Chapter 12: Blazing Fire Burns the Melody (Part 1): What Exactly Do You Want Me to Do?

The immortal crane flew under the leaden black clouds. The dark sea surface was calm and windless, with moonlight spilling a sheet of silver. It must have rained lightly during the day, as the air was slightly humid and stifling, sticking to the skin like a layer of condensed moisture.

Golden Hall Peak was visible in the distance. The money pouch in her palm had been warmed by her body heat. Mu Qian Tan withdrew her gaze and tucked the money pouch back into her sleeve.

The rough texture of the embroidered “Reunion” characters lingered on her fingertips. She rubbed her fingertips, and Panxiang Yin’s words—”Godmother”—echoed in her mind.

She had never expected things to unfold this way. She stood stunned in place for several seconds, which Panxiang Yin mistook for shyness, and laughed heartily for a while.

Shyness?

Would someone with the Original Host’s awful personality feel shy?

Though puzzled, she went along with it and admitted it, exchanging a few inconsequential pleasantries. During this time, Li Biyuan quickly searched the full text using keywords, trying to find the source of this “Godmother” connection, but found no answers.

In other words, the original text never mentioned any such relationship between the two.

Li Biyuan madly clawed at her hair: ‘The author might not even know about this. It’s purely a detail that the Small World filled in on its own during its development. It’s truly impossible to guard against.’

Recalling the sect master’s expression, Mu Qian Tan said: ‘If I had shown surprise just now, she would have suspected my identity, right?’

According to Panxiang Yin’s account, being called Godmother was not something that started one or two days ago. Any sudden unusual expression would definitely arouse suspicion.

Li Biyuan said: ‘Possible. So after this, you should minimize contact with characters other than the protagonist. Even if you run into them, speak as little as possible. Your character setting is someone who is taciturn, aloof, and unapproachable anyway.’

Mu Qian Tan fell silent for a moment before asking: ‘Does it have information on the Original Host’s family, friends, enemies, and so on?’

Li Biyuan said: ‘The book didn’t give you much page time to begin with, let alone detailed descriptions of your interpersonal relationships. Who would know these things?’

To answer questions correctly, knowing the answers in advance was necessary. But unfortunately, her role wasn’t important enough to receive the author’s favor, leaving her past a blank slate. The memories had dissipated along with the Original Host’s death.

Mu Qian Tan’s brows furrowed imperceptibly. She said no more. With a flick of her sleeve, she stood up from the crane: “We’re going down. We’re here.”

White Pupil let out a high-pitched cry. Its wings beat, stirring up a gale as it plummeted abruptly like a white shooting star. Just before landing, it slowed its descent and touched down steadily in the courtyard. One claw stretched straight while the other hooked around Shang Shan’s waist, suspending her.

The girl’s hands and feet dangled limply, like she had no bones. Her eyes stared blankly ahead, her soul flown out of her body.

Mu Qian Tan leaped off the crane and stroked White Pupil’s gray-green sharp beak before properly storing it back into the nape of her neck.

Freed from restraint, Shang Shan immediately hit the ground, smashing face-first onto the floor with a dull thud. She fell hard.

It was late. Time to rest. Mu Qian Tan prepared to enter the hall but after two steps, noticed no movement from the Brain-Damaged Dragon behind her. Doubtfully, she turned back to look.

The girl was still sprawled face-down on the ground. Aside from her pale hands and feet sticking out from her wide robe sleeves, she looked like a log of firewood topped with jet-black hair.

After leaving Penglai Hall, this one had been listless, sitting down upon mounting, clinging to a pillar and saying she didn’t want to go back.

The sect master was busy with affairs and had already departed. Mu Qian Tan stopped pretending and indulging her. She directly ordered White Pupil to grab her and drag her back. The journey had been bumpy, treating her like a ragged cloth sack swinging back and forth.

Seeing her state, Li Biyuan summed it up: ‘You’re pretty impressive too, managing to break the protagonist to the point of having no will to live. Here’s a hidden achievement for you: Dragon Taming Expert. Have you seen that movie?’

‘No.’ Mu Qian Tan replied speechlessly: ‘No will to live? Then treat her as gone. I’ll go revive her now.’

She walked up and nudged the girl’s waist with her toe: “What kind of dead look is that?”

Shang Shan mumbled dully: “Are all you immortals like this?”

