Chapter 57: East City Glamour Corpse (Part 2): Her Master Was Very Tolerant Part 1

Whether she was smart or not was hard to say, but her guts were getting fatter by the day—what words she dared to speak out loud. Mu Qian Tan’s expression didn’t change, but she kicked her from below, not lightly at all; it was sure to leave a mark. “Say that again.”

Shang Shan grimaced, hugging her leg and rubbing it. “Liar, coward!”

Mu Qian Tan rolled her eyes and sneered, “If you’re so brave, go find those legs yourself.”

“What legs? I’m perfectly fine…” She flipped up her clothes and rubbed the leg that was already turning black and purple. Midway through speaking, her eyes darted as she realized something. “Ah, are you taking me to find my legs?”

Mu Qian Tan said, “In three days.”

The joy of the upcoming outing made Shang Shan forget the beating she’d just taken. Her fingers drew a little person on the stone table, poking at it here and there as she laughed. “Great! Hands opened, five senses opened. Once the legs open too, it’ll be almost done! Then I can focus on cultivation.”

Mu Qian Tan picked up some stir-fried greens with her chopsticks and slowly chewed them.

This girl thought that once she opened all the qi apertures and qi meridians, she could fully cross the threshold into cultivation and step onto the path to becoming a god. Little did she know that after opening all the qi apertures, what awaited wasn’t smoother cultivation, but the awakening of the dragon bloodline—and that was no picnic.

Though she already knew from the original book what she’d become later on, seeing it with her own eyes and spending day and night together was completely different from just reading words on a page.

Watching her so carefree as she drew little people on the table, it was truly hard to imagine what she’d be like as the Dragon God in the future.

Of course, it wasn’t guaranteed she’d become the Dragon God. If Mu Qian Tan could successfully rebel against the original plot and sacrifice her successfully…

Then it wouldn’t be her becoming a god.

If she couldn’t succeed, she’d have to find a way to escape the ending where she got eaten.

Once she snatched the spiritual medicine that could heal her heart from her, she could break free of the System’s restrictions. After that, if the sacrifice failed, Mu Qian Tan would flee to the ends of the earth so she couldn’t find her. As long as they didn’t meet head-on, she wouldn’t die.

As for what happened after she grew into the Dragon God, it would have nothing to do with her, so she wouldn’t need to care about her future appearance.

As she pondered all sorts of messy thoughts, the girl over there suddenly said, “But your wound hasn’t healed yet, right?”

Mu Qian Tan said, “So don’t cause me any trouble.”

It felt like ever since transmigrating, her body had never been fully healed—not banged up here or bleeding there. She hadn’t suffered these kinds of injuries before. Thinking about it carefully, she suddenly felt speechless. Did cannon fodder side characters have no human rights? Did they have to be made like this?

Shang Shan said, “When have I ever caused you trouble? I just talk about you every day.”

Mu Qian Tan kicked her again. “And now you’re talking back.”

Now both legs had matching black-and-purple bruises. Shang Shan patted her mouth with her palm. “I won’t say it anymore. From now on, I won’t say anything. My mouth will only be for eating from here on out. Even if you tell me to talk, I won’t.”

Three days later, the two arrived at a small town called Rice Wine Town.

At the end of the empty long street with no one in sight, two figures gradually appeared.

One wore a Beggar Cloud Robe and an Evil Ghost Mask, looking around curiously. The other wore an ice-blue long skirt and a translucent Crane-Gazing Orchid Step-Shake that swayed with each step, her face as cold as ice.

On this trip, Mu Qian Tan hadn’t given any reasons; she’d just grabbed the girl and left, without explaining to anyone.

The sect master felt guilty toward her and had exempted her from lessons and sect duties for a while. He also didn’t call her out for dragon trace patrols. Even if he saw her leaving, he wouldn’t dare ask, so this trip was straightforward and aboveboard—far more comfortable than sneaking around and making excuses.

Freedom really was better.

The town had sparse population, dilapidated shops, and streets covered in yellow dust and grit, like a dying old man or rotting wood. Only the aroma of fermented wine grains provided any vitality, mingling with the dust and thin fog, intoxicating.

Shang Shan peered out through her mask. Seeing such a rundown scene, she thought it was a problem with the mask at first. She lifted it slightly, and wine fragrance hit her nose. She shook her head and asked, “Master, what are we doing here?”

Mu Qian Tan said, “Kill a ghost.”

“Oh!” Shang Shan immediately understood the desolation here. “There does seem to be a ghost. I smell the ghost’s scent.”

Mu Qian Tan said, “That’s the smell of wine.” She reached up and pressed the girl’s mask back down tight against her face. “Don’t sniff.”

Shang Shan said, “Why not?”

“We’re not catching a ghost here.” Mu Qian Tan looked up and spotted a tavern with a relatively clean storefront—possibly the only one in town. She grabbed the girl’s collar and dragged her inside. “Just taking a break.”

“Oh, oh, oh.”

The inside was fairly spacious, with the fragrance of wine and meat wafting about. There were quite a few people, all slouched over tables. Some carried knives or swords—they were mostly martial artists. Their clothing was a mishmash, with no uniformity; loose cultivators predominated.

The people inside had been talking loudly, but when Mu Qian Tan walked in, the noise cut off. Only after she found a sunlit corner table did the chatter resume in hushed, fragmented tones.

People occasionally stole glances, sipping their wine and pretending nonchalance. No need to listen to know it wasn’t anything good.

Mu Qian Tan lifted her skirt and sat down, ignoring them. She simply unstrung the Solitary Goose and placed it on the edge of the table, and the stares immediately lessened.

A waiter brought two bowls of rice wine lees and asked attentively, “What would the two guests like?”

