Chapter 36: Civil and Martial Trials (Part 3): Gotta Find a Way to Snatch It Part 1

Not long after she walked out, the person behind caught up, and she heard the girl shouting, “Wait for me!”

Mu Qian Tan pretended not to hear and kept walking straight out of Small Mountain Hall. She looked up and saw it was still early outside, so she could go out for a bit and come back.

Shang Shan braked behind her and asked repeatedly, “Master, Master! Are we really taking the exam?”

The woman ignored her, so she circled to the other side and asked again, “Why didn’t you tell me? The sect master said it seems pretty important.”

Mu Qian Tan finally spoke, “It’s not me taking the exam.”

Shang Shan said, “Oh… but I’m your disciple. Everyone knows that Shang Shan is Mu Qian Tan’s disciple. If I fail or get a bad score, won’t you feel embarrassed?”

Mu Qian Tan said, “I don’t see people anyway. What’s there to be embarrassed about?”

Her reputation had long been ruined to the point where there was hardly any white left. This was nothing. Besides, she stayed cooped up in Narrow Sea year-round, oblivious to worldly affairs. No one saw her, so as long as no one foolishly cursed her to her face, she didn’t care.

Shang Shan looked conflicted. “Narrow Sea really doesn’t have anyone else… Huh? Are we heading back now?”

She saw the woman reach an open area, summon White Pupil, and prepare to leave. Shang Shan grew a bit anxious and hurried forward, lightly grabbing a few tufts of White Pupil’s feathers. “I want to go see Qin He and check on her hand. Are you going?”

Mu Qian Tan said, “No.”

Shang Shan said, “Then I’ll go.”

Mu Qian Tan said, “Go ahead. Who’s stopping you?”

Shang Shan asked, “Will you pick me up tonight?”

Mu Qian Tan said, “In your dreams?”

Shang Shan said, “Then I’ll wait for you at the dining hall. Even if you don’t pick me up, you’ll definitely have to eat.”

Mu Qian Tan said nothing and infused Spiritual Power into White Pupil. The immortal crane spread its wings and flew upward, gradually shrinking into a black dot that vanished into the horizon.

Shang Shan watched her back until it completely disappeared, pouted, and headed toward Cliff Mountain where Qin He lived.

Flying high in the sky, cooled by the wind, Mu Qian Tan’s bad mood eased somewhat. Only then did she realize who Shang Shan was going to see.

By all rights, she should go check on Qin He’s injury recovery, since this disciple’s wound was partly her fault. But thinking of the child’s resistant attitude made her head ache, so she decided against it.

After flying for a while, she had put some distance between them and wouldn’t run into that Brain-Damaged Dragon. Mu Qian Tan found an empty spot to land. A little immortal child was patrolling nearby, so she asked him about the Scripture Pavilion’s location.

Ever since Sweet Spring Mountain, she had realized how lacking her understanding of this world was. Even with the original novel, she didn’t know the daily details not described in the book, lacking relevant experience.

Moreover, she couldn’t fully utilize her abilities. Though her combat experience was accumulating, there were still large gaps in efficiently using Spiritual Power, maintaining different weapons, maximizing the Power Gathering Gold Ring while minimizing side effects, and conditioning her body with Spiritual Power.

It was like living in the modern world but not knowing how to pay with a phone, make calls, ride transport, or shop—extremely inconvenient.

Mu Qian Tan disliked being passive, so she needed to supplement some foundational knowledge.

The Scripture Pavilion was called Cloudtop Academy, built almost atop the clouds as its name suggested. It had a similar style to a school, with several large scrolls hanging in the air outside, swaying in the wind, ethereal and illusory. Many disciples came and went, gathering in groups of twos and threes, debating animatedly.

Mu Qian Tan walked toward the gate. Midway, disciples spotted her, and their chatter immediately quieted, afraid to attract her attention. Yet they curiously sized her up, wondering why this great Buddha had appeared at the Scripture Pavilion.

She walked inside, entering what felt like a new world. The hall was spacious and bright, spotlessly clean. The scent of ink hit her first, immersing her in a thick scholarly atmosphere.

A few more steps revealed rows of bookshelves reaching the ceiling, categorized and filled to the brim—a vast collection as numerous as a sea of smoke.

She showed her identity to the Little Immortal guarding the door. When asked what books she needed, Mu Qian Tan said, “I recently took in a new disciple who’s incredibly dumb. I’m looking for some basic books to help her catch up—simple ones are best.”

Borrowing ordinary books with her status would raise suspicion, but saying it was for her disciple made it instantly reasonable.

The Little Immortal showed a look of sudden realization and led her inside, asking her to wait while he sorted the book list for her.

Mu Qian Tan nodded. “Thanks for the trouble.”

