Chapter 71: Physical Training (Part 2): Come Carry Me

“?” Mu Qian Tan paused to react, uncertainly asking, “Practice with whom?”

Thinking she hadn’t heard clearly, Panxiang Yin repeated, “With the other four hall masters, practicing the most basic physical training.”

These words hit her like a blow to the head. Mu Qian Tan’s language system paralyzed for a moment. Her lips trembled as she sternly refused, “No need! I…”

“This matter is already decided,” Panxiang Yin interrupted her, slightly lowering her voice. “Yao’e, you cannot refuse.”

She seemed mild and approachable, but whenever her words carried a negotiating tone, an invisible pressure emerged, compelling obedience. If it was a direct command to begin with, refusal was impossible—not even a thought of defiance arose. It was probably the instinctive fear from their vast difference in strength.

Even so, Mu Qian Tan braced herself to push back. She had to shake off this matter. She had no desire to exercise with that bunch of perverts. Who knew how they would torment her?

A direct denial might be misinterpreted as laziness or unwillingness to train, so she rephrased. “Godmother, I appreciate your concern, but to be honest, I’m not on good terms with those hall masters. Plenty of them dislike me. Even if I’m willing, they might not be. Let’s not force it.”

Panxiang Yin found this slightly odd. “Oh? But Feng Ling said she gets along well with you. Was she mistaken?”

How was she supposed to respond to that?

She wouldn’t call her relationship with Jiang Zhouyao close, but they got along comfortably. Plus, she had eaten several meals courtesy of her. Denying it now would be rude. Mu Qian Tan could only say, “No, I meant the others.”

Panxiang Yin said, “Wen Xiu claims you’re like sisters, inseparable. What about her?”

Mu Qian Tan nearly spat, “She…” She swallowed it back and changed tack. “Godmother, do you believe that?”

That idiot You Lianmeng! Damn her!

Panxiang Yin said, “Wen Xiu loves to joke around. It’s probably not true. But Immortal Master Shen…”

Another flash of that tacky note crossed her mind. To avoid ear-piercing words, Mu Qian Tan cut in quickly. “I have zero relationship with her!”

Panxiang Yin clasped her hands behind her back and chuckled while shaking her head. “Not that. Before we parted from the Grading Pavilion that day, I asked Immortal Master Shen her opinion after she checked your pulse. She said you urgently needed conditioning and close care. My duties keep me too busy to look after you myself, so I considered having them step in. I asked if they were willing.”

Mu Qian Tan foresaw an unpleasant answer but still asked, “What did they say?”

Panxiang Yin said, “They all agreed.”

Mu Qian Tan’s eye corner twitched slightly. She repeated, “They all agreed?”

Panxiang Yin said, “Yes, so you needn’t worry.”

“…” Mu Qian Tan pursed her lips, speechless. What were these people scheming?

She tried to struggle further. “I still think…”

“Yao’e.” Panxiang Yin called her name with a sigh, her tone turning slightly more serious. “As hall masters, the demons, ghosts, and evils we deal with are tricky ones. Strength is a key standard for establishing status. But your body is frail right now, and you suffer serious injuries at the slightest provocation. How can I rest easy? For your safety, perhaps I should reconsider letting you remain a hall master.”

Was that a threat? Definitely a threat.

This mix of soft and hard tactics made Mu Qian Tan hesitate.

She had no strong attachment to the hall master position anyway. Once she snatched the Female Protagonist’s medicine in the future, fixed her heart issue, and escaped the System’s surveillance, she could roam the vast world freely. Why stick around selling her life for others?

But on second thought, that plot point was years away—June of next year.

In the interim, she needed the Tianyu Sect hall master identity to advance the main storyline. Backed by a great tree for shade, it offered conveniences for clearing tasks and networking. Plus, the monthly stipend was fixed income. Losing the title would hurt.

Even purely for the money, she couldn’t let it go.

She had no intention of starting a wage-slave life in this world so soon.

Weighing her options, Mu Qian Tan gritted her teeth. “Then I’ll follow your arrangements, godmother.”

Panxiang Yin saw her lower her gaze, seemingly compliant yet hiding dissatisfaction in her eyes. She shook her head gently and spoke earnestly. “Yao’e, I cherish you, but I can’t always indulge you. Ever since Shuang’er left, you’ve been utterly listless. I gave you time to recover, but it ended with Qi Deviation, a shattered heart, and a ruined body.”

The Shuang’er in question was likely Qin He’s sister, Qin Shuang. The moment the name registered, Mu Qian Tan’s heart surged with sharp pain—like glass shards had been stabbed in. Even brushing against the name caused it to contract and sting.

It was the lingering sensation from the original host’s body.

