Chapter 34: Civil and Martial Trials (Part 1): Beaten by Your Master Again

Mu Qian Tan shrugged her shoulders slightly and touched the edge of the wound. When she pressed down, it was no longer stiff or numb. The surface seemed covered by a thin membrane that kept it from contact with the air, and it no longer bled.

When she moved, there was only a slight pulling sensation, and drawing her bow felt easier and more effortless. Compared to the bone-cracking agony from before, this was far too comfortable.

When she had treated the bite mark on her hand earlier, she had been unconscious and felt nothing. Now, experiencing it firsthand, she finally understood just how powerful Shang Shan’s unique ability was.

She pulled her collar back into place and bathed in the morning light streaming in from the window, murmuring, “Idiot.”

She had this ability but didn’t know how to use it. What a fool!

If it were her, forget cultivation for now—just talking about making money—she would go straight to those unscrupulous rich merchants, bite them until they wailed and begged, hand over their family fortunes, and then make off scot-free. Wouldn’t she get rich instantly?

That Brain-Damaged Dragon had no idea what a goldmine she was holding. She foolishly caught rats every day just to earn a pittance. At fifteen years old, she was still wandering around a small village. Anyone with ambition would have gone to the capital to settle down long ago.

Mu Qian Tan shifted to the edge of the bed and swung her legs down. She lowered her head, gathered her ink-black hair with one hand from behind her head, leaving most of it loose and securing the rest with the Bu Yao.

Then, she got up and took down her inner robe. It had been drying on the rack for most of the night and was already dry, emanating a rich floral fragrance as if soaked in the scents of Flower Valley.

She put on the clothes, tied her sash, slung her weapon over her back, and pushed the door open to step outside. Something immediately leaped up and rubbed against her feet. She turned to look—it was Shang Shan.

The girl must not have slept a wink all night; dark circles hung under her eyes. She stammered as soon as she opened her mouth, “Y-y-you, you….”

Mu Qian Tan didn’t know what madness had seized her. She shot her a sideways glance and turned to walk outside.

Shang Shan finally managed to spit out her words. “You’re up? How do you feel?”

Mu Qian Tan said, “Not great.”

Shang Shan hurried to catch up. “Impossible! You don’t feel anything at all? At least a bit more comfortable, right?”

Mu Qian Tan ignored the chatter behind her and walked into the flower-lined path under the sunlight. Her field of vision brightened considerably.

Though staying here was quiet and comfortable, it was still someone else’s home. Her body had mostly recovered, and the messenger task was complete. There was no need to linger; it was more convenient to go back.

She stopped in front of a flowerbed and searched for the Female Immortal. Skimming over several fields of flowers, she finally spotted that figure in white amid a sparse flower patch.

Mud stained the hem of her skirt, which would be hard to wash on the road. Mu Qian Tan lifted her skirt a bit and walked slowly to the flower field, finding a path to enter. She saw the Female Immortal tending to four clusters of flowers.

The patch in front of her was enclosed by a bamboo fence, about two zhang across. Just from the color of the soil, one could tell it was fertile land. Yet much of it lay empty, with only four clusters planted at intervals, each distinct in red and white, large and small.

Mu Qian Tan drew closer and saw small wooden plaques inserted before each cluster of the four flowers, labeled respectively: Platycodon, Peony, Qilin Flower, Hui Orchid.

The other flowers grew wild, but these four were personally tended by the Female Immortal. Aside from being larger and more vibrant in color, what made them special?

As she pondered, the Qilin Flower unfurled its massive petals, leaned back, and sprayed a stream of sweet liquid from its stamen straight toward Mu Qian Tan.

Fortunately, she had been watching the flowers closely. Sensing something off, she dodged immediately and avoided being hit by the sweet liquid. Still, she was slightly surprised and halted her steps.

The Female Immortal also noticed the flower acting up. She first set down her small shovel to soothe the Qilin Flower, then turned to look. “No worries. They just thought you were going to attack me.”

Mu Qian Tan’s gaze swept over the other three flowers and noticed they were all facing her. There was no wind in the valley, yet they trembled faintly, as if sizing up this uninvited guest.