The Little Immortal respectfully withdrew. Mu Qian Tan browsed a nearby bookshelf area. Instantly, the surroundings cleared around her like a circle. She didn’t mind and scanned the rows of book spines to pass the time.

With everyone gone, it was so quiet not even page-turning sounds could be heard. Listening to her own footsteps, she leisurely wandered a few rows. Suddenly, she spotted a book titled Cultivation: From Entry to Giving Up.

The title was eye-catching. Mu Qian Tan reached to take it down and see what wondrous content it held. Just as her fingertip touched the spine, white mist suddenly sprayed from the gaps between the books, enveloping her in an instant.

The mist didn’t smell pungent; instead, it carried a faint plant fragrance, not hostile. Mu Qian Tan didn’t circulate Spiritual Power, just withdrew her hand and waved it in front of her to disperse the fog.

“Beauty, want a fortune reading?”

An unserious female voice came from the other side of the bookshelf, slippery and smooth in her ears. Mu Qian Tan looked up through the gaps between books and shelves, seeing half a face. Skin white as paper, but lips dark and full, glossy, with pearly teeth biting a pipe, tongue tip faintly visible.

She couldn’t see the eyes, but could imagine crescent moons brimming with watery light. Strands of alcohol mixed with tobacco smoke wafted over, pulling one into a dream.

“This is the Scripture Pavilion,” Mu Qian Tan said as she took down the book anyway. She lowered her head. “Smoking and drinking—you’re not afraid of being kicked out?”

The woman chuckled and asked, “What are you doing?”

Mu Qian Tan said, “Waiting for books.”

The pipe stretched over, wrapped in translucent jade, verdant and dewy. It lifted the book in her hand slightly as the woman murmured, “Cultivation basics? You still need to read this stuff?”

Mu Qian Tan noted the hand holding the pipe—slender fingers distinct and beautiful, but pale without blood color, hard to tell if human or ghost.

With a snap, she closed the book, not wanting to waste words, and turned to leave. Then the woman suddenly called, “Yao’e Immortal.”

So she knew her. Mu Qian Tan slightly turned her gaze. “What is it?”

The woman tilted her head with a faint smile. “Last time at the Assembly Council, I greeted you—why did you ignore me?”

She must mean the recent Assembly Council discussing the Black Dragon Prophecy. The hall had been too crowded; Mu Qian Tan got dizzy upon entering and only noted a few key figures, naturally not noticing who this was. She said, “Sorry, I’ll pay attention next time.”

Taking a puff, the woman twirled a lock of hair. “Forget it. But I was wondering why you haven’t come to see me lately.”

Another strange woman who knew the Original Host—Mu Qian Tan wasn’t sure how they usually interacted, so she cautiously said, “The sect master assigned me a task. No time lately.”

The woman said, “Ha, then how do you have time for the Scripture Pavilion today? Looking at books only beginner disciples read.”

Mu Qian Tan said, “Finding books for my disciple.”

The woman smiled. “For your disciple? Personally handling even this—such a good master.”

Mu Qian Tan said, “…Just a small thing.”

She couldn’t quite tell from the words, but felt the woman was being passive-aggressive. Was this her nature, or had the Original Host not gotten along well with her before?

Either way, Mu Qian Tan didn’t want to continue talking and stepped out from the bookshelf.

“Are you still having nightmares?”

Her footsteps halted again. Mu Qian Tan looked over. “Occasionally.”

Could she confide nightmares in her? Maybe a friend?

The woman bit her pipe, voice sticky. “What do you dream about?”

For someone of unknown identity who might discern she wasn’t the original, Mu Qian Tan felt irritated but had to respond carefully. “The same ones.”

Slowly exhaling smoke, the woman said, “Demonic Creatures?”

Demonic Creatures?

So her previous nightmares involved demons?

Mu Qian Tan said, “Mm.”

Looking now, she noticed the woman’s earrings—two miniature fortune sticks. One Upper Upper Fortune, one Lower Lower Misfortune, swaying in the mist with her exhales.

She smoked silently for a while, filling the area with smoke, then drawled, “You can’t let go, so you keep dreaming of it. But who could?”

Mu Qian Tan didn’t know what this meant and stayed silent.

“Why do so many people live in the past? Truly baffling.” The woman blew a smoke ring that floated lazily toward her. She laughed. “You always sought advice, but never listened—I could only repeat myself. Now you don’t ask, but I have one piece of sincere advice….”

Her tone shifted, resounding. “Don’t covet what doesn’t belong to you, or what you summon might not be fortune, but calamity.”

“Fortune fades easily; calamity clings.”

With that, the mist thickened suddenly, her figure blending into it, about to vanish.

Mu Qian Tan hated such words most. She dropped the calm facade, reached through the bookshelf, dispersed the mist, and precisely grabbed the woman’s collar, yanking her over.