Chapter 7: Black Dragon Rending the Heavens (Part 2): I Said, This Is the Last Time!

She turned the sentence over and over in her mind, dismantling and reassembling it countless times, but its meaning remained stubbornly the same. Mu Qian Tan’s expression shifted dramatically, a short, bitter laugh escaping her. “Get lost.”

Just recalling the sensation of being bitten that day was enough to sharpen the pain. Letting her get close now was out of the question.

Words alone couldn’t vent her fury; she nearly unleashed a surge of spiritual energy to blast the girl away. Shang Shan dodged just in time, springing to her feet and pressing herself against the cave wall. “What’s your problem? I was trying to help!”

Mu Qian Tan pushed herself up from the ground, fine beads of sweat tracing her neck. She gritted her teeth. “And biting me was help too?”

Shang Shan’s brow furrowed deeply. “You attacked me first for no reason! I bit back!”

Mu Qian Tan knew that perfectly well, but admitting her own fault was the last thing she’d ever do. Leaning against the cool stone, she sneered, “Then get farther away.”

She’d only meant to help—had seen how fitful the girl’s sleep was—and this cold rejection was what she got? No one would swallow that quietly.

The girl’s cheeks puffed out as she let out a heavy huff. “Fine, I’ll go. And don’t bother begging me later to heal you. You can just suffer!”

She brushed the dust from her tattered clothes and made a show of marching toward the cave mouth.

Watching her stomp away, eyes blazing with determination, Mu Qian Tan rested a hand on her storage pouch, weighing whether she could subdue the girl in her current state.

Winning a real fight wouldn’t be hard, but she felt weak just then. If Shang Shan seized another chance to sink her teeth in, she wasn’t sure she could take it.

After a brief pause, Mu Qian Tan tried another angle. “Is that any way to speak to your master?”

As if suddenly remembering, Shang Shan halted and turned back, words poised on her tongue. But meeting that icy gaze, she swallowed them.

She rephrased, “It’s *because* you’re my master now that I’m trying to make peace. Let me tend your wounds, and we can call it even.”

Mu Qian Tan was silent for a beat. “Is ‘make peace’ the right phrase here?”

“Ugh, whatever!” Shang Shan raked a hand through her tangled hair in frustration. “My point is, I want us to get along.”

“Then less chatter,” Mu Qian Tan said flatly. “Just behave.”

“I *am* behaving. You’re the one who woke me up and then blamed me for it.”

Mu Qian Tan pretended not to hear. She closed her eyes, leaned back against the stone wall, and focused on settling her spirit.

“…” Shang Shan could only stare in speechless exasperation.

In all her life, she’d never met anyone so infuriating.

With anyone else, she could’ve just vented her anger with her fists. But this woman was now her master—and one she couldn’t hope to beat. The thought was utterly depressing.

She pulled out two golden pellets, tossed them into her mouth, and crunched down loudly, grinding metal against teeth in a deliberately grating noise. Seeing the woman’s brow twitch in annoyance, Shang Shan swallowed with a grim sense of satisfaction.

The icy cave wall leached away her body heat and the clammy sweat from sleep. Mu Qian Tan slowed her breathing, gently massaging her wounded side, and said nothing.

A spark flickered in Shang Shan’s throat. She nipped at the flame’s tip and spoke earnestly, “You said you wouldn’t hit me for no reason. Maybe you’ve forgotten, so I’ll let those two strikes slide.”

“But one more time…” She rubbed her backside, her small face solemn. “Hit me once more, and I’m leaving for good.”

She emphasized, “And I won’t look back.”

The girl spoke with utmost seriousness, hoping for a serious reply. Sadly, she was facing someone who took pleasure in trampling sincerity—doomed to disappointment.

The morning sun slanted into the cave, extinguishing the last embers as a wisp of pale smoke curled upward. Mu Qian Tan opened her eyes, stood, and without so much as a glance at the girl, strode out of the cave.

