Chapter 22: No Fierce Tigers in the Mountains (Part 1): A New Bite Mark on the Collarbone Part 1

As she had expected, Qin He’s finger-severing incident spread from the medical hall like a massive wave, reaching every corner of the sect. Mu Qian Tan’s already poor reputation gained another heavy stroke, but there was also good news: she truly didn’t have to continue with the classes anymore.

The teacher who loved oppressing students had her classes canceled—no need to guess how thrilled those kids would be. Though Mu Qian Tan felt this couldn’t possibly be blamed on her no matter how one looked at it, she was happy for the peace and quiet.

She learned from Shang Shan that Qin He’s finger had been fully healed with no issues left, so she stopped asking about it and focused on recuperating from her injuries for a while.

After resting in Azure Palace for about half a month, she saw that the next plot point was fast approaching. She had read through most of the original novel and had some idea of what to expect.

This plot’s location wasn’t too far away, and the task difficulty wasn’t high. On the contrary, the rewards were extremely plentiful. While unlocking her hands, she would also encounter the Male Protagonist. He possessed a Protagonist Halo that couldn’t compare to the Female Protagonist’s, but it wasn’t impossible to use either. However, replacing him wouldn’t be easy—it seemed she needed to devise a meticulous plan.

Before setting off, Mu Qian Tan first visited Small Mountain Hall to routinely inquire about the next patrol location for the Black Dragon. Though she ultimately wouldn’t go, she still had to put on a show on the surface to avoid suspicion.

After getting the answer, she was just about to leave when she was entrusted with a new task.

Riding on White Pupil’s back as it soared through the sea of clouds, Mu Qian Tan looked at the letter in her palm, feeling irritated.

She had originally planned to head straight to the next plot location after asking for the address, but who knew the arranged patrol point was in such a special position. On the way there, they would pass by a large mountain called Hibiscus Goose. Panxiang Yin said a Female Immortal was in seclusion there and asked Mu Qian Tan to deliver a letter while passing by.

The sect master hadn’t said who this Female Immortal was or revealed her identity. Apart from handing her the letter and mentioning the mountain’s name, there was no other information.

This was the first time she had received a task from the sect master unrelated to sect affairs, and judging by Panxiang Yin’s attitude, the letter’s recipient was probably someone important. Under these circumstances, Mu Qian Tan couldn’t find a reason to refuse.

She flipped the envelope over to look at the front. It was very plain, merely adorned with a crane pattern and wrapped in layers of secret arts to make it impervious to water and fire. From the side, it looked very thin—pinching it with two fingers revealed nothing but paper inside, so there probably wasn’t much content.

She wondered who was on Hibiscus Goose Mountain to have the sect master personally remember to send a letter. Could it be some powerful figure from the sect in the past who had grown tired of worldly life and gone into seclusion?

All guesses were meaningless before meeting her. Mu Qian Tan put away the letter and gazed into the distance, pondering her next steps.

She definitely had to deliver this letter. If it contained something urgent that didn’t get through, the consequences of any follow-up accountability would be dire. It might even expose that she hadn’t gone to the patrol location at all, which would be even harder to explain.

However, she certainly wouldn’t make an extra trip for it either. Since the sect master let her deliver it en route, she could handle other plot matters en route to delivering it.

Looking at the original novel’s content, aside from the plot she had planned to do on this trip, there was another plot point not far from Hibiscus Goose Mountain: subduing the informant Red Satin.

The book described Red Satin as a pig-nosed snake with a slender body, pitch-black eyes, scales red as vivid blood, and an old scar on its head resembling three plum blossom petals. It was venomous, starting weak but gradually strengthening after the Female Protagonist awakened her bloodline and fed it heavenly treasures, eventually becoming a venom king that served the Female Protagonist—one of the protagonist’s team.

But before that, its cunning and cold-blooded nature first gave it the identity of an informant.

Among the myriad great demons, what often played a decisive role in determining status wasn’t strength, but bloodline. The Dragon Clan was like this—as the pinnacle and rarest existence among demons—even unawakened, they naturally suppressed snake species, making them unable to even lift their heads in a dragon’s presence. Meanwhile, snakes were more sensitive to Dragon Blood than other demons.

Leveraging this, and spending day and night with the Female Protagonist, Red Satin recognized her as a Big Dragon and realized her master could be used. It informed her master of the Dragon Blood and Sacrifice matters, triggering the later blood sacrifice.

It did this not for wealth or power, but because of its malicious temperament—poison seeped into its nerves, delighting in seeing its former lord’s clansmen suffer hardship. Its later submission was due to being captivated by so-called protagonist charm; at its core, it was still a vile thing.

However, as the character who exposed the Female Protagonist’s identity, it should have been crucial, but the subduing process was extremely perfunctory.

Specifically, one day the Female Protagonist passed by a mountain and casually grabbed a tree branch, unwittingly bringing down Red Satin who had been coiled asleep on it. Upon returning and discovering the little snake was quite cute, she decided to keep it as a spiritual pet. That was the entire process.

No preamble, no aftermath—just grabbed it casually, so timing wasn’t an issue. Completing this subduing plot ahead of schedule would have no impact at all.

Since she had to pass by on the way to deliver the letter to Hibiscus Goose anyway, she might as well do it en route.

White Pupil broke through the clouds and descended, fierce winds rising abruptly. Beneath her feet stretched undulating deep green mountain ranges. Among them was an immortal mountain isolated from the world, called Sweet Spring, where Red Satin lived.

