Chapter 103: Evil-Faced Cat Official (Part 1): Slept Even More Soundly Than Before Part 2

Mu Qian Tan turned her head and saw her black clothes neatly folded on the headboard, topped by her weapon wrapped in white cloth and a bulging storage pouch.

She had not felt much relief at Xiao Xian’s death, but now her heart truly settled back into her chest. Mu Qian Tan shook off her hand, waddled two steps, and yanked the storage pouch over, wanting to open it and check if everything was there.

She lifted both flippers—one intact, the other thickly bandaged—not ideal for untying the pouch. Just as she sat to try with her claws, Shang Shan had already undone the opening for her. “Look like this.”

Mu Qian Tan unceremoniously shoved her whole face into the pouch. Her eyes lit up with dazzling golden treasures—delightful to behold. The money pouch was there too, exuding an illusory scent of wealth that did not actually exist. She wanted to live in this pouch forever and never come out.

Shang Shan propped her head, lying sideways beside her, watching as Mu Qian Tan nearly buried her head in the bag. A smile unconsciously tugged at her lips. Softly, she said, “Does Master want to know how Xiao Xian died?”

No response came.

Shang Shan asked again. Still nothing. She grew a bit worried. Sulking in the bag?

She quickly reached to stroke her nape. This unbelievably soft gray furball was lifted from the pouch. Eyes closed, she had actually fallen asleep again.

Shang Shan gazed at her quietly for a moment, then set her down. The little monster bird naturally pillowed into her palm, sleeping even more soundly than before.

She had heard her master bled herself on the mountain to draw the formation and save people, running all over. She must be exhausted.

Shang Shan had a bellyful of words to say, but swallowed them all for now. She just cradled her master’s head like this, watching her for a good while until she gradually drifted into dreams herself.

This time, sleep came after setting aside all worries and concerns. With accumulated fatigue bursting forth, it was exceptionally deep—like sinking to the bottom of a deep lake, surrounded by utter tranquility.

When Mu Qian Tan opened her eyes again, her mind was brimming with energy, her brain clear, and the pain in her body even sharper. Only then did she feel like she had truly recovered.

A gentle evening breeze from the window caressed her face. She narrowed her eyes slightly and pondered: this nap had been truly long; she had woken up to a darkened sky.

The dry summer night was perfect for meditation. Mu Qian Tan savored the tranquility after the chaos, lying peacefully for a while before propping herself up on the bed. She raised a flipper and glanced at it—still a penguin’s wing.

Unsure what expression to make, she shifted her gaze downward. A small blanket covered her body, seemingly tailored just for her. It was only a little long, barely covering her belly, with her flippers sticking out—like a decorative cloth draped over an old television.

It was quite lively outside, filled with huffing and puffing sounds as plenty of people worked away. Mu Qian Tan pushed off the blanket, waddled to the window, and peered out over the sill.

Under the brilliant evening glow, a group of Pot City residents cleared rubble and rebuilt houses. The old man directed from the front as carts rumbled by. Some people squatted by the roadside, bowls in hand, cheeks stuffed full like chipmunks, waiting for their shift. Even as dusk fell, everyone bustled about with full vigor.

Her gaze swept around and landed on a girl with an exceptionally fair face weaving through the crowd to help. When the girl reached the building below, Mu Qian Tan saw her full face and realized it was Shang Shan. She was helping carry timber, dressed in black robes with a bandage wrapped around the wrist peeking from her sleeve.

That bit of white stirred Mu Qian Tan’s memory. She glanced back at the bedside.

Her clothes, weapons, storage pouch, and bundle were all there, intact and complete. Her heart eased a little at first, then she recalled further: before this awakening, she seemed to have briefly woken once. Back then, both she and Shang Shan had been sleeping here, with this stupid dragon wrapped in bandages and lying motionless. And now she was scampering about?

This physique was terrifying. What had the villain done wrong to have to fight a freak like this?

But physique or not, it didn’t matter. Even if the protagonist had a frail constitution that couldn’t carry a hand or shoulder a load, the author would contrive ways for her to win, granting her success in every aspect with perfect justification.

In contrast, no matter how excellent the settings piled on a villain, they meant nothing. The moment she was cast as the villain, failure was sealed, destined to be the most spectacular stepping stone on the protagonist’s path to glory.

Lost in such random thoughts, Mu Qian Tan’s stomach growled. She clutched her belly and glanced casually downstairs—only to lock eyes with the girl.

The item she had been holding was taken by someone else. She stood there empty-handed, looking up.

Someone passed by her side, probably telling her to rest. The girl’s gaze didn’t shift. She nodded, took a wet cloth, and wiped her face. When she opened her eyes again, she still looked up.

The evening breeze blew on and on. She tied up her hair, revealing her flawless face. One penguin and one girl stared at each other across the short distance. Mu Qian Tan saw the sunset hues reflected in her eyes and heard her own stomach rumbling persistently.

She was hungry.

Since turning into this form, she hadn’t eaten. There had been the mad dash through hell and blood-drawn arrays. She had no idea how many days she had slept, but surviving without starving was lucky enough. Now that the crisis was over, she had to stuff herself no matter what.

She had visited aquariums at least ten times and knew what penguins ate: krill, small fish, squid, and so on. In Pot City, small fish were probably the easiest to find. But did she have to eat them raw? That felt hard to stomach…

As she debated raw fish versus cooked, a big black dog’s head suddenly poked through the window. “Immortal, do you know how I can change back?”