Shang Shan’s gaze followed the retreating figure. She blinked, then called out, “You haven’t answered me!”

The woman’s back didn’t even pause. Enraged, Shang Shan stamped her foot, then couldn’t hold back the fire in her throat—she spat it straight onto the remnants of the fire. The charred branches vanished instantly, scorching the cave floor black.

Ignoring the commotion behind her, Mu Qian Tan reached a clear, open area outside. She tilted her face toward the sunlight. The rain-washed forest swayed in verdant waves, the crisp air cleansing her lungs and mind.

Her thumb brushed over her fingertips in sequence. Mu Qian Tan took a few deep breaths. Moments later, the eternal glacier in her eyes sank beneath a placid, unrippled surface.

Temporary forbearance in exchange for the resources of the modern world—it was an unbeatable deal. No matter how much she despised it, no matter how her impatience simmered, she would endure.

She summoned White Pupil. Amid a surge of spiritual light, the giant crane descended, its hook-like talons settling on the rock. Its jade-like feathers lent it an immortal grace, elegant and poised.

Those pure white feathers looked so soft. Mu Qian Tan regretted not calling her out the night before. Sleeping on her would have been far better than the cold, unyielding cave floor.

White Pupil gazed down. Though its eyes were sightless and pale, they seemed to hold a watchful warmth, pouring forth an endless, gentle concern.

Almost without thinking, Mu Qian Tan reached out and stroked its soft, warm neck.

White Pupil dipped its head, gently nudging her palm.

In that instant, a powerful resonance surged through their connected touch—a deep, blood-deep bond.

A thought bloomed naturally in her mind: *She senses I’m unwell. She’s worried.*

Mu Qian Tan remembered then: this was no ordinary spirit crane, but this body’s blood sister.

*Wait…* She withdrew her hand, studying those milky white eyes. *A blood relative, nearly telepathic… Wouldn’t she realize I’m not her original sister?*

Li Biyuan chimed in, *Actually, I chose you because your nature is so similar to the Master’s. She hasn’t sensed any difference yet.*

Mu Qian Tan repeated, *Similar nature… The vicious supporting female character?*

Li Biyuan hurried to explain, *No, no! You’re both strikingly beautiful, clever and sharp, aloof to everyone, and both very… very…*

Mu Qian Tan cut in, *You shouldn’t be holding my heart; you should be holding my brain. Then you wouldn’t be so lost for words.*

Li Biyuan finished, *…Both brutally sharp-tongued.*

Urgent footsteps approached from behind—the culprit stomping extra hard to broadcast her foul mood.

Mu Qian Tan gestured downward. As White Pupil crouched and spread its wings, she carefully mounted, looking down at the tousle-haired girl. “Hurry up and get on. No dawdling.”

Shang Shan shot her a glare that could curdle milk before reluctantly starting to undo her belt. Just as it was half-loosened, the woman interjected, “No need to undress.”

“…” The girl muttered under her breath, “Weirdo.”

Three days later, White Pupil pierced through the Tianyu Sect’s mountain-protecting array, entering the sect’s territory.

The most renowned immortal sects were often the most secluded, favoring perilous and remote locations.

Proximity to untouched nature meant richer resources, aiding cultivation and refining one’s bearing. Distance from mortal crowds fostered an air of transcendence. Those touched by the “immortal” path generally shunned vulgar contact.

The Tianyu Sect, leader of the Five Great Immortal Sects, was nestled within the Tianyu Mountains. The scenery was breathtaking, blessed sites abundant, with jade towers and golden halls standing in majestic splendor.

Across the vast cerulean sky, sword-riders and spirit-beast mounts flashed by, each exuding an ethereal grace. Nurtured by the local energies, the natives here were notably fairer and more elegant in demeanor.

Shang Shan lay sprawled near the crane’s edge, eyes wide as she peered below, letting out soft “wows” at the sect’s immense scale, thrilled at the prospect of her future life here.