Mu Qian Tan said: “Like what?”

Shang Shan turned her head, facing her with the back of her skull: “Bad things bully people, and helpers of bad things bully people too.”

This “thin plank” looked perfect as a footrest. Mu Qian Tan lifted her foot and stepped on the girl’s upper back to the left, mimicking CPR with light presses up and down: “Who’s the bad thing?”

Shang Shan pushed up with her hands and straightened: “You! Liar! Jerk!”

Mu Qian Tan raised a brow: “You’re alive.”

“Ya!” The girl could endure no more and opened her mouth to bite. The woman retreated lightly, her skirt hem and robe edges surging like sea waves. In the blink of an eye, she pulled several zhang away.

Her bite met empty air. Before the sound of her teeth clashing faded, the girl slapped the ground fiercely, flipped up, and crouched low with her whole body tense. Her black eyes darted rapidly, locking dead onto the woman’s figure. Seizing the moment, she shot out like an arrow.

This move was infallible in street fights, unbeatable by anyone. But as she closed in, the woman at her nose tip vanished like an illusion, leaving only a cold fragrance brushing past.

She grabbed a handful of dust and dirt, refusing to believe it. She rolled up her sleeves and pant legs and charged again. The person was clearly right there, yet always vanished abruptly upon approach, leaving only an afterimage in her grasp.

Under the bright moonlight generously spilling over the Narrow Sea, the two chased one after the other, darting like hare and crane amid the night.

The mountain woods rustled with leaves, the wind graceful and rhythmic. Cold light shimmered on the water, dreamlike and illusory.

After several rounds, a thin layer of sweat beaded on her forehead. Mu Qian Tan hated this body’s frailty once more. She channeled spiritual power from her toe to widen the distance, then flew to land on a treetop, looking down at her from above.

Shang Shan skidded to a halt under the tree, kicking up flying stones. Night wind tore leaves down like rain. Amid this leafy shower, she looked up stubbornly at the person in the tree.

Mu Qian Tan said: “Useless. Wasting my time.”

She brushed the long hair from her shoulder. Shang Shan said: “Come down!”

She panted heavily—not from exhaustion, but excitement. As if chasing prey had ignited her bloodlust, her eyes gleamed like a wolf’s under starlight, adding a feral edge to her delicate features.

Mu Qian Tan scoffed and flicked a bit of spiritual power from her finger, striking the girl’s forehead and sending her tumbling backward head over heels.

At the same time, she leaped down from the tree and landed gracefully: “Weak beyond imagination. I’d be ashamed to call you my disciple.”

This fall sobered Shang Shan. Running those steps had vented her pent-up frustration, so she no longer felt as awful as before.

She lay on the ground gasping for breath and grunted: “You’re the one who chased me to take me as a disciple, the one who teaches me nothing, and the one who despises me. What exactly do you want me to do?”

“What’s the rush? It’s not like you’re dying soon.” Mu Qian Tan walked to her head and looked down: “Pack your things. In three days, we’ll head to Prosperous Joy City to find your Wu Gan.” ( Wu Gan: “Five Senses” (Sight, Hearing, Smell, Taste, and Touch).

The cool voice fell from above like a basin of cold water poured over her head, but the content brought joy. Shang Shan craned her neck to look at her happily: “Are you finally going to teach me immortal techniques?”

Then she reacted: “Wu Gan? What does that mean?”

Mu Qian Tan nodded: “Get up and sit properly now.”

Shang Shan took a deep breath, lifted her legs high, planted her hands by her ears to support herself, arched her waist forcefully to leap up, then turned and sat cross-legged, looking up at her eagerly.

Mu Qian Tan said: “Watch.”

She stood motionless without gesturing, yet pale blue spiritual power gradually seeped from her body. Like jellyfish tentacles, or the clearest thin gauze, or the breathing and exhaling of all natural life, it enveloped her, surging like tides. It deepened and shallowed with her breath, as if alive.

This gentle release and guidance was worlds apart from the spiritual power shown in direct attacks. The girl, who had mixed in rural towns for years, had never seen such a spectacle and was instantly captivated, awestruck by the purest spiritual beauty.

Mu Qian Tan lifted her eyelids slightly: “To cultivate, you must first undergo Spirit Opening.”

