Chapter 112: Radiant Seton (Part 4): Erotic Paintings! Part 1

The small table flipped over, sending cups and plates crashing to the ground with a huge clatter. Shang Shan’s hand twitched slightly as she gripped it, her sleepiness dissipating. She sat up and blinked in confusion. “What happened?”

Fu Li was in the midst of towering rage and could not hear anyone else speaking. Her sudden outburst startled Qin He into a brief daze; she stared blankly without reacting. Mu Qian Tan watched coldly from the sidelines and took a sip of wine. Jiang Zhouyao’s face was expressionless, most of her features hidden in the shadows cast by the candlelight.

The surrounding maids acted as if it were nothing unusual and even prepared for cleanup, clearly indicating that such incidents happened often. No one answered Shang Shan’s question. She could only rub her eyes and look for herself. She saw the frail woman whose collar was grabbed, her knees swollen high with dense blood spots from which two trails of blood slid down.

“She’s injured,” Shang Shan murmured. She slid off the soft chair and rushed to the woman’s side. “She’s injured. Why are you grabbing her like that?”

Fu Li’s eyes were threaded with bloodshot red. Under her venomous, snake-like glare, the woman trembled lightly with her eyelashes and murmured unconsciously, “Li…”

It was as if fine porcelain had cracked. Fu Li froze for a moment before her face piled up with even more surging anger.

Her fingers gripped the woman’s collar too tightly, turning the skin pale and making her joints creak. Her voice shook but remained firm. “Do you think you’re still my teacher? How many times have I corrected you? Even kneeling for three days straight couldn’t teach you to change your address?”

Seeing that Fu Li was not in a normal state, Shang Shan wanted to rescue the paper-thin frail woman first. But as soon as her hand touched her, it felt like touching ice—cold as if not from a living person. While she was still startled, she heard a certain word.

“Teacher?” She furrowed her eight-character brows and grabbed Fu Li’s hand. “Wait a minute. So she’s your master? How can you treat her like this?”

Fu Li’s gaze slid sideways. “She’s just a traitor. Does she even deserve the honor?”

Shang Shan repeated, “Traitor?”

Fu Li took a deep breath but held it in her chest. Realizing she had said too much, she curled her lips into a cold sneer without answering. Her grip on the woman’s collar did not loosen—instead, it tightened.

The woman had likely not drunk water for a long time; her lips were cracked and peeling. As she tried to speak, tiny blood pearls oozed out. The earlier singing had exhausted her strength, making her voice lighter than the wind. “I’m sorry, Young Fu Clan Head.”

Fu Li said, “Can’t you speak now?”

Shang Shan exerted force with her hand, forcing her to let go. “Put her down first.”

“Fine.” Fu Li spread her five fingers. The woman collapsed from exhaustion, her knees slamming heavily into the ground. The already red, swollen, bleeding wound could not withstand such impact. Pain made her bend over, propping herself up with her elbows as fine beads of sweat covered her forehead.

Fu Li looked down from above. “You fell? If you couldn’t hold yourself steady, you can’t blame me, right?”

Shang Shan’s fingers trembled. She hurried to help her up and grasped the woman’s shoulders, which were so skinny they felt like only bones remained. She looked up angrily. “What are you doing! How can you treat your master like this!”

In her understanding, the worst master was like her own. The worst disciple merely failed to care for their teacher. This kind of deliberate torment was unacceptable to her. In her anger, she even forgot the word “traitor” she had just heard.

“Is there a problem with how I’m treating her?” Fu Li said. “I’m just paying for lessons. Do I have to revere her or something? Hm? If your master did something unforgivable to you, would you let her off later?”

Shang Shan took off her black cloak and draped it over the woman. “Don’t talk nonsense. She wouldn’t.”

Fu Li flung her right arm, and the Startling Kill Snake Bone Whip emerged from her sleeve, dangling and whipping a small circle toward the opposite side. “Don’t speak too boldly. Human hearts are hard to fathom.”

These words were unpleasant to hear. No matter how fierce her master was, she had never harmed her. Shang Shan disliked such speculation. She pursed her lips, unwilling to pay attention anymore. But Fu Li was not done and continued in a mocking tone, “Not everyone is like you, after all.”