Mu Qian Tan lightly patted White Pupil’s back, signaling it to fly downward, finally landing in a spacious spot midway up the mountain.

After dismounting from White Pupil, she surveyed her surroundings. This was an exposed pitch-black boulder, surrounded by dense old trees, the wind rustling through the branches and leaves.

After flying in the sky for several days, she finally had solid ground underfoot. Shang Shan took a deep breath of the mountain’s spiritual energy and sighed contentedly, “It’s still most comfortable in the mountains…. Hoo—refreshing!”

After standing at the cliff edge for a while with her sleeves billowing full of wind, she remembered to ask, “Where are we going to find the hands?”

Mu Qian Tan stored White Pupil away. “Plans have changed. Let’s find a snake first.”

Shang Shan wasn’t the impatient type to begin with—compared to cultivation, wandering around suited her taste more—so she naturally had no objections and asked a string of questions in a row. “A snake? What does it look like? Where does it live? How do we find it?”

The book’s description of the matter was too simple, making it hard to replicate. She didn’t know which tree the Female Protagonist had grabbed it from, but she couldn’t just tell her to reach out and grab around. Mu Qian Tan said, “A red little snake. Don’t know where. Look everywhere.”

A narrow winding path twisted through dense tree roots into the distance, thick layers of fallen leaves accumulated like a carpet underfoot. Heat rose from the soil below, large leaves cupping sunlight and casting mottled tree shadows.

Mu Qian Tan walked forward along the path, paying attention to movements in the trees. Shang Shan plucked a flexible tree branch, stripped off the leaves, and followed while using it to beat the surrounding bushes.

They proceeded like this for about half a shichen—roughly an hour—without even seeing a rope. It was the hottest time of the day, so Mu Qian Tan took down the gourd from her waist, took a sip of water, and rested under a tree.

Looking at this forest, she always felt something was off.

Shang Shan came over too, picked up her own gourd and shook it—no water sound—then put it down and looked up. “My water’s gone. I want some of yours.”

Mu Qian Tan capped the gourd. “No.”

Shang Shan said, “Why not?”

Mu Qian Tan said, “I find you disgusting.”

Her fingers threaded through the red cord tied to the gourd’s mouth, spinning it until it whirled. Shang Shan muttered, “I don’t even find you disgusting…”

Mu Qian Tan tucked the gourd back at her waist and looked up at the sky, trying to pinpoint where that off feeling came from.

The sun’s edges shimmered with halos, verdant green dotted the edges of her vision. This was an ordinary summer scene visible anywhere, yet it made her feel like something was missing.

Comparing it to many summer afternoons in her memory, she realized what was missing.

Sound.

Deep in a dense forest, cicadas and birds usually chirped one after another with great penetrating power, audible throughout the woods. At the very least, there should be the rustling of animals darting through low bushes. But now, only the lifeless friction of leaves could be heard—a tranquility that didn’t match the forest at all.

Mu Qian Tan straightened slightly, a faint Snowflake Mark appearing on her brow before fading seconds later.

She released Spiritual Power to probe this small patch of woods. There were no latent dangers; it seemed as peaceful as the surface. At the same time, there truly were no signs of life, which was highly problematic.

In a forest undisturbed by external forces and blessed with excellent natural conditions, how could walking half a day yield not a single animal?

Mu Qian Tan’s intuition told her this was another troublesome matter. She couldn’t delve too deeply and had to resolve it quickly. Wiping water from her lips with a fingertip, she said, “You often grab tree branches casually. See what you can grab.”

Shang Shan was baffled. “Grab… tree branches, duh…”

Mu Qian Tan continued forward. “We’ll pass through the very center of this forest. Keep an eye on your surroundings at all times and grab more things.”

“Huh?” Shang Shan was utterly confused, but asking got no reply, so she had to follow instructions.

And so, the two stayed in the forest for three days. They found all sorts of strange things and nearly stripped a few trees bald, but still no sign of that little snake.

Night fell once more. Mu Qian Tan’s brows furrowed slightly as she asked, “What’s going on? Didn’t it say we’d encounter it just by grabbing casually?”

Li Biyuan said, “Mm… maybe the timing’s off?”

Though this plot had no special requirements and seemed easy to execute, it actually depended greatly on perfect timing, terrain, and harmony. If the time hadn’t come, they might search the entire mountain and still find no trace.

She had thought there wouldn’t be much difficulty, but three days had passed with nothing to show, and no end in sight. Mu Qian Tan was unwilling to give up just like this, but staying longer risked delaying the main storyline.

She pondered with furrowed brows for a moment before saying, “There’s another way. Catch some local demons and ask around. If Red Satin won’t come out, we’ll drag it out.”

Li Biyuan said, “…Mm, Sister Tan, very heroic.”

Mu Qian Tan ignored her and mulled over how to catch demons.

These past few days shuttling back and forth in the dense forest were different from the initial emptiness—she had actually seen some small animals, just far fewer in number.

However, since they existed, on this spiritually rich immortal mountain, some should have developed sentience and could speak human tongue. Asking local demons would naturally be most effective.

But since they had sentience, catching them would take effort. They were familiar with the terrain and nimble and sly, often vanishing the instant they sensed unfamiliar auras approaching. Neither she nor her disciple were professional forest hunters; in unfamiliar territory, the odds of catching them head-on were slim.

Mu Qian Tan said, “Use the search engine to look up how to make small animal traps.”

The clacking of mechanical keys sounded as Li Biyuan voluntarily acted as a human engine. “Got it.”