Chapter 6: Black Dragon Rending the Heavens (Part 1): In the Future, When I’m Eaten, How Will It Happen?

The apprenticeship ceremony was extremely simple—so simple, in fact, that it was practically nonexistent.

“So, as long as she verbally agrees, that’s it?” Mu Qian Tan found it hard to believe. She stared at the System, needing to confirm the absurdity of it.

Li Biyuan chirped in her mind, “Yes! Once you return to the Tianyu Sect, you can just formally register her. That’s all the bureaucracy requires.”

“Then why didn’t I just grab her by the scruff of her neck from the very start?” Mu Qian Tan was utterly speechless. She looked up at the little wooden hut perched on a thick branch of the camphor tree. Clinking and clanging sounds drifted from inside. “Why did I bother trying to make her ‘sincerely submit’?”

“Well,” Li Biyuan hedged, “you have to go through this step sooner or later anyway for the plot to hold together…”

The door of the wooden hut creaked open. Shang Shan walked out, her luggage packed and ready. With a rhythmic heave-ho, she leaped down from the tree, landing with a steady thud on the forest floor.

Mu Qian Tan sized her up, and her headache worsened. The girl’s long curly hair was a bird’s nest of tangles; the bag of gold pellets still clinked at her waist; she refused to remove that hideous demon-ghost mask; and her half-wet beggar rags remained unchanged. But the strangest part was the massive square table strapped to her back.

“When you were packing,” Mu Qian Tan couldn’t help but ask, despite knowing she might regret the answer, “why on earth did you bring a table?”

Upon closer inspection, the table was all she carried. The gold pellets were stuffed haphazardly into her pouch, but the table was tied securely to her spine with tight, defensive knots, as if she feared the world might conspire to steal it.

“This is my family heirloom.” Shang Shan tugged at the ropes across her chest, glancing over her shoulder to ensure her treasure was still there.

The square table was unpainted, its natural wood grain exposed to the elements. Three feet long and three feet wide, it looked simple, sturdy, and utterly common. Nothing about it screamed “ancient treasure.”

Li Biyuan chimed in right on cue, “Actually, there’s a long story behind that table—”

“Then don’t tell it,” Mu Qian Tan cut her off. “I don’t want to hear it.”

“Oh…” Li Biyuan went silent.

The reason the two hadn’t set off yet reached back to that morning. After finally securing the Female Protagonist as her disciple, Mu Qian Tan had wanted to head straight back to the sect for a week of uninterrupted sleep. But this brain-damaged dragon insisted she still had “accounts to collect” and needed more time.

As it turned out, Shang Shan had been out the previous day specifically to collect those debts. She had been hired by a local family to catch rats, but since they lacked the funds at the time, they had promised to pay her later.

Mu Qian Tan wanted to argue that a few copper coins weren’t worth the delay, but Shang Shan was adamant. She claimed that people had to keep their word; she had missed their meeting yesterday due to “an accident” (being beaten and kidnapped), and she owed them an explanation.

Arguing with a stubborn dragon was a waste of breath. Mu Qian Tan waited under the tree hut, watching the sun rise. By the time the sky fully brightened and the heat began to shimmer off the leaves, Shang Shan returned. She didn’t come to leave, however; she came for breakfast.

“Three meals a day must be eaten on time,” the girl declared solemnly. “That is how one builds a sturdy body.”

Mu Qian Tan felt that if she let this girl rile her up any more, her own body would simply wither away from stress. She considered dragging her away by force, but the road back to the sect was long. She couldn’t watch the girl every second, so she gave in. Fine. Let her eat.

At the breakfast stall, Mu Qian Tan witnessed a nightmare. Although Li Biyuan had warned her that this hungry dragon had a bottomless stomach, seeing it firsthand was a different matter entirely.

Five steamers of buns, three large flatbreads, four fried dough sticks, and four bowls of spicy soup—all vanished into Shang Shan’s stomach without a trace. Her belly remained as flat as a board. Even a pig would have bulked up after such a haul, but in Shang Shan’s gut, matter simply ceased to exist.

Mu Qian Tan, exhausted and nauseous, managed only half a flatbread. The contrast was insulting.

