Chapter 119: Fireside Chat (Part 1): The Tacit Master-Disciple Pair

What surprised Mu Qian Tan was not only the loss of all her money, but something even more important: the plot had deviated from the original story again, albeit by just a tiny bit.

Could that white serpent not be completely dead yet, still harboring a chance to turn things around?

She rose hurriedly and went to Fu Li’s side to look down. Kun Kun’s condition was utterly miserable, with scales peeled off in multiple places on its body, its mouth agape, and its severed tongue dangling like a thin rope beside its head in a twisted curve. Apart from occasional muscle twitches, there was no sign it could ever get up to fight again.

It had truly lost.

A thunderous burst of laughter exploded beside her ears. Mu Qian Tan narrowed her eyes and looked toward the source not far away.

Fu Chi had probably never savored such a thorough victory before. His laughter alone drowned out all the noise from below, his entire face flushed red from the effort, his palms frantically scratching at his scalp before slamming down on the railing with ear-piercing clangs. If he had seemed mad before entering the Beast Arena, now he was more like the Whitehead Madman.

But laughing wasn’t enough for him. He didn’t restrain his grin at all, pointed at Fu Li, and spat out a rapid string of words that sounded like some local dialect.

His agitation made him speak so fast and densely, like a machine gun, that Mu Qian Tan didn’t understand a single syllable. But from the tone, she could sense it was mockery directed at Fu Li, a way to save face after embarrassing himself in front of everyone. It wasn’t hard to guess how vicious the words were.

Fu Li’s fists slowly clenched. She stared at Kun Kun, which lay motionless in a pool of blood, her lips trembling, bloodshot veins gradually creeping into the corners of her eyes.

The sight of the Whitehead Madman gloating like that was headache-inducing enough, but for Mu Qian Tan, who had just bet all her money thinking victory was certain only to lose it all and end up as broke as that stupid dragon, it was infuriating.

She forcibly suppressed her anger and asked inwardly, “Li Biyuan, explain this.”

Li Biyuan, who had witnessed it all, was dumbfounded too. She didn’t even dare eat her instant noodles anymore, timidly setting them aside and clicking the mouse. “This… I don’t know either…”

Mu Qian Tan’s mind raced for solutions as she continued inwardly, “Can’t you make your incompetence a bit less obvious?”

She glanced at the money she had personally bet away. Having clutched it in her bosom for so long only for it to fly into someone else’s pocket made her seethe. She snapped, “Closed-Eyes Li, I told you to close your eyes, not to close them on everything. Your only job is to detect, provide me with detailed original plot info, and give a simple analysis of the current situation.”

“And then what? You can’t even handle something this minor. The same issue keeps cropping up over and over, and you just sit there like an old turtle, unmoved. Every time I trust your judgment, I end up penniless and empty-handed. Has your conscience turned into soggy instant noodles from the water overflowing in your brain?”

“Someone like you can still draw a salary from that so-called Transmigration Bureau? That just proves capitalists occasionally do charity. If anyone says they’re ruthless and deserve the lamppost in the future, I’ll use you as a counterexample. At least their garbage collection is decent—giving even trash a place.”

“Stop cursing, stop cursing,” Li Biyuan’s sharp words stabbed straight at her heart, leaving her drenched in sweat. “The kid knows she was wrong. But Sister Tan, when even a tiny change happens in the small world, it can trigger a butterfly effect leading to other changes. There’s a margin for error here—bugs are totally normal as long as they don’t affect the female protagonist’s development…”

“You only serve the female protagonist? Count how many times the plot has deviated already. You still gonna use that excuse?” Mu Qian Tan knew blindly trusting the original book had its own oversights on her part, but responsibility was something to push off when possible, and she was good at it. “No point talking to you—waste of breath. If you can’t fix it, then shut up.”

Li Biyuan meekly lowered her volume. “Okay.”

Mu Qian Tan shifted her attention back to the arena and noticed Fu Li’s anger had built to a boiling point, ready to explode at the slightest touch. She already had a plan in mind to win her money back.

She straightened up slightly and said casually, “Your cousin really has no manners or sense of decorum. No matter what, this final match was held for your birthday, so the birthday girl should be the focus—especially since it’s on your family’s turf. Even if he was dead certain of winning, he should’ve gone easy a bit. Otherwise, that slap to the face stings loud.”

The words seemed to speak up for her, but each point solidly trampled on Fu Li’s temperament of never admitting defeat or accepting humiliation. Sure enough, the girl’s face paled like a ghost. Her fists clenched with cracking sounds as she whipped her head around, teeth gritted, repeating, “Dead certain of winning?”