The Female Immortal pushed herself up by her knees and rubbed her waist. “What’s wrong?”

There was nothing normal in this Flowers in the Mist valley. Mu Qian Tan ignored the flowers and got straight to the point. “Thank you for your hospitality yesterday. I plan to head back.”

The Female Immortal neither tried to keep her nor stood on ceremony. She simply nodded. “Alright.”

With fewer tedious social obligations, this way of interacting was refreshing. Mu Qian Tan breathed a sigh of relief and said softly, “Farewell.”

A basket of flowers happened to sit on the ground by her feet, as if prepared in advance. The Female Immortal picked it up and handed it to her. “Eat it on the road.”

Eat… flowers on the road?

“…” Mu Qian Tan said, “Alright, thank you.”

She took the flower basket. Footsteps sounded from far behind. Mu Qian Tan turned and saw the farmer who had brought her in appear at the end of the flowerbed. He shouldered his hoe, whistling a little tune as he sauntered over. “Leaving?”

Mu Qian Tan said, “Mm.”

Following the farmer out of the thick fog once more, endless serene green mountains stretched before her eyes. Looking back, the fog, flower fields, and farmer had all vanished. The fragrance lingered in the basket, and beside it hung a Red Talisman inscribed in gold ink with words for safe travels.

On the way back to the sect atop White Pupil, Mu Qian Tan passed through the clouds. Cold winds whipped past her ears, drawing away the lingering warmth of the morning sun. Unable to hold back, she recalled last night’s dream.

She had finally bathed with cold water, leaving only a thin ring of soap. The power didn’t come back until eight at night. The girl ran around the house naked, saying it was to generate heat through exercise. After several laps, she finally warmed up, put on her clothes, and dragged her out to play.

Mu Qian Tan didn’t understand why she was so tough. Before eighteen, she had only tried a cold bath once on a brutally hot summer day, in secret. She fell ill with a fever that day and spent days tossing and turning in misery before recovering.

But she soon realized that this girl, who had grown up scrambling in garbage heaps—this nominal little sister—was far tougher than her in every way.

Even dunked in a cold basin in the dead of winter, she only sneezed a few times and that was it. When a neighbor smashed an ashtray on her head, she still had the strength to yell loud enough to annoy everyone around and get them to help.

She always had an unusually vigorous life force, an unyielding spirit that never gave up—like a spring, bouncing higher the more it was compressed. A child like that, no matter how poor her start, would never have a truly miserable future.

After this year, her little sister would pass the eighteen-year milestone too. With so much future ahead, no more squeezing into a tiny basin for cold baths, no more going hungry or cold, and even going to school—life would only get better.

If she could completely forget about her big sister, it would be even more perfect.

A faint fragrance wafted over. Mu Qian Tan’s vision coalesced into the image of that old house, which shattered along with the scent.

She traced the source of the aroma. Shang Shan had taken a flower from the basket and eaten it. She held two more in her hands, flower juice staining her lips. Seeing Mu Qian Tan look over, she asked, “Want some?”

Mu Qian Tan said nothing and looked ahead again.

Shang Shan said, “It’s delicious, sweet.”

The woman remained still. Guessing she probably wouldn’t eat such strangely shaped food, Shang Shan finished the flowers herself, wiped her mouth, lay back, and twirled the Red Talisman around her finger.

When red clouds dyed the horizon, Shang Shan felt the time was about right. She suddenly flipped over, wriggled behind the woman, and mumbled, “It should be… time for the next one.”

Mu Qian Tan said, “What.”

Shang Shan said, “Next time, your wound needs treating.”

“…..” Mu Qian Tan turned back stiffly. “What do you mean?”

Her voice was thin as an icy thread, cutting to the bone—her gaze probably wasn’t friendly either. Shang Shan had anticipated it and buried her face deep in the fluffy feathers, so she wouldn’t have to see that face overhead.

Unexpectedly, even without seeing her, instinctual fear surged. She wanted to explain that the wound needed multiple licks to heal fully, but the words slipped away at her lips. “You don’t like others touching you?”

Mu Qian Tan snorted coldly. “Do you like being licked by a dog?”