“Um… you can count this as one of the Female Protagonist’s special abilities,” Li Biyuan whispered.

Mu Qian Tan sipped her soup, her eyes wide. “Is there anything she can’t eat?”

Li Biyuan flipped through the setting book she had compiled overnight. “According to the records… none. There is nothing she cannot eat, and nothing she cannot digest. The Female Protagonist’s stomach is essentially the crematorium of all things under heaven. It’s terrifying.”

Li Biyuan quoted a line from the original text: “‘She loves to devour gold, silver, treasures, and jewels; she can swallow the stars and spit out the moons, and melt the sun in her palm.’ The late-stage Female Protagonist is that invincible. Oh—wait, not that last bit. That’s my own commentary.”

The reminder brought Mu Qian Tan’s thoughts back to her own impending doom.

In the original story, the “Vicious Female Supporting Character” wasn’t a rival for the male lead’s heart. Instead, her malice targeted the Female Protagonist exclusively. At first, she had been aloof, but once a spy revealed the secret of Shang Shan’s dragon bloodline, greed had taken hold.

Legends said that sacrificing a great demon beast to the heavens granted a wish. A dragon on the sacrificial altar was the ultimate prize—an express ticket to immortality. The original Master, tired of her mortal limits, had succumbed to the temptation. She had nurtured Shang Shan, earning her total trust and dependency, only to lure her to an altar and slay her cruelly.

Of course, the plan had failed. The wounded dragon had plunged into the Molten Lava Sea, slumbered for five years, and emerged to soar as a god. Her first act upon awakening was to devour her Master whole to prove her dao.

Mu Qian Tan set down her bowl. Under the table, her fingertip brushed the unhealed bite mark on the back of her hand. She wrapped it in spiritual power to dull the throbbing pain.

One bite hurts like this, she thought darkly. In the future, when she eats me… I hope she at least gives me a swift end.

The sun was glaring now, forcing Mu Qian Tan to squint. “Can we go now?”

“Breakfast done, debts collected, luggage packed—ready!” Shang Shan chirped.

A smiling old grandfather with a cane shuffled past, greeting them warmly. “Where’s Kitty off to today?”

Shang Shan turned and waved enthusiastically. “Hello, Grandpa! I’m off to cultivate immortality!”

“Are there rats in the Immortal Realm too?” the old man joked.

“Bad guys are everywhere!”

“Be careful then,” he laughed. “Don’t lose.”

“Of course not!”

Mu Qian Tan watched the long, drawn-out farewell with an expression of pure exhaustion. From behind, Shang Shan—with the giant table strapped to her back—resembled a square-shelled turtle walking on two long legs.

“Enough already,” Mu Qian Tan muttered, rubbing her brow.

Shang Shan finally turned back, her voice bright. “Let’s go! To the main road!”

“Do you actually know how far the Tianyu Sect is?” Mu Qian Tan snapped. “I only had one acceleration talisman, and I used it yesterday to find you. Without it, the distance is daunting.”

Shang Shan shrugged. “I don’t know the way, but there isn’t a road in this world that two feet can’t conquer.”

“Stubborn as hell,” Mu Qian Tan hissed. She glanced around the empty path, then pinched her brow, chanting softly.

Deep blue spiritual power surged from her meridians toward her nape, her skin flaring with a blinding light. A clear crane cry rent the sky. Pure white feathers burst from her neck, forming elegant wings in the blink of an eye as a whirlwind birthed a massive form. When the dust settled, a red-crowned crane, two people tall, stood before them.

Shang Shan gaped. “What kind of spell is that!”

It wasn’t a spell; it was Mu Qian Tan’s secret. As a half-demon, her twin sister had never fully formed a human shape, remaining a demon fetus within her. Over the years, she had refined her sister’s form, hiding her in a seal on her nape. She passed the crane off as a spirit beast, and since the Tianyu Sect revered cranes, no one suspected the truth.

“White Pupil,” Mu Qian Tan called softly. “Take us back.”

The crane spread its snow-white wings and knelt, offering its broad, soft back. The crane was beautiful, but its eyes were a haunting, sightless white—the flaw of her “sister.”

