Chapter 23: No Fierce Tigers in the Mountains (Part 2): Bitten by a Dog Part 1

Hearing the Old Mother Hen’s voice, Shang Shan suddenly stiffened all over.

Mu Qian Tan could not push her away. Due to her lack of proficiency with the body, she found it difficult to gather spiritual power under the stimulation of pain. Her chest heaved violently, and the back of her head pressed into the fallen leaves. Her hand subconsciously loosened its grip, and the Red Satin crawled out from between her fingers, slipping into the ground like a red thread.

The teeth that had nearly embedded into her collarbone finally withdrew from the flesh, revealing threads of blood connecting them. Shang Shan’s half-face was smeared with fresh red as she lifted her head from the woman’s neck and looked toward the bushes nearby.

As the boiling hot blood gradually cooled, Shang Shan asked in a daze, “Are you alright?”

The Old Mother Hen flapped her wings. “Of course I’m alright. Don’t underestimate me. Although I can’t dig holes like the Weasel, killing snakes is still no pro—hey!” Her eyes widened, and her feet stabbed into the leaf layer. Her head tilted as she plunged in, pulling out the Red Satin that was trying to escape.

“Cluck cluck, what is this, cluck cluck!”

Only then did Shang Shan notice the thin snake when she saw it, realizing what she had just done to the person beneath her.

Just as she wanted to lower her head, there came a crisp smack. She was solidly slapped across the face, her ears ringing with a buzz. Her head was forced to twist away, and her neck twitched from the sudden motion.

“Get off.”

The voice, extremely close, held no warmth at all. It thoroughly sobered Shang Shan. She withdrew her hands and feet, sliding off in a heap and kneeling on the ground. She asked in panic, “Are you okay?”

That earlier pounce had disheveled the woman’s clothes. Her collar had been hooked by teeth and torn open, revealing glistening skin. It was originally fine jade-like quality, but now it was ruined by that nearly exposed bloody wound. Blood soaked through her collar, and even a few drops splattered on her chin.

In this state, anyone with eyes could see she was far from okay.

Shang Shan clutched at her hair. “This… I can make it better for you.”

Mu Qian Tan propped herself up on the ground and slowly sat up. Her complexion was extremely poor, and she said not a word, ignoring the inquiries. After sitting and catching her breath, she stood, picked up the Solitary Goose and the rusty sword, pushed aside the leaves, and walked toward the pile of weeds.

Her back was tall and slender, as if it could bend and snap easily. Shang Shan grabbed a handful of dirt to suppress her anxiety, then snatched the Red Satin from the Old Mother Hen’s beak and tied up her hair again. She crawled to her feet and followed.

Passing by the campfire, she saw that half a roast chicken was buried in the pile of ash from the firewood, half-wrapped in dry rations paper—the very culprit that had stirred her blood to boil earlier.

She grabbed the roast chicken, cradling it carefully in both hands, and followed the woman into the weeds. The sharp-edged leaves at the fringes sliced at her calves, but she felt nothing, only staring fixedly at the back ahead.

Finally, that back stopped. The woman did not turn around and simply said, “Scram.”

Shang Shan said, “Master, I think we need to talk…”

Mu Qian Tan said, “Can’t you understand human speech?”

Shang Shan looked down at the roast chicken cradled in her hands, gripping it tighter. She looked up again, her voice much smaller. “Those things you said—are they true or false? I really can’t tell.”

Mu Qian Tan tossed aside the rusty sword and turned to draw her bow on the girl. Just as she pulled back the bowstring with force, the wound began to ooze blood again.

Her lips paled, but the bowstring gradually tightened. An ice arrow dotted with flecks of red condensed between her two fingers on the string.

As the bowstring reached full draw, Shang Shan—who was aimed at—stood motionless. Her lower face was flushed red, but her eyes held an innocent sparkle flickering like stars.

Mu Qian Tan said, “You can catch rabbits, pheasants, the Weasel—so it gave you the illusion of power? Do you think that with just one hot-blooded rush, you can escape danger every time?”

