Ling left, the camel stole Long Jian’s sword and trotted off, its hump held high. **“Traitor,”** Long Jian muttered, sinking deeper.
**“Moo,”** said the camel, which was definitely not a cow.
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