Not wanting to betray any issue, Mu Qian Tan clenched her fist and endured. Her face paled further as she softly said, “I understand, godmother.”

Seeing her pallor, Panxiang Yin chose not to press. One reminder sufficed; more would backfire. She concluded, “The sect is a colossal behemoth. Marching forward, it can’t see its feet. Stragglers get trampled to dust easily. You’re high up now, but never let your guard down. A fall from any height happens in a blink. Heed your godmother’s words—you won’t regret it.”

Her gaze dropped to the several full boxes at her feet. “We’ll discuss joint training after you’re healed. No rush. Plenty of healing medicines here—use them. Also some spirit herbs and ingredients from that child Feng Ling. I’ve replaced your little pot and stove too. Cook whatever you like. Same as always: eat well.”

What little pot and stove? That wasn’t hers—it was dug up by the Brain-Damaged Dragon! Now it was pinned on her, ruining her reputation!

Mu Qian Tan couldn’t even look up. Sure, being treated like a child by a woman over a century old was normal. But mentally, she balked. Three years shy of thirty—twenty-seven years old—and hit with “little pot and stove”? Mortifying. Hard to explain, she mumbled, “Got it. No more, please.”

As if on cue, Shang Shan clanged the pot lid like a gong from over there. “Tonight, I want dry-fried green beans with braised noodles!”

Panxiang Yin laughed. “Your disciple is brimming with energy.”

Compare to Jiang Zhouyao’s disciple Qin He—obedient, sensible, mature, steady. Then this one, hopping like a monkey. Mu Qian Tan felt no pride, only mild embarrassment. “Don’t mind her… Godmother, aren’t you busy?”

“A few words, and you’re shooing me?” Panxiang Yin feigned annoyance.

Mu Qian Tan felt utterly helpless. “No, godmother. How could I dare?”

Panxiang Yin broke into a smile. “Fine, I’ll stop. You mentioned memory loss last time—forgotten matters. I’m here to say: don’t rush. Recuperate slowly; it might return.”

“No duties for now. While healing, head to the hall masters for training. Use the chance to temper your temper and catch up on recent events. Mutual aid beats going solo.”

Mu Qian Tan nodded rapidly. “Mm, got it.”

She watched Panxiang Yin fly off, vanishing at the horizon where blue sea met sky. Mu Qian Tan finally slumped into the chair, hand to forehead, frowning.

The thought of seeking out those hall masters after recovery—especially the ones who looked down on her—filled her with nameless anger and frustration.

October now. Next plot point: June next year.

Her first post-transmigration super long vacation—half a year!—ruined. Forced to share it with those irritants. Awful.

Her heavy mood drew Shang Shan’s notice. She approached cautiously, pot lid in hand. “Master, you don’t want to go?”

Mu Qian Tan snapped irritably, “Do I have a choice?”

Shang Shan said, “Then I’ll go with you.”

Mu Qian Tan said, “What’s that change?”

Shang Shan said, “Together, I can stop them bullying you.”

Mu Qian Tan eyed her. “Who do you think you are? Can’t even beat me—how’ll you make them listen?”

Shang Shan clanged the pot lid. “Don’t put it like that…”

She muttered on, aware her strength meant nothing to hall masters. She trailed off and turned to rummage the ingredient box. “Tonight, good eats!”

Mu Qian Tan exhaled sharply, tamped down her temper, and returned to the hall. Perched on the jade coffin, the more she dwelled, the more stifled she felt. She flung out a palm. Fierce spiritual light smashed the wall, leaving a crack with rubble cascading down.

She calmed after a moment, accepting the unchangeable reality. She self-motivated: No vacation, but she wanted to train anyway—goal achieved. Her only gripe was being forced. When facing the hall masters, just stay sharp.

Sarcasm? Fire back. Handsy? Fight if it came to that.

With that settled, Mu Qian Tan recalled something. She unslung the slender rusty sword from her back, gripped both ends, and laid it across her knees.

She asked, “What was your original relationship with those hall masters?”

Amnesia excuse covered her, but more intel never hurt.

A thin spiritual glow emerged amid the dark brown rust. The rust receded, revealing the gleaming blade. A cool female voice drifted out. “No relationship.”

She had been aloof before too—direct questions yielded little. Mu Qian Tan got specific. “How’d you get acquainted with You Lianmeng?”

The female voice said, “Not very.”

She added slowly, “She is the Dream-Indulging Immortal. Nightmares plagued me before, so I sought her out. We soaked in hot springs together.”

Great Immortal indeed—with that unreliable street immortal vibe, utterly unserious. Soaking together meant everything visible. No wonder she stripped her last time—to check for swaps.

Ordinary demons faking human skin couldn’t match intimate body details without seeing.