Shang Shan shook her head. The bowstring tightened further as Mu Qian Tan continued, “You promised to help others, assuming I’d step in too? I’m still your nominal master right now—what right do you have to make a fuss with me?”

Shang Shan hurriedly said, “No, even if I passed by here alone and heard that request, I would have agreed.”

She took a small step forward. “Aside from biting you, I don’t think I did anything wrong. I didn’t expect you to step in either. I just wanted you to wait for me.”

Mu Qian Tan said, “Fine, I’ll wait for you. Feel free to go break the formation. But listen well—if you get into danger for not heeding me, I won’t save you. Handle it yourself. And…”

In the end, she released that arrow. Cold light tore through the air, piercing the roast chicken in Shang Shan’s hands and sending it tumbling to the ground with her, rolling several times and caking in dirt.

The Old Mother Hen had wanted to come check the situation and happened to see the half roast chicken pierced by the arrow. She immediately tucked her head into her wingpit, padded away on little feet, and ran. “Ouch, I can’t bear to watch this.”

Shang Shan wanted to pick up the roast chicken. Mu Qian Tan was already in front of her, looking down at her. “Stand still.”

So Shang Shan did not move.

Her face had been slapped earlier, smearing the blood into a five-finger print. Now it was swelling up. Mu Qian Tan picked up the Solitary Goose and patted the handprint with the flat curved tip of the bow.

“If I wanted to, that first arrow that hit your arm just now could have gone straight through your heart.”

With the force of the pat, Shang Shan tilted her face up to gaze at her and nodded vigorously. The hard ice that had frozen her arm earlier had already melted into water under the flow of hot blood, soaking her clothes.

“Impulsive, easily provoked, no method at all. If it were any other enemy standing here, you’d have died many times over.” The bow tip was also stained with blood now, and Mu Qian Tan’s tone grew even colder. “I went easy on you, and you don’t even know gratitude?”

“I know, it’s just…” Shang Shan reached out, trying to grab the Solitary Goose. “I went easy on you too. If bones break, it hurts a lot, and it takes a long time to heal, so I didn’t bite hard…”

Smack! Another sound, and the Solitary Goose left a whip-like red mark on the back of the girl’s hand.

Shang Shan withdrew her hand and gripped her wrist. Her eyebrows furrowed in an eight shape, her dark eyes nearly vanishing into her upper lids. She truly looked pitiable.

“Yeah, so this is me repaying the favor,” Mu Qian Tan leaned down slightly, tilting her head to whisper by the girl’s ear. “The fact that you’re still alive and standing here right now is my gratitude to you.”

As the last word slid from her earlobe into her ear, Shang Shan inexplicably felt goosebumps rise.

The scent of blood was right under her nose, mixed with the faint fragrance of the epiphyllum flower. She subconsciously licked her lips. Her mouth still held the lingering taste of blood, bursting with a strange flavor on her tongue tip. It almost instantly ignited her bottomless appetite.

Sensing her body heat rising again, she immediately retreated a step, escaping the cold cage of interwoven flower and blood scent.

Mu Qian Tan nodded her chin toward the girl behind her. “Scram.”

Shang Shan covered one ear and turned to flee.

Mu Qian Tan stood still, closed her eyes, and blue light emerged at the back of her neck. White feathers burst out layer upon layer from the light, transforming into a massive immortal crane that landed lightly.

The stabbing pain in her collarbone felt like it was splitting open. Even after just disciplining that person, it could not suppress the anger brought by the pain, so she wanted to take care of some other business while she was at it and clear out everything that displeased her.

White Pupil wanted to approach, but Mu Qian Tan said, “Don’t move yet.”

White Pupil tilted her head. Though puzzled, she obediently stayed in place. Mu Qian Tan took several steps back and drew her bow on her. Li Biyuan exclaimed in shock, ‘Fuck, Sister Tan, what are you doing?’