“Wait…” Shang Shan turned her face sideways, peeking up with one eye. “I’m not a dog.”

Mu Qian Tan said, “Close enough.”

Shang Shan flew into a rage. “How is it close enough!”

She jumped up, shoved her face in front of the woman, and forced her to look. “Look at me! My hands, my feet, my face—I’m human!”

Mu Qian Tan glanced at her. Seeing the girl’s face flushed with anger, as if about to explode, she asked, “You were burning up close to death yesterday, and you’re fine today?”

The topic shift was abrupt. Shang Shan blinked, scratched at the fabric on her belly. “Seems like it.”

She rubbed the back of her neck. “But that hit you gave me still hurts! You went so heavy on me. I thought you didn’t want me to wake up, or planned to sell me off.”

Mu Qian Tan said, “I don’t need that kind of money.”

Shang Shan paused, then fumed, “That kind of money? I’m expensive, you know! You haven’t even tried selling me before saying I’m cheap. You’re so mean!”

She spun in place, jumping up and down, grinding her teeth. Mu Qian Tan replied flatly, “You have a body of steel and iron. Without some force, how could I knock you out?”

Shang Shan skidded to a halt and grinned sinisterly. “Ha, you admit it. It was you who hit me.”

With her innocently honest face, even a villain’s expression looked merely cute, with no intimidation. Mu Qian Tan raised a brow. “And?”

“Me!” Shang Shan lunged up, clenched her fists, jutted her chin, and stared hard at the woman’s cool features. Moments later, she blurted, “Fight! Right now—a duel at White Crane Peak!”

Mu Qian Tan dragged the topic back. “Raising you is worse than raising a dog.”

Shang Shan vehemently disagreed. “Impossible! Nonsense!”

She sat cross-legged, counted on her fingers. “I can help with chores, earn money, talk to you. Dogs can’t talk—they just go woof woof woof. I can read, read your letters for you. Dogs are illiterate, dumb as rocks, dumber than me.”

Mu Qian Tan said, “Dogs eat less.”

Shang Shan took a heavy blow. Was her master complaining she ate too much?

It was true—feeding her wasn’t cheap. She always drew ghostly stares at the sect cafeteria. But everyone said a big appetite was a blessing. It couldn’t be a bad thing, right…

She mulled it over for a while, her thoughts drifting from eating to mouths and tongues. Realizing she’d veered off, she huffed, “Flapping Moth! Don’t distract me. I just want to help treat you. Why are you always…”

Her words were shoved back by the icy gaze. Her voice weakened. “Why are you always so prickly.”

Seeing her expression seemed genuine, Mu Qian Tan frowned. “Wasn’t it healed after just once before?”

“It’s not healed after one lick, it’s…” Shang Shan’s bravado completely deflated, her gaze evasive. “It’s licking until it’s healed.”

Mu Qian Tan’s hands clenched on her knees.

Lick. Until. Healed.

On the way back from Prosperous Joy Workshop, she had dozed off in the vehicle. The next morning, she woke to find no trace of the wound on her hand and immediately guessed it was this Brain-Damaged Dragon’s doing. But she had only guessed she might have licked it once or twice, at most.

Now she understood. For the wound to heal that fast, it required continuous licking.

“Wait…” The woman’s face grew icier. Shang Shan keenly sensed disaster approaching and retreated swiftly.

But they were high in the sky on the crane’s back, nowhere to hide. She could only shout, “I was wrong!!”

Atop Mo Jing Peak, amid the sea of clouds.

Mu Qian Tan dragged her into Small Mountain Hall. The little immortal child saw the beggar-clothed girl half-dead again and was used to it by now. He merely said the sect master wasn’t in the hall at the moment and they needed to wait a bit.

“Mm.” Mu Qian Tan acknowledged it, went to that small courtyard, sat cross-legged in the room, and waited.

She finally released her grip. Shang Shan collapsed bonelessly. It took her a good while to lift her head, revealing panda-like black circles under her eyes. “Sect master isn’t here?”

Mu Qian Tan snapped irritably, “Can’t you see for yourself?”