Beyond several verdant peaks, a vast plaza came into view, crowded with a dense, bustling throng—lively and grand.

Some event had clearly drawn the crowd. Who knew what it was.

A few looking skyward noticed the crane and waved. Shang Shan, ever drawn to excitement, waved back wildly, but the distance rendered them blurry, their words lost.

Eager to see what the fuss was about, Shang Shan hadn’t even voiced the thought before Mu Qian Tan urged White Pupil into a swift turn, veering sharply away from the masses.

The crowd blurred into a mere sea of color, soon replaced by an expanse of mirror-blue water, still as glass. Thin gray clouds hung overhead, casting a sunless, gloomy pall.

They had reached the coldest spot in the Tianyu Sect: the Narrow Sea.

Shang Shan deflated, flopping onto her back on the crane with a sigh.

She swung her little gold pouch, resisted for a moment, then gave in. “There were so many people down there. What do you think they were doing?”

A cold gust teased the wisps of hair at Mu Qian Tan’s temples. Scanning the horizon for the Azure Palace, she tossed back, “No idea.”

Shang Shan guessed, “A temple fair? A market?”

Mu Qian Tan scoffed. “Don’t project your petty mortal concepts onto immortal sects.”

Shang Shan huffed. “I bet you don’t know either.”

Mu Qian Tan brushed a bit of cloud fluff from White Pupil’s feathers, steering steadily.

The rhythmic beat of wings filled the air, accompanied by a melodious crane cry. Shang Shan kicked her legs idly. “Want to know how I know you don’t know?”

Mu Qian Tan said, “Be quiet.”

Shang Shan went on, “You’re terrible at talking to people. You probably have no friends, so no one ever tells you what fun things are happening.”

A glint of gold flashed within the expanse of blue below. Mu Qian Tan guided White Pupil into a descent; the haze sharpened into the towering form of a Golden Hall, its glazed white tiles serene atop the mountain peak, commanding a sweeping view.

White Pupil let out a high, clear cry as it alighted gently. The moment it touched down, Shang Shan sprang up—only to receive a sharp kick that sent her tumbling off like a ball.

She landed with a splash in a small pool below, sending water flying.

Mu Qian Tan, still atop the crane, channeled her spiritual power, recalling White Pupil back to the mark on her nape. As the crane vanished, she dropped gracefully to the ground, her skirt settling like drifting petals.

Shang Shan surfaced, dripping wet and livid. “You—again! Again with this!”

Mu Qian Tan shot her a sidelong glance, then turned and walked into the Golden Hall.

Freshly transmigrated and harried by system tasks, she hadn’t bothered to examine the interior before.

But given the original host’s fine robes, storage pouch full of spirit tools, and her title as Hall Master, she’d expected considerable wealth.

Her hopeful tour of the chambers, however, led only to growing disillusionment.

“Gilded shell, rotten core” fit perfectly: the exterior was opulent, but the inside was practically barren!

Skeptical, she made several loops, probing every possible nook—all in vain. Her hands remained empty.

Absolutely nothing of value? Did the original host carry everything on her person?

Fine, some things weren’t essential. But there wasn’t even a bed, nor any daily necessities—how was anyone supposed to live here?

Li Biyuan explained, *The Master was an ascetic. She shunned external distractions, focusing solely on heart-cultivation. Her life was austere, free of material desires.*

Mu Qian Tan retorted, *Heart-cultivation? What a waste of effort. All that, and she still ended up chasing a shortcut through sacrifice.*

Li Biyuan flipped through some pages and sighed. *People change.*

Giving up on the other rooms, Mu Qian Tan headed to the main hall. The high ceiling was nearly black in the dimness, with only the center emitting a soft glow.

*Proof that blindly toiling the body without insight is futile.*

She walked toward the light. *Putting on an act of being desireless while doing vile deeds… What’s the point of such false purity? Better to start as a villain—they say even the greatest sinner can become a Buddha the moment they lay down their blade.*

The source of the glow was a jade coffin, carved from what seemed like a millennia-old tree trunk, hewn smooth on six sides. It was large enough for two, adorned with dragon and phoenix carvings. The jade felt cool to the touch and looked incredibly valuable.

