Chapter 54 Part 2

The two went back and forth, saying all that could be said. Only then did Jiang Zhouyao say, “Go.”

Qin He held the small mantis cage and bowed to everyone one last time. “I’m off. Goodbye.”

Cultivators always had straightforward minds; leaving on a whim was not uncommon.

She flipped onto the crane, which spread its wings and flew away, kicking up a whirlwind. In their gazes, it grew smaller and smaller, gradually shrinking to an invisible point at the edge of the sky.

Two people came running from under the grape arbor; they were Fu Li’s two maids. They had probably failed to meet her at the entrance to the Trial Field and were somewhat panicked at the moment. Only upon seeing Fu Li there did they breathe a sigh of relief.

One of them said, “Little Mistress, shall we go back?”

Fu Li withdrew her gaze from the horizon. With a glance at Jiang Zhouyao from the corner of her eye, she said, “Mm.”

She bid farewell to the others and left.

The grape arbor, which had been lively just moments before, suddenly left only two people standing opposite each other. Watching them depart into the distance, Jiang Zhouyao removed the flower-embroidered headscarf from her head and smiled faintly. “Yao’e Immortal, please rest in the room for a moment. This afternoon, this one will call for you.”

Mu Qian Tan said, “Mm, thank you.”

She turned her head to look around. The Brain-Damaged Dragon had vanished somewhere ever since trying to clamber onto the immortal crane from Qin He; there was no sign of her anywhere along the cliff edge. Mu Qian Tan did not dwell on it—she could guess what had happened. Her friend had left just like that, with no word on when she would return. Given the Brain-Damaged Dragon’s personality, she had likely gone off to sulk in some corner.

Returning to the courtyard to rest, Mu Qian Tan paused in front of the hammock. Noticing how intense the midday sunlight was, she decided it was unsuitable to linger in the courtyard and headed into the room instead.

As she passed the square wooden table, she inadvertently glanced down and spotted the edge of black clothing by one of the table legs.

With an answer in her heart, she walked over to the table and kicked underneath it. Shang Shan cried out “aiyo!” and tumbled out from the other side. She rolled a few times before coming to a stop, seated on the ground.

She had actually been squatting under the table. Mu Qian Tan said, “What kind of appearance is this?”

Shang Shan’s clothes were covered in dust. She had clearly been all smiles when seeing people off earlier, but now she was back to that listless look from mealtime. She rubbed her butt, hugged her knees, rested her chin on them, and stayed sullenly quiet.

Mu Qian Tan leaned sideways against the table edge, propping herself up on one palm while tapping lightly with her fingertips. “It’s just going down the mountain—not like she’s dead. Is it really necessary?”

Even her hair strands seemed to wilt. Shang Shan moved her lips. “I don’t like farewells.”

Mu Qian Tan said, “Then you’d better get used to them early. Life is long, with people coming and going. Where there is gathering, there is parting; farewells are never lacking.”

Startled as if by those words, Shang Shan abruptly buried her head between her knees. Her long hair trailed to the floor, covering her entire face—like a potted plant that had buried itself.

Mu Qian Tan stopped tapping and withdrew her hand. She had no pleasure in watching wilted flowers and planned to find a bed for some rest. At that moment, she heard a muffled voice from the “potted plant.” “But she went down the mountain to…”

Mu Qian Tan could not make it out clearly and frowned. “Speak properly.”

Shang Shan lifted her head. Red imprints from her knees marked both cheeks. She did not dare look over as she haltingly continued, “But she went down the mountain to investigate the case—her sister’s case. If it really was you who killed the person, then you two…”

She shot a quick glance before lowering her head again. “Then won’t you two end up fighting?”

Small head, but plenty of thoughts. Mu Qian Tan asked, “What are you trying to express?”

Shang Shan looked utterly perplexed. “Then when the time comes, do I help you or help her?”

Her voice trailed off to the ground just as a gust of wind blew through the hall. The clear tinkling of wind chimes filled the room.

Mu Qian Tan stared at the huddled dragon, waiting for the wind to pass. She then tilted her head toward the window and said indifferently, “What do you think?”

Shang Shan said, “You are my master; I like you very much. But Qin He is my good friend; I like her very much too. So right now…”

“Don’t think about it,” Mu Qian Tan cut her off. “It’s too early for that—it’s meaningless.”

Shang Shan counted on her fingers. “Then can’t you tell me about what happened in the past? Have you… done those things? That way, I could at least prepare myself mentally ahead of time…”

The wind chimes rang again, dingling like silken rain. Mu Qian Tan tugged her lips into a smile, seemingly unwilling to say more. She had just turned to leave when she stopped and asked, “How is your spiritual power usage coming along?”