Recalling the alley last time—pinned down, nearly stripped—Mu Qian Tan frowned deeply, disgust roiling.

Next encounter, payback time.

She lowered her head again. “With the Dream-Indulging Immortal’s aid, why did your heart shatter and kill you?”

The female voice fell silent.

Always like this: answered what she wanted, silence otherwise. Mu Qian Tan was used to it and switched questions. “Was Panxiang Yin good to you usually?”

The female voice said, “Very good.”

“And Xie Mei?”

“She couldn’t stand me.”

“Shen Xin?”

“She couldn’t see me.”

Odd at first—Shen Xin’s eyes were fine.

But recalling the Grading Pavilion: always spaced out, eyes only for intriguing cases. Overlooking a non-close hall master? Unsurprising.

“What about Jiang Zhouyao?”

A pause, then, “She is a good person.”

As informative as nothing.

Rust began creeping back over the blade. Mu Qian Tan prepared to store it but remembered one last thing. “Why were you never curious about my identity?”

Her body occupied by a stranger, yet no proactive questions. Baffling.

The spiritual glow faded into rust. Silence. Just as Mu Qian Tan assumed no reply, right before the rust sealed: “As long as it’s not me, anyone will do.”

The sword fell quiet once more.

Mu Qian Tan mulled those final words—light as wind, brimming with self-loathing, nearly spilling over.

She frowned irritably, gripped and rubbed the hilt for a bit, then said, “Best not think that way. Hate anyone but yourself. Even if you claim unworthy, believe you are. Thick-skinned living is freer. You should say: If not me, then no one.”

Whether the sword spirit heard or not, Mu Qian Tan propped the rusty sword upright beside her. As she moved to lie down and rest, her palm brushed the raised cloud-pattern carving on the coffin edge. She glanced down.

The jade coffin had a warm, translucent sheen, clearly a top-grade treasure, but no matter how superior, it was still a coffin. You Lianmeng said the sect leader had given her this jade coffin. From their recent interactions, the sect leader doted on her greatly—how could she possibly send something so inauspicious?

Thinking back to Yao’e’s final words from earlier, it suddenly made sense. This probably wasn’t something the sect leader had offered of her own accord; Yao’e must have selected it herself.

Though its appearance was somewhat unlucky, since it was a treasure, it was bound to have some effects. Since transmigrating into this world, Mu Qian Tan had seen her share of corpses in all shapes and sizes, so she no longer found it ominous. She pushed open the coffin lid and lay straight inside, eager to test its effects.

The moment she lay down, a clear fragrance and chill wafted in from all directions.

As she admired the smooth coffin walls, a chilling wind seeped into her body from behind, making her bones shiver even in their crevices. Her blood flow slowed, her wounds barely ached, and her eyelids grew heavy.

Drowsiness soon washed over her. In her haze, Mu Qian Tan thought this coffin must have been dug straight from a tomb—its hypnotic effect rivaled the embrace of death itself.

And why not? Death was, after all, an eternal slumber.

After two months in Azure Palace, December arrived, bringing a sharp drop in temperature. The sky froze and the earth chilled. The Narrow Sea was especially harsh; the courtyard ponds were covered in a thin layer of ice, the soil turned a bruised purple-black, and even a shovel strike left only a white mark.

Shang Shan’s Little Wooden Hut was finally complete. With no greenery for shade, it sat exposed on a thick tree trunk. Its walls were a single uneven slab—rather an eyesore, but it had a door and a roof, making it barely livable.

Mu Qian Tan stepped out from the hall and saw the girl bustling at the stove, steam billowing everywhere.

Breakfast was vegetable soup and preserved vegetable buns—dishes she usually enjoyed—but Mu Qian Tan couldn’t muster any cheer. She hated winter the most; the cold seeped into her bones, and she hadn’t smiled once since the chill set in. The only silver lining was that her wound had finally healed, leaving just a faint scar.

But that silver lining also meant it was time to start exercising.

Panxiang Yin had sent word that morning: Mu Qian Tan could now meet the hall masters one by one in sequence. They had tailored exercise regimens just for her, guaranteed to leave her body much stronger after completing the set. Mu Qian Tan listened with a blank expression, finished her breakfast, and headed to the residence of the first hall master, Xie Mei, on Clarity Mountain.

Before her loomed a black mountain overgrown with weeds, its thin, withered branches baring the winter chill. She craned her neck but couldn’t see the peak, lost in the clouds. Between the towering cliffs on either side snaked a pale stone staircase, deserted and stretching endlessly upward.

Follow this mountain path to the summit, and one would reach Jade-Selecting Immortal Xie Mei’s Luminous Temple.

