Chapter 36: Civil and Martial Trials (Part 3): Gotta Find a Way to Snatch It Part 2

The woman’s lips parted slightly as her body slammed into the bookshelf, nearly knocking books off. Mu Qian Tan stared at her pointed chin and said coldly, “Curse me and run? Who are you pretending to be, some worldly hermit?”

The woman seemed surprised. Moments later, a smile bloomed on her lips. “As expected.”

The smoke vanished abruptly. The Little Immortal came around from behind the bookshelf. “Immortal, I’ve found….”

His words cut off as he noticed who was there. He charged angrily. “How did you get in again?”

He rushed to the other side of the bookshelf, grabbed the woman, and barked, “Get out.”

Mu Qian Tan released her hand. The woman no longer had that eerie, mysterious look—instead, she was a greasy-faced, booze-stinking middle-aged woman, disheveled and laughing maniacally as the Little Immortal dragged her out.

After ejecting her, the Little Immortal returned and handed over the books. “Truly sorry she disturbed you.”

Mu Qian Tan took the books, glanced at the door, and asked, “Who is that?”

The Little Immortal said, “Just a lunatic. Nothing more.”

Her words hadn’t sounded mad at all. Sneaking in silently and changing appearance in a blink—she had some skills.

Mu Qian Tan was suspicious but asked, “If she’s a lunatic, why not lock her up?”

The Little Immortal said, “She’s elusive, hard to catch. And though crazy, she hasn’t done real harm, so we let her be.”

This person clearly knew the Original Host—perhaps they’d had deep talks, or the Original Host’s taciturn nature wouldn’t let dream details be known.

But what was her purpose this time? Testing her identity?

Whatever. Deal with soldiers when they come, block water with earth when it floods. Whoever she was and whatever she wanted, if she approached again, she wouldn’t escape so easily.

Mu Qian Tan took the books and left. It was too early for dinner, so she found a secluded grove, pulled out the books the Little Immortal had gathered, and flipped through them.

The titles on the covers were indeed basic reads, probably not too hard. But after two pages, she discovered a problem.

Even the most elementary books used overly classical phrasing with obscure sentences she could barely understand.

Back when she could still attend school, her grades were excellent, often praised by teachers for her quick mind. She’d never had the experience of staring at a book with a blank mind.

Mu Qian Tan lightly brushed the stray hairs from her forehead, incredulous. She switched books and tried again, frustration mounting until she tossed it aside in depression.

This was harder than imagined.

Sitting on a large rock blowing in the wind for a while, Mu Qian Tan comforted herself it was fine—the toughest books could be gnawed through slowly. Besides, she didn’t need to take exams; take it slow, no pressure.

With that thought, her mood lightened. She picked up the book again and had Li Biyuan help check ancient rare characters, translating word by word like a silkworm eating leaves, bit by bit devouring the content.

The afternoon passed; though only a few pages done, it was some progress.

The sky gradually darkened, and the words on the page blurred into a mess, becoming impossible to read. Mu Qian Tan rubbed her sore neck, put away the book, hugged it to her chest, and headed toward the dining hall.

She had not yet gotten close when she spotted someone standing in front of the dining hall doors from afar. The figure was tall and slender with a perfectly straight and elegant posture, wavy long hair cascading to her waist, dressed in a ragged beggar’s outfit covered in patches. No one else in the crowd dressed like that, so she knew who it was without seeing her face.

As she drew nearer, the Brain-Damaged Dragon spotted her. Even through the mask, Mu Qian Tan could sense her joy: “You came to pick me up!”

Mu Qian Tan brushed past her: “I’m here to eat.”

Shang Shan bounced after her, shaking the small cloth bundle on her chest: “Qin He has so many treasures. I borrowed a bunch, all useful ones. I’ll show them to you tonight.”

“Oh.”

As usual, she ordered a huge pile of food. The lunch lady was already used to this big rice bucket and always packed the rice into the iron basin like compressed rice cakes. The veggie plates were so heavy they were hard to carry—overly generous.

Mu Qian Tan had lost track of time while reading and arrived a bit late, missing the peak hour, so there weren’t many people around. Perfect—she didn’t have to worry about drawing annoying stares. She casually found a spot and sat down.

The portions in front of the two differed vastly, and their eating speeds were worlds apart. Mu Qian Tan ate slowly and sparingly; she’d just finished half a bowl when the one across from her had polished off an entire basin, leaving it shiny enough to mirror in.