Li Biyuan said, *You complained about no bed? This is it.*

Mu Qian Tan, who had been mentally appraising the coffin’s worth, recoiled at the word “bed.” After a long pause, she asked, *The original host slept in this?*

Li Biyuan replied, *That’s what the book says.*

Mu Qian Tan couldn’t help a look of disgust. *Sleeping in a coffin every night? No wonder she didn’t last.*

Li Biyuan advised, *You could get another bed. This is a metaphysical world—it’s wise to be a little superstitious.*

Mu Qian Tan agreed. She turned to leave—but after two steps, she paused, turned back, and hoisted herself onto the coffin lid to lie down.

Li Biyuan sounded puzzled. *…Why are you back?*

*The Narrow Sea is too vast. Going out is inconvenient.* Mu Qian Tan shifted, finding a comfortable position. *Besides, I’m sleeping on the coffin lid, not inside it. That shouldn’t be unlucky.*

*Hmm…? Alright, make do for now then.*

Though made of jade, the coffin wasn’t uncomfortably hard—it felt more like a cool bamboo mat in summer. A faint chill seeped from it, soothing her muscles and easing her fatigue.

She hadn’t rested well in the mountain cave, and the journey had left her utterly exhausted. The moment Mu Qian Tan closed her eyes, she began drifting into a hazy slumber.

Just then, Li Biyuan spoke up again. *You’re going to sleep just like that? Aren’t you going to check on the Female Protagonist?*

Mu Qian Tan mumbled in response, “What’s it to me? The mountain is huge; let her run around. She can’t get off the Narrow Sea anyway…”

Having guided the Female Protagonist onto the immortal path and into apprenticeship, it was time to follow the main storyline. But the moment hadn’t arrived yet, and there was nothing for her to do. She rested easy and soon fell into a deep sleep.

She’d thought sleep after such exhaustion would be relaxing, but her tense spirit had clearly followed her into her dreams. The corpse of Liu He’s mother kept appearing before her eyes, painting the dreamscape in eerie, dark shades.

Blood spread across snow, its heat melting the flakes, tearing warm wounds into the pale expanse.

She remembered again those unseeing eyes, the body gradually losing its warmth, and the soft, pleading call: “Sister.”

Mu Qian Tan realized she was trapped in a nightmare. She tried to struggle free, to run, but the dream’s grip held her firmly to the coffin, preventing her from rising.

“Sister, sister…”

“Stop calling, stop…” she murmured, her voice suppressed, choked in her throat. “Don’t call…”

“Sister.” The girl in the dream lifted her gaze, her voice suddenly amplifying. “Don’t abandon me.”

Mu Qian Tan jerked upright.

Her heart hammered painfully against her ribs. The echo of the girl’s pleas still rang in her ears, her vision blurred with lingering afterimages. The hall was too dark; aside from the jade coffin’s glow, there was almost no light.

Mu Qian Tan was drenched in a cold sweat, her chest heaving. Her eyelashes fluttered as she fought to calm down.

That’s when her peripheral vision caught someone standing right beside her.

With the dream’s shadows still clinging to her sight and her heart racing, she couldn’t make out who it was before instinct took over. Her hand swung out, a surge of spiritual power blasting the figure away, sending them crashing hard into the hall’s wall.

A booming crash echoed as cracks spiderwebbed across the stone. Pebbles pattered down like rain.

Mu Qian Tan’s breathing finally slowed. She looked over.

A dark shape was nearly embedded in the shattered wall. Thin rays of sunlight leaked through the fissures, falling across the figure.

The girl seemed dazed, her face bathed in that fractured light as she slowly raised her head.

A moment later, realization dawned. Rage blazed in her eyes like kindled flame as she snarled, “I said… that was the last time!”