Back when she returned to the sect from the border town during that idle time, she had learned some spiritual power cultivation methods from Li Biyuan. They weren’t advanced for beginners, but perfect for teaching the utterly clueless Shang Shan.

Before advancing the main storyline, she had to give the Female Protagonist some explanation of this cultivation world. Mu Qian Tan didn’t want to waste energy on her, but even if she planned to seize the Female Protagonist’s fortune, she couldn’t do it directly. Occasionally using such methods to placate and monitor Li Biyuan was necessary.

“Spirit Opening is Qi Aperture Opening. By current cultivation standards, the human body has twenty-three qi apertures: heart, eye, ear, mouth, nose, skin, shoulder, elbow, wrist, hand, abdomen, and so on—mostly at key sensory and movement joints. Qi is everywhere in nature, but you must awaken the qi apertures first to sense it.”

Mu Qian Tan raised her hand and condensed spiritual power into a blue epiphyllum flower that slowly bloomed in her palm: “Qi dissipates easily and can’t be used directly. After opening the qi apertures and absorbing qi, we convert and store it within the body as spiritual power in the qi apertures. This cycle repeated is cultivation.”

She closed her palm, crushing the epiphyllum flower. The spiritual power abruptly withdrew. The originally lit courtyard gradually dimmed, making the woman’s features appear even more aloof and indifferent.

“Did you understand?”

Shang Shan shook her head vigorously: “No.”

Mu Qian Tan said: “Doesn’t matter if you don’t. Just do as I say.”

Shang Shan said: “Can you explain it again?”

Mu Qian Tan said: “No. That’s it for today.”

“Hey?” Shang Shan stood up in a fog: “It’s over already? Too fast! I haven’t learned anything!”

The woman’s back receded into the distance until she vanished into the pitch-black hall. The doors boomed shut.

“What the…” Left alone in the courtyard, Shang Shan stood stunned for a while before shouting: “I just thought you were a good person, and you’re still a jerk!”

Three days later, outside Prosperous Joy City.

The city walls were built of black stone bricks, usually exuding impregnable majesty and solemn weight. But during special times, like the upcoming Prosperous Joy Music Banquet so important to the whole city, changes were made to match the festive mood.

The changes varied each year, and this one wrapped the walls in colorful cloth. Wind slipped through gaps beside it, billowing the cloth like sails with a flapping sound.

The weeds along the main road outside were cleared early. The traffic, several times heavier than usual, packed down the yellow earth. Dust kicked up by carriages was quickly pressed flat.

Roadside taverns for travelers to rest were packed. Those without seats stood outside with bowls, drinking the refreshing liquor amid the flapping wind before lining up to enter the city.

Night had fallen outside, but the city remained brightly lit with faint shouts of excitement drifting out, lively beyond measure. At a noodle stall outside, Shang Shan set down her empty bowl after the eleventh helping and raised her hand: “One more!”

Her action drew many eyes. Her striking appearance tempted people to chat her up, but the icy woman across from her deterred them.

Nearby, a man in a rooster-head costume slurped noodles from a bowl, staring at her fixedly. Mustering courage, he said: “Little miss, you’re quite the looker.”

Shang Shan waved him off: “Born this way!”

The boss, just finishing up, returned to the stove to wipe his hands with a towel. He grinned ear to ear: “At first, when you opened your mouth for ten bowls, I didn’t believe it. Who knew you’d finish them. Impressive.”

Shang Shan beamed smugly and spread her five fingers: “Five more wouldn’t be a problem!”

Mu Qian Tan set down her chopsticks and dabbed her lips with a folded square handkerchief: “Pay for it yourself.”

Shang Shan froze and whispered: “I have no money.”

Mu Qian Tan glanced at her: “Isn’t there a golden pill in your pocket?”

Shang Shan said: “That’s for eating too.”

Mu Qian Tan said: “I’ll pay for the noodles. Give me the golden pill.”

“No.” Shang Shan clutched her pocket and glared: “You’re too sly.”

Mu Qian Tan raised a brow, stood, took out the money pouch, left just enough for the noodles on the table, and turned to leave.

“Hey!”

The rooster-head man tried chatting again: “Little miss, is that your sister?”

Shang Shan spat: “Pah, I don’t have a sister like her.”