Mu Qian Tan parted her lips. “I know you can hear me, Yao’e Immortal. Although this is your body, you’ve already died. You don’t need it anymore, right? After I took over, I haven’t done anything bad or gained any real benefits. Why cling to that remnant obsession to torment me?”

The Black Hand rolled her eyes with a gurgle, but the heart showed no reaction. Mu Qian Tan continued, “Do you care about your little sister? Do you want to watch her die by my hand? I’ll count to three. You had better come out yourself. Three, two…”

When she reached two, the arrow flew from the string, stabbing into the dirt by White Pupil’s claw.

White Pupil startled and shrank back. She felt the chill and knew it was her big sister attacking, yet she did not dodge. Her all-white eyes blinked.

“It went off accidentally,” Mu Qian Tan closed her eyes, then opened them again, drawing another arrow. “But next time, it won’t miss. Three, two, one…”

The rusty sword tossed in the nearby weed pile suddenly burst with light. The rust peeled away like moss, revealing a gleaming blade. A ethereal female voice came from it. “Stop.”

Mu Qian Tan turned her head to look, put away the Solitary Goose, walked to the sword, and knelt on one knee before it. “So you’re hiding in this sword. You are Yao’e?”

The voice from the sword said, “Yes.”

Mu Qian Tan said, “How did you die?”

The female voice did not respond. Mu Qian Tan asked again, “Are you usually in the sword?”

The voice said, “Yes.”

Mu Qian Tan said, “Do you still have the power to take back this body?”

Her temper flared, so she spoke bluntly without beating around the bush. At the same time, she gripped the sword hilt with her hand, ready to surge spiritual power at any moment. If Yao’e showed the slightest sign of trouble, she would destroy the entire sword.

The voice said, “No, you need not worry.”

“Mm.” Mu Qian Tan withdrew her hand and pushed aside the weeds to look at the blade. “A while ago, whenever Qin Shuang was mentioned, my heart would ache intensely. Was that you causing it?”

“No.” The voice sank low. “The pain… perhaps it’s habit.”

It was probably that every time the previous owner thought of Qin Shuang, it triggered heart pain. Over time, it had formed a kind of muscle memory. Even if only an empty shell without a soul remained, it would still ache dully in some unknown corner.

Rust gradually crept back up from the sword tip, and the voice weakened. “I spend most of my time in slumber. I only wake when you call me. If you don’t believe me or feel uneasy, killing me is fine.”

“You’re a pitiful one too, and pose no threat to me, so I won’t kill you.” Mu Qian Tan flicked the sword tip with her fingertip, her eyes thoughtful as she chuckled. “But even though you died like this, no need to regret it. Even if nothing had gone wrong now, you’d have been doomed to die later. Everyone wants to become a god—that’s no sin—but you were unlucky, born to be suppressed. If you’d learned your situation, you could have fought back, but you died clueless…”

She rambled on, noticing the rust deepening and the gleam fading, as if it was about to fall back asleep.

The voice was silent for a long time before finally saying, “I… never wanted to become a god.”

Dark rust sealed the last rift, and the light extinguished like a candle in the wind. The weeds swayed, restoring silence.

Mu Qian Tan pressed her fingertip to the sword tip and injected spiritual power, but it dissipated along the blade, unable to be conveyed inside. Yao’e Immortal seemed to have entered dormancy; even spiritual power could not wake her.

She saw that she could only wait for her to recover her energy before conversing again next time.

Mu Qian Tan withdrew her hand and pressed her palm to the wound, quietly pondering.

She had originally planned to lure her out and eliminate her to avoid future troubles. But now, it seemed she was just a remnant soul residing in the rusty sword—harmless, unable to spy on her life. So whether to remove her or not no longer mattered.

Moreover, keeping her meant she could be called upon if needed later.

After all, whether in the book or her memories, this identity’s past was a blank slate. Yet that remnant soul might know what had truly happened. Keeping her as a memory reserve could not be more fitting.