Then came a low roar. “What makes him dead certain he’ll beat me?”

Mu Qian Tan said airily, “My bad choice of words. But having your spirit beast die miserably on your birthday banquet is too inauspicious—truly no manners. He should’ve let you win this one.”

In truth, ever since that slave had its head cut off and ran laps around the field, the purpose of this bloody Beast Arena showdown had been to spill blood—auspiciousness had nothing to do with it. But those three words “let you win” precisely poked her sore spot, igniting near-explosive fury. Her eyes bulged with rage, her body trembling faintly.

Fu Chi was still basking in his victory high. He pulled out gold pellets one by one and tossed them into the betting plate for his own victory, taunting, “Don’t say I bullied you, cousin. How many more snakes you got? Send ’em all out! Your cousin’s playing you to the end today! First one to cry uncle is a grandson!”

“One more round!”

Fu Li changed the rules. Her venomous gaze stabbed toward Fu Chi as the Startling Kill Snake Bone Whip coiled around her right arm loosened and slid down, whipping out a dazzling white flash. The whistling crack of torn air echoed across the entire platform.

Fu Chi’s smile finally toned down a bit at the sight of the whip.

Any descendant with Fu Clan blood could obtain a snake bone whip, but only direct heirs got the best one, with the qualification to implant its end into their wrist, linking it to their bloodline. It became an extension of their arm and bones for more fluid control, growing stronger with the owner’s power—nothing but benefits.

His own could only be held in hand. Never mind the gap as a weapon; its symbolism alone in terms of status was enough to make him burn with jealousy.

The former clan head was dead. What right did his wife have to succeed him? She even dared name her own daughter as heir. That position should’ve been his…

His upward smirk twisted slightly downward, his eyes brimming with cold, venomous malice. “Fine, one more round. Which snake you sending this time?”

“No snake needed.” Fu Li cracked the whip again, stepped onto the protective railing, and leaped down. “I’ll end this beast myself!”

A white shadow flashed from the platform like a flowing tassel drifting to the arena floor. The spectators outside held their breath at the sudden move—the entire Beast Arena fell deathly silent.

Fu Chi was stunned for a moment before curling his lips back into a grin, laced with hidden excitement. “Great, then come on down yourself. If the snakes bite you dead, that’s on you—you asked for it…”

After a brief shock, Mu Qian Tan adjusted.

Her words had just been a simple goading tactic, meant to force the kid Fu Li to compete more rounds for the sake of face. If they kept losing afterward, she’d drag it out until she finally won the showdown. So as long as she kept betting on Fu Li, victory was certain.

Who knew she’d overdone the goading? The kid had jumped in herself!

That was a massive spirit beast trained specifically for combat—how could a child like her handle it?

If anything bad really happened, the fallout would inevitably land on Mu Qian Tan’s head. Guest status or not, it’d be a messy account. She just wanted her money back, not extra trouble.

After a moment of vexed thoughts, she let out a long breath and reassessed the situation. Suddenly, she realized it wasn’t hopeless.

If Fu Chi’s giant serpent had been at full strength, ten Fu Lis might struggle. But it wasn’t. In the just-ended match, it had already been weakened once at the cost of Kun Kun’s life. In other words, the serpent was now likely a spent force—even if not, it couldn’t be much stronger.

There was a chance to win.

But to be safe, Mu Qian Tan wanted to boost the odds and prevent that little turtle bastard from getting hurt. She turned backward and said, “Shang Shan, you go too.”

Fu Chi was taken aback. “Two people now?”

Mu Qian Tan replied, “She only said one more round—didn’t specify rules. Why not two?”

Fu Chi’s lips twitched as he glanced at Shang Shan but said nothing.

He still had immense confidence in the serpent that had won him face. No matter how many people they added, they couldn’t beat a colossal spirit beast. Plus, he’d just been publicly slapped down by that girl earlier—having his beast teach her a lesson now was perfect. No need to stop it.

Mu Qian Tan knew he’d think that way, and his lack of objection confirmed it. Shang Shan had followed her when she abruptly stood and rushed to the railing, peering down too. At the order, she didn’t hesitate—mumbled an acknowledgment, propped her hands on the railing, vaulted over, and landed beside Fu Li.

One more short. Mu Qian Tan glanced back and saw Qin He leaning toward Jiang Zhouyao, asking permission. She must have gotten approval, as Qin He walked to the railing, braced one hand, flipped over, and landed lightly like a feather behind the other two.