Shang Shan’s tone grew a bit sharp. “What’s wrong with me?”

Fu Li said, “Eagerly following behind your master like a dog.”

A few gusts of cold wind swept through the pavilion. Qin He had originally wanted to step forward and break up the fight, but these words shocked her into freezing. She did not even dare glance sideways.

Fu Li had gotten carried away in the argument and spoke without thinking. She even forgot that Shang Shan’s master was sitting right there beside them and had heard everything.

With that person’s temper, she was done for…

Mu Qian Tan lowered her gaze to the red wine and set down her cup.

She did not comment on what Fu Li said, nor did she care much about the attitude. It was not that she had suddenly become magnanimous. Fu Li was right—human hearts were hard to fathom, but fate was even more unpredictable. A slap from out of nowhere was about to land on the face of this ignorant Young Fu Clan Head.

Qin He still mustered her courage and glanced over. Surprisingly, the woman showed no reaction. Relieved, she wanted to break up the fight and prevent things from escalating. But then Shang Shan asked, “Is that bad?”

This was so outrageous that even Mu Qian Tan could not help but glance over. The girl’s eyes were clear, her face full of earnest conviction as she said it.

Fu Li widened her eyes. “You think I’m praising you?”

Shang Shan looked puzzled. “Aren’t you?”

Fu Li moved her lips but could not say anything. Qin He seized the chance to squeeze between them. “Alright, stop arguing.”

However, Fu Li could not stop herself. She gripped the Startling Kill Snake Bone Whip tightly, ready to lash out again, when a clanging sound came from behind—the woman let out a soft hiss of pain.

Everyone turned their heads at once. A bloodstained knife had fallen to the ground, and blood dripped continuously from Jiang Zhouyao’s right hand fingers. Her entire palm quickly turned red, as if she had accidentally cut herself while slicing meat.

“Master!”

“Immortal.”

The two shouted simultaneously and rushed over hurriedly. No one paid attention to the woman anymore. Shang Shan watched their backs and glimpsed the wound through the gap—it was not big. Relieved, she helped the woman stand. “How are you?”

The woman’s legs trembled nonstop, but she still supported herself and slowly straightened up. Her face was bloodless, her lips as pale as paper, yet she smiled lightly. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” Shang Shan said, looking back. “Master, do you have any medicine?”

Mu Qian Tan did not respond and did not even look over—her attitude was clear: no help. Shang Shan understood. She grabbed her sleeve, tore off a strip, squatted down, and wrapped it several times around the woman’s knee to cover the wound. It was not very effective, but at least it would stop the bleeding.

The woman looked somewhat panicked and wanted to push her away, but she had no strength. “No need. Thank you truly.”

Shang Shan said, “It’s fine.”

On the other side, Fu Li said to a maid, “Go get some wound medicine.”

The maid nodded and vanished into the night. The blood on Jiang Zhouyao’s hand was wiped clean with hands from different people. This minor injury was nothing more than a bit of bleeding to a hall master, but the two girls in front of her were extremely anxious. She remained calm, her peripheral vision glancing at the singing woman. Seeing her stand up, she withdrew her gaze.

At that moment, the white bear outside suddenly became alert. It clung to the pavilion pillar, craning its head to look around, nostrils twitching. Because of its movements, the pavilion roof shook slightly, and the candle flames flickered. Before Fu Li could complain, a person walked in from outside.

The person was extremely tall, nearly bumping into the pavilion entrance. A long-handled treasure sword hung at her waist, and she wore a silver helmet. Her dazzling white armor lit up the pavilion somewhat. She had single eyelids, slender eyes, a high nose bridge, and thin lips—her gaze was cold, the type that seemed utterly inhuman. As soon as she entered, she stood to the side, bowing slightly with her right arm crossed in front.

Fu Li raised her voice. “Xi Chen? You’re back? Then… that…”

The white bear caught a familiar scent, released the pavilion, crouched low, and buried its face, not daring to move. Immediately after, a golden-haired woman slowly walked out from the darkness outside. Fu Li’s pupils dilated massively, her voice trembling. “Mother?”