Mu Qian Tan stood at the base, draped in a silver-white cloak with a fluffy fur collar framing her neck, accentuating her jade-like pallor. She glanced up at the peak and raised a hand to summon White Pupil, only to find her body—once brimming with spiritual power—utterly empty.

She froze for a moment, then checked carefully. Her spiritual power was truly gone.

Looking down, she noticed faint white wisps flowing across the black soil’s surface, betraying the presence of a spiritual power array. It didn’t take much to guess: the formation sealed visitors’ spiritual power, forcing them to climb the mountain step by step on foot.

Mu Qian Tan’s face darkened; not even snowflakes dared approach her icy expression.

Shang Shan had thrown on a black cloak haphazardly—it threatened to slip off her shoulders—while underneath was still that Dawn Robe, patched with even more colors since their last return. It stood out glaringly amid the black cloak and pallid landscape.

With one foot already on the stairs, she gazed upward and marveled, “Wow, it’s so desolate here—not a single bird in sight. Even emptier than the Narrow Sea!”

Mu Qian Tan asked, “Can you use your spiritual power?”

“How could I not?” Shang Shan found the question odd, but when she clenched her fist to circulate it, she realized she was mortal once more! She paled in shock. “It’s gone! I’ve been ambushed!”

Mu Qian Tan turned to leave. “Let’s go.”

Shang Shan blinked. “Huh? We just got here?”

Mu Qian Tan replied coldly, “She has no manners at all. She thinks far too highly of herself.”

They hadn’t even laid eyes on her yet, and already this nonsense. Even if the sect leader had put her in charge of the training plan, she couldn’t just dictate terms without any discussion. Forcing Mu Qian Tan to hike up herself was beyond arrogant—she had no intention of indulging someone like that.

Besides, the stairs numbered in the thousands at least. She’d have to be insane to climb a mountain this early.

But after just two steps, a shallow blue wall rose before her—the edge of the formation, rippling like water. It looked soft but proved unyieldingly solid; she couldn’t pass through.

“…”

She searched left and right but found no exit.

The array had trapped her here. The only path left was back up that mountain road.

This Xie…

Mu Qian Tan endured it, grinding her molars. “Brain-Damaged No. 4.”

No point cursing thin air—she’d save it for her face. With a cold snort, she flung her cloak and turned back, voice sharp. “Up the mountain.”

Shang Shan was baffled but chirped, “Got it!”

Climbing a mountain was dreadfully dull, especially with so few people and nothing but barren woods on either side to look at. The process dragged on endlessly.

Sweat beaded on her forehead, her breaths grew labored, and cold air stung her lungs. Mu Qian Tan paused, rubbing her aching knees as she watched the squirrel-like girl leap up the stairs, occasionally darting into the withered woods to flap her cloak like wings. Bursting with vitality, she made the scar on Mu Qian Tan’s heart bubble with sourness once more.

Youth was wonderful. A strong body was wonderful. Carefree and unburdened.

Mu Qian Tan watched coldly and pressed on for another stretch. The sun emerged, bringing some warmth, but the ache in her legs was now impossible to ignore. Her chest tightened, breaths came short, dizziness set in, and thirst gnawed at her.

She’d figured Xie Mei disliked her too much to even provide water, so she hadn’t brought any. Who could’ve guessed she’d have to scale a mountain before even meeting the woman?

Another segment, and she neared this body’s limit. Mu Qian Tan stopped, steadying herself with hands on her knees as she panted. Overwhelmed by discomfort, she furrowed her brow and truly grasped just how frail she was without spiritual power to bolster her.

She muttered, “Yao’e Immortal, surviving this long must not have been easy for you.”

After catching her breath, she looked up to see Shang Shan drifting back. “There you are. I couldn’t spot you earlier—thought I’d lost you. Turns out you’re moving so slow.”

“…”

Even knowing the Brain-Damaged Dragon meant no harm, it still felt humiliating.

And while she suffered here on the brink of collapse, why did that one get to frolic so happily?

Infuriating just to watch.

“Let’s keep going, or we’ll miss lunch.” Shang Shan rubbed her belly. “I’m starving.”

Two rosy flushes from exertion bloomed on her snow-white cheeks, brimming with life. She grinned down at Mu Qian Tan. “Too hungry to bear it. I’ll head up to Master first and check what Jade-Selecting Immortal prepared for the meal.”

With that, she ascended light as a sprite, on the verge of vanishing from sight. Mu Qian Tan called out, “Shang Shan.”

Shang Shan turned back. “Hm?”

She wouldn’t make it up alone. External aid was needed—and the only option was that girl.

As her master, it felt a tad unethical, but after all those meals she’d provided, it evened out. Without a shred of guilt, Mu Qian Tan said, “Come carry me.”