That kid wouldn’t let Shang Shan face such danger alone, so all three would end up down there. And since it was Fu Chi’s serpent, none of the elders could join without impropriety—winning would just draw mockery. This was the optimal solution, perfectly suiting Mu Qian Tan’s intentions. Victory odds had shot up!

Down below, the trio sized up the giant serpent. Fu Yuzhu and Jiang Zhouyao had also left their seats to stand at the front. With their daughters and disciples in the arena, it was natural. What surprised Mu Qian Tan was that the woman targeted and lectured by Fu Li at the barbecue feast was there too.

The singer stood in the platform’s farthest corner, still skeletal and frail, her complexion somewhat improved but not by much. The wound on her knee must have been bandaged, though the shackle remained on her ankle. If not for Fu Li’s eye-catching actions, she would’ve stayed huddled in some nook.

Mu Qian Tan had no interest in her story, merely sparing her a glance before withdrawing her gaze. She lightly tugged Jiang Zhouyao’s sleeve and whispered, “Feng Ling Immortal, could I borrow some money?”

Hearing such words from Yao’e Immortal’s mouth was apparently startling. A faint ripple crossed Jiang Zhouyao’s ever-calm face, but she quickly produced a delicate floral pouch from her sleeve. Before she could ask how much, the entire pouch was snatched.

“…” Still posed with the empty sleeve, Jiang Zhouyao reassessed this friend.

Mu Qian Tan plastered her thick-skinned resolve on her face. “I’ll return it to you soon, Immortal.”

She tossed the pouch up and caught it, then said to Fu Chi, “Let’s bet.”

Even Fu Chi, vile on the surface and viler within, was stunned for a beat before saying, “Your disciple’s down there too. You don’t worry about her safety and still have the mood to bet?”

Mu Qian Tan placed the small pouch on Fu Li’s side of the platform. “She’s my disciple, so I’m betting big this time to show my master’s support.”

Jiang Zhouyao stared at the pouch, feeling the cut on her lip bleeding again—this time from heartache.

Fu Chi chuckled, ruffled his scalp, and casually scattered a handful of gold pellets onto the platform. “Fine, money’s no object—I’ve got plenty.”

Mu Qian Tan eyed the amount, feeling he wasn’t going all out, and pressed, “Betting like this with you—does it fit that wicked image you have of me in your head?”

Fu Chi sneered. “I thought those were just rumors.”

Mu Qian Tan met his gaze. “So you’re spreading hearsay without even knowing if it’s true.”

Fu Chi shot back, “If it’s fake, shouldn’t you have spoken up? Or done some good deeds to prove you’re not a villain? But you did nothing, right? Suspicion’s got reasons.”

Mu Qian Tan replied, “By that logic, I can suspect your clan is running out of money.”

“Ha?” Fu Chi laughed as if he’d heard the world’s funniest joke. “My clan won’t run dry even after you’re long dead!”

Mu Qian Tan said coolly, “Really? But I hear rich young masters spend money like water. Your bets are still too restrained—are you scared of losing? Or maybe you just don’t have that much left? After all, you’re not main family—just a side branch, not as deep-pocketed…”

This really hit a sore spot. Fu Chi’s eye corner twitched as he immediately rummaged through his entire body for golden jewelry and treasures, slamming them onto the platform. Still deeming it insufficient, he yanked off the decorative jewelry from his wrist and white armor, along with several gemstone rings, piling it all up. He snarled viciously, “You’ve never seen this much money in your life, have you? Look, take a few good looks to savor it—anyway, it won’t be yours in the end.”

He lowered his voice, his gaze turning chillingly cold. “And this Fu Clan too—it’ll fall into my hands sooner or later. You should remember to look at it more now, or else I absolutely won’t let an unqualified person like you set even one foot in the Radiant Palace.”

That pile of gleaming gold on the platform made life feel beautiful just by looking at it. Mu Qian Tan gave him a smile. “Stay back, you’re scary. At least this willingness to throw money around is one redeeming quality that upgrades your repulsive face to human level.”

Fu Chi didn’t register her words, and the bell signaling the start of the duel rang out, drawing away his attention. Mu Qian Tan’s fingertip brushed over that small floral money pouch, and she suddenly remembered that the Stupid Dragon had borrowed money from Qin He a couple days ago, while she herself had borrowed from Jiang Zhouyao today…

The disciple borrowed money to buy erotic books, the master borrowed money to place bets on gambling—they were a master-disciple pair, and the people they borrowed from were also a master-disciple pair. In a certain sense, they were pretty in sync.

This brought a subtle sense of awkwardness.