The sudden shift to spiritual power left Shang Shan reacting after a beat. She opened and closed her hands. “I can use a little bit.”

“Come here.” Mu Qian Tan nodded her chin slightly. “To the courtyard.”

After the qi apertures opened, connections gradually formed between them, creating qi meridians to transmit spiritual power. In the Yellow Sparrow Illusion, the blue flames that the Brain-Damaged Dragon had spat out afterward were dragon flame infused with spiritual power, proving she had formed rudimentary qi meridians and could wield some spiritual power.

The past two days at the invigilation station had been relatively peaceful and comfortable. Mu Qian Tan felt that as a master, she had been negligent in not checking her disciple’s cultivation progress. Since she had time now, this was a good chance to test it.

The two arrived in the courtyard. She walked to one corner, thrust her right palm forward, and placed her left hand behind her back. “Come—concentrate all your spiritual power in your palm and clash with mine.”

The woman’s face bore its usual cold indifference; by now, one ought to be accustomed to it, with no intimidation left. Yet Shang Shan sensed something amiss. She twisted at her sleeves anxiously. “Just a palm clash?”

Mu Qian Tan said, “No more nonsense. Three seconds. One, two…”

Her voice was soft, yet it tolled like a funeral bell. The girl panicked at once, pressing her hands to her forehead and frantically drawing on the thin, misty spiritual power in her arms, gathering it in her right palm. Just before the third count escaped her lips, faint golden particles of light coalesced between her fingers!

With a loud shout, she instant-stepped forward and struck with her palm. Their palms met with a boom, sending out a ring of outward-spiraling light waves that carved vertical gashes into the red pillars on either side. The immense force hurled Shang Shan backward, smashing her through an entire wall amid billowing dust.

Debris still trickled from the fractured wall when a hand emerged from the dust cloud, clawing at the broken stone.

Moments later, Shang Shan coughed a few times, waved away the smoke, and staggered out covered head to toe in powdery white dust. Dizzy and seeing stars, she dazedly said, “Why’d you use so much force?”

Mu Qian Tan calmed her spiritual power and scoffed. “Useless.”

Caught off guard by the beating and scolding, Shang Shan flared with anger, her grief over her friend’s departure forgotten. She gritted her teeth, yanked her legs free from the knee-deep dust and dirt, madly rubbed her hair, shook her head, and charged again.

A fierce gust assailed as she closed in. Mu Qian Tan sidestepped, twisted her waist slightly, and swept her raised right foot at the girl’s legs—striking true.

Off-balance, the girl pitched forward. Mu Qian Tan whipped her sweeping leg higher, then stomped down with crushing force on Shang Shan’s lower back, slamming her to the ground.

“Ah!”

The impact was vicious, nearly cratering the ground in a human shape. Pinned flat by that foot, Shang Shan lay there a long while, unable to rise. Once the dizziness passed, she turned her face to the dirt and coughed out, “What are you doing!”

“You’ve got no strength to speak of, but that mouth is sharp,” Mu Qian Tan said disdainfully. “Still dreaming of getting stronger? Go cultivate in your dreams, you good-for-nothing.”

Provoked by the words, Shang Shan’s face alternated between red and pale. She tried to push up against the pressure on her waist but remained firmly pinned, unable to roll over. Taking deep breaths, she suddenly flung a cloud of white dust upward.

It was the dust she had clutched when smashed through the wall earlier. The upward palm-strike of powder blinded the woman, who recoiled involuntarily, slackening the pressure on her foot.

Seizing the moment, Shang Shan grabbed her ankle with a backhand and clambered upward. Mu Qian Tan flung up a spiritual power barrier like an ice shell before her. A fist shattered it, punched through, morphed into a claw trailing golden spiritual energy like flowing wind, and halted at her neck.

As the dust cleared, the girl’s smug face emerged. “I win!”

Mu Qian Tan said, “Is that so?”

A huge grin split Shang Shan’s face, her two rows of little white teeth gleaming. In the next instant, however, the smile froze into bewilderment. “Eh?”

Looking down, the ground fell away. A choking tightness gripped her throat as her body was yanked upward, forcing her claw from the woman’s neck.

Glancing back, she saw the woman had summoned White Pupil at some point. The immortal crane loomed behind her, gripping her collar in its beak and hoisting her into the air.

Gray palm prints from the Brain-Damaged Dragon’s earlier antics dusted her clothes; Mu Qian Tan brushed them away one by one. “Did you win?”