Wasn’t she supposed to return in a few days? Why so early…

The woman who stepped into the light step by step had an overwhelmingly strong presence, her strides wide but slow. Her face looked around forty years old. Her hair was tied back in a coral-like crown made of flower branches, gold, and gems. Her brow bones and nose bridge were prominently high; shadows gathered at the sides of her face and eyes, adding an air of inscrutable mystery.

Her slightly broad shoulders bore a one-sided cloak edged with warm marten tails. A silver coiled snake emblem connected at her right shoulder. Beneath the cloak was half a breastplate and a single arm guard, with sharp silver armor gleaming coldly under the softness. At the bottom was a fitted ink-black long skirt, dotted with silver threads like starlight in the deep black.

Mu Qian Tan finally took interest and looked at her a few more times.

The woman was like an amplified, mature version of Fu Li, but with wind and snow clinging to her shoulders and heavier brows, clearly far more terrifying—like a dangerous female beast lying in wait. She had to be the major boss from the book, the mother of the little lunatic Fu Li: the great lunatic Fu Yuzhu.

Fu Yuzhu’s gaze, sharp as a ruler measuring danger, scanned her own daughter, who was panicking but dared not show it—like a hunting cat eyeing a mouse. She pinched her fingertips and pulled off her right black wool glove, tossing it aside. “Clear out everyone irrelevant.”

Her voice was low and magnetic, with clear enunciation, a slow cadence, and considerable weight—like an iron anchor sinking steadily into the sea. Her subordinates would obey such an order wholeheartedly, wishing they could complete the task in an instant.

The glove landed on Xi Chen’s outstretched arm. She did not even blink, bowed respectfully, carefully picked it up with her other hand, and stored it away. Then she walked to the female singer, grabbed her arm, and dragged her away. The other three rows of singers followed in retreat, and the maids swiftly scattered.

In an instant, only they remained in the pavilion.

Even without knowing her, it was clear the master of the place had arrived. Shang Shan could only watch that person leave; she could no longer interfere.

Only now did she recall Fu Li’s mention of “traitor.” That person must have committed some crime to be treated this way. Though hard to accept, perhaps this was the local punishment method.

The fire in the brazier still burned, roasting away. Fu Li was covered in cold sweat, as if she were the one being roasted.

Not much time had passed, yet she felt like the sky was about to fall. She called out dryly, “Mother…”

Once the servants had all left, Fu Yuzhu strode to the girl and slapped her with the bare hand. The crisp sound made the candle flames jump. The girl turned her face away, her figure trembling slightly as she steadied herself.

It was not Shang Shan who was hit, but she still flinched reflexively, shrinking her neck and taking small steps behind Qin He. Peeking over her shoulder at the mother-daughter pair, she whispered, “What about that person?”

Qin He whispered back, “We don’t know what she did. Better not get involved. What if she committed a grave wrong and we end up helping the wrong side?”

Shang Shan rested her chin on her shoulder. “Fine. Fu Li’s mother slapped her really loudly.”

Qin He sighed. “Worry about yourself. You still have slap marks on your face.”

The red imprints from yesterday’s slap by Yao’e Immortal remained on her face, making her cheeks look like a monkey’s buttocks. Shang Shan covered her face with her hand and fell silent.

Over there, Fu Li’s face quickly swelled. She kept her head down, not daring to touch it. Her earlier arrogant demeanor had vanished completely. Fu Yuzhu smiled and turned her head slightly, explaining, “Bringing out a criminal privately to meet esteemed guests is a grave discourtesy. I’ll discipline her on behalf of everyone.”

Her emerald green eyes resembled a snake’s, always scanning from top to bottom, making people feel slightly uncomfortable. The pavilion fell silent for a moment. After a long while, she broke the quiet. “May I ask who the four of you are?”

Blood dripped from Jiang Zhouyao’s wound again, pattering onto the golden plate and the half-raw meat slices still streaked with blood. She usually valued harmony, hated awkward silences, and loved chiming in—but this time, she did not respond. Her face remained calmly composed, though her complexion had paled somewhat, from who knew when.