Mu Qian Tan jolted, her gray fur exploding like a dandelion. She nearly spat spiritual power but held it back.

She narrowed her eyes and recognized Tan Que. In black dog form, she was huge—standing on the first floor, she could still chat with her. This sudden bark had scared her badly. She wanted to curse, but remembering the sound her mouth would make, she clamped it shut. She’d settle the score later, once she transformed back.

A hand gripped the top of the window frame. Shang Shan half-knelt on the dog’s head, ducked inside, holding a shoe in her other hand. She hopped onto the bed, walked to the bedside, set the shoe down, and turned back. “Is Master hungry?”

Mu Qian Tan said nothing, but her stomach rumbled a few more times. Shang Shan set the shoe aside, moved in front of her, grasped both flippers, leaned down, and pressed her ear to the belly. “This noise… sounds like hunger.”

Penguin Tan yanked free, slapped her ear, and pecked her head hard. This wicked disciple taking advantage of her weakness to act above her station! Stupid dragon! How dare she presume to guess her master’s intentions? Mu Qian Tan mentally tallied the second debt.

Shang Shan rubbed her ear, sat cross-legged, and called to the big dog by the window. “My master definitely doesn’t know how either. Look, she’s still like this.”

Third debt tallied.

Tan Que wagged her fan-like ears. “Got it. If the immortal hasn’t changed back, then I’m relieved.”

Fourth debt tallied.

Relieved, playfulness kicked in. Tan Que yanked her head out and trotted off to play.

Shang Shan turned away, grabbed two round boxes from the bedside table, one in each hand. “Not sure what Master can eat, so I got two kinds of food.”

Seeing no reaction, Shang Shan held up the box in her right hand. “This one is from the bird keeper. He said it’s called mealworms. I peeked inside—um… very plentiful. I feel like Master won’t like it, but I’ll ask anyway.”

Mealworms—those tiny, rice-grain-like yellow worms. Mu Qian Tan had unfortunately seen a bucket once, and it had turned her stomach for days. Just thinking about it made her dizzy; she squeezed her eyes shut tight.

Shang Shan put the mealworms back on the bedside table and held up the other box. “This one has fish and shrimp. Can you eat these?”

Penguin Tan opened her eyes but didn’t move. Shang Shan understood, popped the lid, revealing a white porcelain plate garnished with sliced fish, small yellow fish, and red shrimp—all raw by the look of them.

Mu Qian Tan hesitated. Shang Shan said, “Don’t want it raw? I’ll get it cooked for you.”

This girl could read faces like mind-reading.

Shang Shan hopped off the bed, carried the box out the door, and didn’t return until full darkness fell. She held the white porcelain plate in one hand and a wooden basin in the other, shouldered the door open sideways, entered, kicked it shut, and set both on the table. She beckoned. “Come on.”

The fish and shrimp gave off an irresistible aroma. Mu Qian Tan’s stomach growled louder, but she didn’t budge.

She beckoned again, as if saying, “Come here yourself.” Realistically, foraging on her own would be tough right now, so she had no choice but to let this stupid dragon help.

Thus, still clinging to her master’s dignity, she stood tall, chest puffed, and waddled as straight as she could—still wobbling side to side—across the entire bed, hopped to the floor, and reached the table.

The process dragged on long enough for that stupid dragon to finish a full meal. But she sat by the table, eyes following her every move, saying nothing—quite patient.

Standing by the table leg, the surface loomed three or four times her height. Penguin Tan pondered a dignified way to climb up when two hands scooped under her flippers and lifted her onto the table.

“…”

Things had been tense in hell, with plot to push and her brain in overdrive, so she hadn’t cared much about how she was handled then.

But now, with everything settled and no distractions, she realized this dynamic was all wrong. How many paws did this stupid dragon have to dare touch her like that?

Being manhandled irked her. Penguin Tan snorted coldly and shot the girl a warning glare not to try it again—only for it to draw a curved, smiling gaze.

She knew her current form had little intimidation. Even she, who hated animals, couldn’t resist glancing extra at baby penguins. And this was a plushie fanatic stupid dragon. At the thought, sorrow washed over her. She sat before the white porcelain plate and sighed.

Strength was truly the foundation of fear and respect.

Shang Shan suddenly asked, “Master turned into this monster bird—when did it happen? Was it when you went to the Heavenly Palace and the cup shattered?”

Monster bird? It was a penguin! Though normal for this world not to know; it’d be weird if anyone recognized it. Mu Qian Tan hooked a flipper on the plate’s edge, mentally corrected the name, ignored the rest, and pretended not to hear.

“Were you feeling unwell after coming down from the Heavenly Palace? Is that why you didn’t help save people?” Shang Shan picked up chopsticks and teased out spines from a small fish. “That old grandpa said you went up the mountain to bleed yourself to save everyone and fainted in the end. So I thought, if you’re willing to do that, you definitely didn’t hold back against Qiu Ling on purpose back then.”

The guesses grew wilder. Mu Qian Tan lowered her head, watching the chopstick tip weave through the fish meat, letting the words go in one ear and out the other.

These small fish had tiny, dense bones blended right into the flesh. Picking them out was more intricate than defusing mines. As she watched, she suddenly recalled: her first proper meal in Pot City, this stupid dragon had picked the bones from a bowl of fish for her.

A fitting end to a beginning?

Li Biyuan murmured inwardly: ‘Touched. So touched. Our female protagonist is truly too kind. She’s making excuses to absolve you.’

Mu Qian Tan stared at the fish meat: ‘I think it’s just empty-headed.’