Shang Shan said, “How big are your plates here?”

The waiter saw her face covered by an Evil Ghost Mask but with a head of silky black hair and a crisp girlish voice. He couldn’t help but feel curious and gave her an extra look. He circled his thumb and index finger. “This big, guest. Our portions are generous. For someone like you, half a plate would fill you right up.”

Shang Shan eyed the size and nodded. “Five plates of meat, five plates of vegetables. Thanks, bring mine first. If it’s not enough, I’ll say so.” She asked across the table, “Master, how much do you want to eat?”

“…” Under the waiter’s stunned gaze as if he’d seen a ghost, Mu Qian Tan spat out two words: “Half a plate.”

The waiter let out an “Eh” and went to the kitchen to place the order, looking back three steps at a time.

Shang Shan dragged over a stool to reposition herself, making sure she faced away from everyone in the shop. Only then did she remove her mask, revealing a radiant, delicate little face that clashed with the rundown shop.

She leaned close to the bowl of rice wine lees and sniffed, about to dart her tongue out for a taste when the bowl was snatched away. She licked at empty air.

“What are you doing?” Shang Shan pulled back her tongue and tried to grab it back. “I want to taste it.”

Mu Qian Tan poured her bowl into her own and set the empty one back upside down in front of her. “No.”

In the original book, the female protagonist had an abysmal tolerance for alcohol—she got drunk at the slightest touch. If she just passed out asleep after, that would’ve been fine, but she loved going wild instead. It was as if all that hot blood was ignited by the booze, burning fiercely with boundless energy. She could bounce around for three days and nights without issue, giving everyone massive headaches.

Mu Qian Tan had no desire to deal with this hyperactive monster, so she strictly forbade it. Not knowing why, Shang Shan rested her chin on the table and rolled her eyes up at her. “Bad woman.”

Mu Qian Tan said, “What happened to the person who said she wouldn’t talk?”

Shang Shan covered her mouth. “She regrets it. She found out not talking is too lonely, so she has to talk after all.”

Mu Qian Tan pulled a few copper coins from her bosom and flicked them at her forehead; they bounced off and rolled across the table. “Here’s a chance to practice. There’s a sweet tofu pudding shop near where we came in. Go buy some.”

With so many people in the shop, all rough types clustered together, the smell wasn’t great and soured her mood. She’d spotted a sweet tofu pudding stall in an alley on the way and hadn’t thought much of it then, but now she wanted some to freshen her mouth. So she sent her to buy it.

Shang Shan scooped the coins into her hand and put her mask back on. “If you want to eat it, just say so. No need to call it training. Even without that, I’d go buy it for you.”

She took the money and headed out. On the other side of the shop, a man at a table suddenly shot to his feet and roared, “Daring to charge Grandpa this much for such a trivial thing? You want money to buy your life or what?”

The waiter trembled all over, afraid things would blow up. He quickly placated, “No charge, no charge, sir. Don’t get mad. It’s nothing.”

The man’s muscles bulged as he bellowed, “Look at me! Who gave you the dog guts to mess with Grandpa?”

“Sir, you’re my grandpa. Please sit down. No charge for your table. It was my loose tongue that offended you. I’ll punish myself.”

The man was too tall; the waiter craned his neck up at him, legs shaking. He slapped himself across the face, cheeks swelling red, not daring to touch them. “Eat first, sir. I’ll bring more dishes right away.”

The man said, “Bring dishes, bring dishes. I think you look like a dish.”

Laughter rippled lowly through the shop. Mu Qian Tan sipped her rice wine lees lightly and watched coldly for a bit before her gaze shifted to the door.

The next second, Shang Shan bounded in from the sunlight carrying sweet tofu pudding. She first puzzled over the changed atmosphere in the shop, then saw the argument. The man was about to grab the waiter’s collar when she shouted, “What are you doing!”

Her voice rang out clear and sharp, drawing everyone’s eyes. Shang Shan hurried back to the table, set down the tofu pudding, said “eat first,” and jumped into the fray, yanking the waiter behind her. “What are you doing!”

The man paused, then burst out laughing. “The waiter borrowed some dog guts, and you got half of them, you little yellow-haired girl?”

Laughter erupted again. The waiter looked like a rooster before a male eagle, while this girl was just a quail— the contrast was comical.

But the laughter soon stopped. Many in the shop recognized the woman in the corner as the Yao’e Immortal and knew this girl had come with her, so she must have some skills. The schadenfreude that had been aimed at the waiter now turned to the man.

Ignoring the waiter’s attempts to stop her, Shang Shan said, “Are you bullying people?”

The man said, “How is it me bullying? Everyone here is after intel on that ghost in East City. You can sell it, but charging this much is shameless, right? He started it. Shouldn’t a shady merchant get beaten?”

Shang Shan said, “Business is between buyer and seller. If it doesn’t work out, don’t buy. You think it’s expensive, so don’t. No one’s forcing you. But hitting people is wrong!”

Under everyone’s gaze, being sharply rebuked by a little girl made the man lose face. Seeing her slender frame and her companion looking frail and easy to handle, he skipped words and reached out with a big hand. “Wearing a mask to scare people? Let Grandpa teach you some rules!”

Spiritual power gathered in her five senses, and the man’s movements instantly turned slow and comical. Shang Shan raised her hand, gripped his wrist, and twisted it down. She’d only meant to redirect his attack, but there was a crisp crack—she’d directly broken his arm.

The man’s eyes bulged as he clutched his arm and screamed. Shang Shan quickly withdrew her hand. “Sorry, that was an accident.”

She’d seen the man as tall and burly, thinking he was pretty tough. Who knew a little force would snap his arm? What a paper tiger.