Shang Shan hiked up her sleeves to climb on, but Mu Qian Tan yanked her back by the collar.

“Ditch the beggar rags first.”

“These?” Shang Shan whined. “They’re heirlooms!”

“They are filthy,” Mu Qian Tan said flatly. “You’ve rolled in mud and rain. You will soil my spirit beast’s feathers. Change, or walk the thousand miles back. Choose.”

Shang Shan huffed, thought about it, and then declared, “Got it!”

She set the table down gently. Her fingers worked quickly as she untied her red jade sash and let her robes fall away, standing there as bare as the day she was born. After balling the robe up with the table, she strapped the whole mess back onto her naked shoulders.

She patted her chest. “Problem solved!”

Mu Qian Tan stared at her, stunned by the girl’s total lack of shame. Her figure was indeed as stunning as the System had promised, but the sight was a moral hazard.

“Do you have no shame?”

“None,” Shang Shan said, burrowing into the crane’s feathers.

Mu Qian Tan rolled her eyes and spurred her spiritual power. White Pupil soared into the sky, leaving the village far below.

The journey lasted nearly two weeks. When hunger gnawed at them, they would swoop down to hunt wild game and drink from mountain springs. When sleep overcame them, they rested atop high tree branches. By the time three days remained of their journey, the sky darkened with a heavy, impending rain.

Mu Qian Tan guided White Pupil to a cave just as the first drops fell. Thunder boomed outside while a fire crackled within, casting dancing shadows on the stone walls.

Because White Pupil was blind, she required Mu Qian Tan’s constant spiritual guidance. Mu Qian Tan hadn’t rested properly in days and was on the verge of collapsing against the cold stone.

Shang Shan sat by the fire, legs hugged to her chest, chewing loudly on gold pellets. When she finished, she spat a small burst of dragon flame into the embers to make them burn brighter.

The sound woke Mu Qian Tan. She wanted to yell, but she knew they were in the wilderness; someone had to stay alert for wild beasts or bandits.

“You,” Mu Qian Tan kroaked, her voice thick with fatigue. “Go guard the entrance. See if anyone is coming.”

“Why me?” Shang Shan asked.

“Because if I don’t sleep tonight, I won’t be able to guide the crane tomorrow. Do you want to walk?”

It made sense. Shang Shan huffed and sat by the fire, facing the entrance. “I’ll watch from here. It’s all the same.”

With someone on watch, Mu Qian Tan finally let her eyes close. Exhaustion swept over her, a deep ache settling into her bones as she drifted into a heavy sleep.

She didn’t know how long she slept before a sharp, stinging pain on the back of her hand jolted her awake. She bit back a groan. She had rolled onto her stomach in her sleep, pressing her unhealed wound against the hard floor.

Dizziness lingered in her mind. She rummaged through her storage pouch, but to her fury, she still found no medicine. It was illogical; the original Master had a frail body—why would she carry weapons but no bandages?

Staunching the blood with spiritual power, Mu Qian Tan looked up, ready to kick the girl out of spite. But Shang Shan was already looking at her.

The fire had dwindled to glowing embers. The girl sat with her mask off, the cold moonlight illuminating her face.

“What are you thinking about?” Mu Qian Tan asked, her voice rasping.

Shang Shan cleared her throat, her toes tapping the ground. “I’m thinking… why Liu He could do it. They were blood-related family. Doesn’t that mean anything?”

Mu Qian Tan’s lashes trembled. “Blood ties are not reliable,” she said softly.

“Oh.” Shang Shan pondered this. “Then what is?”

“Yourself. Only yourself.”

Shang Shan nodded quietly. She rambled on about nonsense for a few minutes, but Mu Qian Tan was too tired to listen. Finally, the girl asked, “Does your wound hurt a lot?”

Mu Qian Tan ignored her.

“Without my help,” Shang Shan said, her voice turning serious, “that wound will never heal.”

Mu Qian Tan sat up abruptly, her eyes darkening. It made sense—a dragon’s bite was a curse. Only the one who cast it could break it.

“How do you help?” Mu Qian Tan demanded, her gaze icy.

Shang Shan’s eyes were clear and earnest as she pointed to her own lips. “I need to lick it.”