Shang Shan dangled to and fro. “Lost.”

Mu Qian Tan casually raised her left hand in a flicking motion. Shang Shan flew off at once like a worthless trash bag, splatting back into the pile of wall dust.

Her head popped out with a poof. “So mean!”

Judging the time about right, Mu Qian Tan prepared to head to the Grading Pavilion. After cleaning herself up, she shot the girl a cold glance and mounted the crane’s back.

Shang Shan rolled out of the dust, pattered after her, and hugged White Pupil’s long leg, refusing to let go. “Take me with you!”

Mu Qian Tan allowed her to cling on as she rode the crane to pick up Jiang Zhouyao before heading together to the Grading Pavilion.

Aside from a martial tournament that few would join, the artifact trial was essentially over. Far fewer people remained in the sect; streets stood empty, plazas vast, and even the ambient natural qi felt denser.

They arrived directly at the Grading Pavilion—the first to do so. This was a sensitive area; disciples could not enter. Mu Qian Tan tossed the Brain-Damaged Dragon outside to fend for herself and entered the room with the hesitant Jiang Zhouyao. They sat at the table and drank tea for a while.

After half a stick of incense had burned, others began arriving one after another.

The first was Xie Mei, who had critiqued Qin He’s pill refining. She still wore that faintly stern, glowering expression, whisk in hand and clad in black-and-white daoist robes topped by a jade lotus crown with all her forehead hair combed up—exuding a calm as deep as ink. She nodded in greeting to Jiang Zhouyao but merely snorted coldly at Mu Qian Tan, refusing her a proper glance.

Not bad—the most hatred-filled-of-evil immortal truly could not tolerate her “ten evils unpardoned.”

Mu Qian Tan sipped her tea without much concern. Another person entered, wafting a thick medicinal aroma that drew her curious gaze.

It was a woman of unremarkable appearance. Amid the Immortal Realm’s glut of beauties, she seemed rather plain. Her utterly featureless white robe was the color of tofu blocks, flour, or snow—positively inconspicuous. Yet her features were refined, her skin fair and creamy; she could pass for a minor beauty.

Her temperament seemed even more aloof than Mu Qian Tan’s. Upon entering, she greeted no one, drifting quietly like a specter to a corner seat where she sat lost in a daze.

Mu Qian Tan recognized her from notable traits as “the most deeply concealed immortal” in the Five Great Ruthless People Record—Shen Xin.

A medical cultivator, she disliked the constant “Upper Immortal” address and insisted everyone use her name. Out of respect, however, they called her Immortal Master Shen instead.

Her medical prowess was said to be peerless: a mere glance diagnosed most ailments; a touch brought miraculous recovery; a dose of medicine cured instantly. The supreme medical cultivator, unrivaled in the age.

The book surely lavished praise on her, but if true, she was indeed deeply hidden.

One more remained, mysterious beyond measure—who knew how mysterious.

Mu Qian Tan waited. Even Panxiang Yin had arrived, yet the mysterious one had not appeared.

Little immortal attendants hauled in stacks of scrolls, thick as small mountains—enough to stifle anyone just looking at them.

Mu Qian Tan received her share to grade. Clutching them, she itched to hurl them all away like whirling snowflakes. But that was mere fancy; she could not lose control before the sect master and other hall masters—the consequences would be unthinkable. She tamped down her irritation.

Annoying. So annoying.

Propping her forehead in half-dead fashion while eyeing the scrolls, she awaited the last hall master—who finally arrived late amid peals of laughter, light footsteps, and swirling mist. “Came late, came late! Sisters won’t mind, will you? The most beautiful beauty always makes her entrance last.”

The voice sounded oddly familiar. Mu Qian Tan looked up, and her eyelid twitched at the sight.

It was a woman with deep black lipstick: one eye covered by an eyepatch, the other bearing a glazed mirror. Her purple skirt blazed with splendor, her figure graceful. Half black gloves clad her hands as she lounged lazily against the doorframe, an emerald smoking pipe clenched between her lips and teeth.

The eye beneath the glazed mirror curved like a crescent moon, lustrous as a brook. The woman exhaled a puff of smoke—like the prelude to an unfolding dreamscape. It took Mu Qian Tan back to the Cloudtop Immortal Manor, across the bookshelves to that half-shadowed face of cold allure: ink-black lips plump and moist, parting and closing to repeat those faithful warnings of death without burial.

It was that nameless madwoman from the Scripture Pavilion that day—she was the final hall master!