Shang Shan shrank back, pushed herself up from the ground, looked around, and saw the room truly empty. Knowing they’d wait a while, she whispered, “I-I’m going out to wait. I’ll go look at that Fat Fish!”

Without waiting for a response, she bolted like grease on her soles.

Staying longer, if she annoyed her, she’d get beaten again. Shang Shan wisely left the scene, strolled the courtyard to enjoy the view, and checked if the fish in the pond had gotten fatter.

Squatting by the pool, she cupped her cheeks and searched through the floating leaves for that big Fat Fish. A smile just tugged at her brows when it fell away.

She formed a circle with thumb and forefinger, gauging the fish’s girth through the water. After pondering, Shang Shan was shocked to discover the fish was actually a circle skinnier than before.

Had the sect master not fed it?!

Shang Shan paled in alarm and wanted to ask, but remembered she hadn’t returned yet. She hunkered down again.

Afraid that she had misunderstood, she parted the floating duckweed again and reached out to measure it with her hand. But this action startled more living creatures in the pond, and a large school of them swam away with a splash.

She looked closely and saw that they were actually tiny fish fry, no bigger than a pinky fingernail, extremely similar in appearance to the Giant Fish.

In other words, the Fat Fish hadn’t starved and grown thin. She had simply been that fat to begin with. Her body had swelled enormously simply because she was pregnant. Now that she had given birth, she had naturally slimmed down.

She hadn’t expected that her casual grab back then had caught a pregnant mother fish. Fortunately, both mother and children were safe now; otherwise, her sin would have been great. She quickly clasped her hands together and shook them in front of her chest. “That’s great. Thank you for the blessing.”

“Do you believe in gods?”

A voice suddenly came from beside her. Shang Shan was startled and nearly plunged headfirst into the pond, but she steadied herself. She opened her eyes and looked. “Sect Master? You’ve come.”

Standing behind her was none other than Panxiang Yin. She still had that steady and composed demeanor from their first meeting, with moth-like brows and pearly teeth. The fine lines at the corners of her eyes did not diminish her beauty; instead, they added to her charm. In her palm, she held a Jade Balance that swayed slightly. Two little immortal attendants followed behind her, each cradling scrolls and bamboo slips.

Recalling the earlier question, Shang Shan replied, “I don’t believe in gods. I’m thanking my mother.”

Panxiang Yin slightly narrowed her eyes. “I see.”

This seemingly casual question actually had a reason behind it.

If one were to ask the ultimate goal of all cultivators, it would undoubtedly be to become gods. Whether it was strengthening the body, prolonging life, or other benefits, those were merely side effects gained along the cultivation path.

From the moment the world’s first strand of spiritual energy merged with the human body, the word “ascension” had been etched into the bloodline of every cultivator. This was an indisputable fact. To hold the sun and moon in their palms, to stand against heaven and earth, to have one’s prestige echo through the ages—these were temptations no one could refuse.

Yet all who began cultivating would gradually come to recognize a harsh reality: cultivation was not easy. They might think they had embarked on the path to godhood, but in truth, it was a path of awakening. Everyone would eventually realize that the gulf was impossible to cross. From the appearance of the first cultivator to the present day, no one had truly ascended to become a god in the full sense.

However, the absence of gods did not mean the absence of faith. On the contrary, people created gods according to their faiths.

Sects, clans, or nations would always shape heroic figures into deities to guide the populace’s behavior. These were known as “posthumous gods.” Those who favored demonic beasts would revere beast gods and worship “demon gods.” Even the common folk far removed from cultivation had their own “folk gods” they believed in.

Thus, there were no gods in the world, yet gods were everywhere.

Some sects restricted their disciples’ faiths for ease of management, but Tianyu Sect had no such hard rules. Disciples were free to believe in whatever gods or immortals they wished.

Panxiang Yin had asked this upon seeing her clasp her hands in prayer, simply to inquire. After all, different gods represented different faiths—some emphasized kindness, others benevolence or heroism—and this could somewhat reveal the aspirations of the believer.

Seeing that her mother was likely no longer around, and not wanting to touch on a sore spot, Panxiang Yin did not probe further. She simply said, “Eh… that eye of yours. Beaten by your master again?”