Shang Shan patted her belly, eating happily, practically blooming with flowers on her head. Noticing the woman had only eaten that little again, her expression turned a bit serious.

After thinking seriously for a moment, she suddenly said: “Even though you’re not that nice to me, from now on, as long as I have a bite to eat, I absolutely won’t let you go hungry.”

Mu Qian Tan: “….?”

Nutcase.

After dinner, she brought her back to the Narrow Sea. It was pitch black by then.

It was still early, and she wasn’t sleepy yet, so Mu Qian Tan found a large rock in the courtyard to lean against and pulled out her book to read.

The moonlight was dim, far too weak to light up the text on the page, and using spiritual power would be too wasteful. After a short while, her eyes began to hurt. She let her gaze drift blankly over the fireflies flickering in the grass and said: “Go catch some fireflies and put them in a jar to use as a lamp.”

Imagining that scene in her mind as instructed, Shang Shan shook her head repeatedly: “That would be so cruel to them, trapped in one place with no way out. No way.”

Mu Qian Tan propped her forehead with one hand and lazily lifted her eyelids: “Then go find a lamp.”

Shang Shan said: “You can see it just fine like this. Why need a lamp?”

Mu Qian Tan kicked her shoulder: “Hurry up.” Disciples were for bossing around, after all.

She didn’t use much force—not light, not heavy—just enough to feel it without getting mad about it. Shang Shan’s body tilted forward slightly. She patted the kicked spot and huffed in dissatisfaction.

She got up, went to the bushes, gathered a pile of firewood, and came back. She ate some gold particles to light the fire, stuffing in more wood bit by bit until the flames roared high. Only then did she say: “All done!”

Mu Qian Tan read by the firelight, head down: “Mm.”

“Not even a thanks.” Shang Shan muttered as she took off her outer clothes and sat down naked.

The flash of white in her peripheral vision made Mu Qian Tan look up from her book. She discovered the Brain-Damaged Dragon was bare again. Just as she was about to say something, she noticed her actually mending clothes.

This outing had involved plenty of fights, so she had many injuries, and her clothes had naturally suffered too, turning truly ragged like beggar’s garb. Mu Qian Tan had thought she’d finally toss them this time, but no—she still kept them, cherishing them like a family heirloom.

She must have borrowed needle, thread, and fabric from Qin He; she had all the tools. Firelight danced on the girl’s face as she focused intently, pressing the fabric with her thumb and cutting it to fit the tears. The needle threaded in and out, sewing quietly.

She often seemed brainless and dazed, but who knew she could do such delicate needlework so properly.

Mu Qian Tan watched for a bit before shifting her gaze and noticing the cloth bundle beside her had been opened, revealing the corners of several books similar to the ones she’d borrowed.

Shang Shan’s attention was clearly on her sewing, but it was like she had eyes on her head. She looked up: “What’s up?”

Following the woman’s line of sight to the bundle, she said: “These books are borrowed from Qin He. They’re ones she used before, with her notes and insights written on them. She said they can help me learn faster, and if I don’t understand, she’ll tutor me. Haha, she’s such a good person.”

Right—the top disciple from the previous Civil and Martial Trials was Qin He. These could be considered study god notes. In the final sprint before the exams, they were invaluable.

Mu Qian Tan said: “Let me see them.”

Shang Shan handed them over without hesitation: “Here.”

Mu Qian Tan took them and felt they were different to the touch. Looking closely, the covers had been wrapped in paper matching the original color to protect them, with the title neatly copied on the front—indistinguishable from the originals.

Qin He really was a thoughtful child.

Flipping it open, she was inwardly shocked. The pages were densely packed with annotations. After every original sentence came neat small regular script, offering interpretations from the perspectives of her master, fellow students, and her own experiences—rich and varied.

Deeper in, many pages had little notes tucked inside: Qin He’s simplified breakdowns of the content, detailed enough for total beginners to understand, even more thorough than a textbook.

Having struggled all afternoon with the obscure language, Mu Qian Tan felt like she’d found her savior upon seeing this set. Wasn’t this way faster than looking up rare words and translating on the fly?

The only problem: these books were borrowed by the Brain-Damaged Dragon from Qin He to prepare for the Civil and Martial Trials. After the trials ended, she’d probably have to return them.

With only two months, it wasn’t enough time for both of them to finish them all, and she absolutely wouldn’t pass up this treasure trove.

No, she had to find a way to snatch them over.