She fished out a chunk of golden pill from her pocket, painfully bit off a small piece to pay for the noodles, ignored whatever anyone said behind her, and hurried after: “Wait for me!”

They reached the city gate with the crowd. Officers were checking entrants for dangerous items. When it was their turn, Shang Shan clapped the Demon Ghost Mask over her face and laughed: “Is this outfit okay?”

Earlier at the noodle stall, she noticed almost everyone nearby had makeup on and wore fancy or odd clothes, which puzzled her.

Upon inquiry, they learned that the Lord of Prosperous Joy City, in order to make the citizens feel more involved and heighten the festive atmosphere of the Prosperous Joy Music Banquet, exchanged gold for paper coupons with those willing to dress up and match the mood. It wasn’t much, but it could be used directly within the city—equivalent to getting paid just for dressing up.

The officer saw her wearing the Evil Ghost Mask and beggar garb, so he said, “That counts.”

As he reached to hand her the paper coupon, the girl pointed at the woman beside her and said, “She dressed up too. Guess who she’s dressed as?”

Mu Qian Tan glanced down at her, her fingers itching again.

The officer clutched the paper coupon, not daring to pass quick judgment on this refined-looking woman. While he hesitated, Shang Shan said, “Can’t tell, huh? Actually, she dressed as the Big Flapping Moth! The most ferocious and vicious, the most cunning and insidious, the mos—ow!”

Mu Qian Tan twisted one of her ears and flashed the officer a cool smile before dragging her toward the city interior.

“Don’t! My ear’s gonna come off! Help!” Shang Shan yelled, but on the bustling main street of the city, amid the din of voices, even those nearby could barely make it out.

Mu Qian Tan said, “Are you childish or not?”

Shang Shan hugged her arm to stop her from yanking the ear. “The sect master clearly said that money was for both of us, but you hogged it all yourself. That’s too much!”

Mu Qian Tan said, “Do you think she gave us that money on whose account?”

Before they set out, Panxiang Yin had come to see her again after finishing her business. She gave patrol instructions, confirmed their route, and handed over another sum of money, saying it was travel expenses for master and disciple.

This brain-damaged dragon had been lost in daydreams at the time, fixated on going out to play and ignoring most of it—but she remembered that line crystal clear.

Shang Shan said, “No matter the reason for the money, she said it was for both of us. But you won’t even cover my meal!”

In order to shake off that hand, she groped around randomly and touched a noticeably rough spot. The woman’s body tensed up, then she let go in an instant and retreated two steps.

Shang Shan rubbed her ear, baffled why she’d released her. She noticed moisture on her fingertip and held it up—there were flecks of blood.

Mu Qian Tan adjusted the bandage on her hand, flipping the bloody side outward and covering it with the clean side. Her gaze grew a few degrees colder.

That bite wound wouldn’t heal without her aid—Shang Shan knew that better than anyone—so she said, “We’re even. You don’t touch me, and I won’t touch you.”

Mu Qian Tan shot her a glare but ignored her and kept walking toward the city center. It was getting late; they needed to find an inn and rest. No time to waste here.

With the matter dropped, Shang Shan breathed a sigh of relief and grew cocky again. From afar, she eyed this stall, fiddled with that one—everything tempted her, everything seemed novel. Too bad her pockets were empty; she could only look her fill.

As they walked, she spotted a stall selling mung bean cakes. On a sweltering day like this, those icy, silky pastries were the height of refreshment, so she sought out the moth once more to persuade her. “Those cakes are so good…”

Mu Qian Tan had just emerged from an inn. Too many people—most places were full, no vacancies. Brimming with impatience, this brain-damaged dragon sidled up again. She was about to snap when she suddenly spotted someone, her expression sharpening.

A hand braced with silver reached from the heated throng, carrying a crisp aura as it took the mung bean cake and paid. Its owner approached them: bright blue horse-face skirt, white shirt with crane embroidery, high ponytail, brows and eyes sharp as blades.

The girl came to Shang Shan’s side and placed the mung bean cake in her hand. Her voice was magnetic and coolly clear. “Let me treat my junior sister.”

“Huh?” Shang Shan asked. “Who are…”

The girl lifted her gaze to Mu Qian Tan, oceans of hatred surging in her eyes. “I’m the disciple of Feng Ling Immortal, the younger sister of Senior Sister Qin Shuang—Qin He.”