Chapter 74: Physical Training (Part 5): Heavens, I’m Illiterate Part 2

A figure flashed by the door, then again, before stopping to cling to the doorframe. It was that brain-damaged Shang Shan, poking in half her smiling face. “I’ve recently learned a movement technique called Wind-Chasing Lightning Step. It lets me run faster than a horse!”

Since their last argument, she hadn’t come to this room for a while, except for regularly tossing in chicken butts from the window every day, which Mu Qian Tan picked up and stuffed into her mouth.

Mu Qian Tan closed her fingers, dispersing the dagger back into Spiritual Power that drilled into her fingertips. She glanced at her. “So?”

Shang Shan said, “I run fast now, so it won’t be easy for you to hit me anymore.”

“Is that so?” Mu Qian Tan stood, circled behind the chair, and gripped the backrest. “Show me the effect. Go out and circle around before coming back.”

Shang Shan huffed, Spiritual Power surging underfoot as she flashed out like a shadow.

Mu Qian Tan hooked the chair leg with her foot, pulled and kicked it to the middle of the door. Shang Shan, flashing back from outside, crashed into the chair, tumbled head over heels, and rolled all the way to her like an overturned soy sauce jar.

She lifted her foot. The girl rolled right into it, her shoulder bumping her sole and stopping her. Still dizzy, Mu Qian Tan looked down and smiled. “Not that impressive, huh.”

“You!” Shang Shan shook her head. “Sneak attacking me, that’s too much!”

She jumped up and stormed out angrily.

Mu Qian Tan pulled the chair back and tucked it under the desk. About to go out for a stroll, she passed the courtyard and saw Xie Mei standing there with her luggage bundle, instructing Shang Shan on something.

Mu Qian Tan calculated the time and realized a month had passed—it was time to go down the mountain.

She returned to pack her things. By the time she reached the courtyard, Xie Mei had finished instructing and handed over a scroll. “I’ve written down all the techniques and progress Shang Shan learned this month in this scroll. You can check it anytime to fill in her gaps.”

This was overly attentive.

Mu Qian Tan glanced at the girl beside her. Shang Shan lifted her chin, refusing to look at her, indicating she was still angry.

Mu Qian Tan accepted the scroll, bowed in thanks to Xie Mei, and turned to leave. Shang Shan followed behind her, seemingly reluctant. She turned back three times for every three steps and finally waved. “Thank you! I’ll come find you to play again later!”

A smile appeared on Xie Mei’s face for the first time that month. “Focus on cultivation.”

Shang Shan said, “I will!”

After descending from Clarity Mountain, Mu Qian Tan slowed her pace considerably. The next hall master struck her as a bit off in the head, and face-to-face communication would surely drain her mentally.

Even at a snail’s pace, she eventually arrived at Shen Xin’s residence: Bone Mountain.

Bone Mountain was neither actual bone nor a true mountain. It sat amid a vast ocean of Red Spider Lily Sea, formed from enormous stones shaped like bones. Viewed from mid-air, it resembled a giant’s skeleton sprawled on the ground.

The shortest path led across a flat plain swaying with a sea of blood-red flowers. Under their reflection, even the sun was dyed red, the sky seemed to turn crimson, and only the skeleton remained stark white. Looming before the two was the giant’s ribcage reaching toward the sky—eerie and sinister, yet laced with a bewitching, lingering beauty.

Seeing such a scene for the first time, Shang Shan gaped in shock, her jaws clacking as she murmured, “Wow… Immortal Master Shen… really loves red.”

As if anticipating their arrival, a figure in white emerged from behind the ribs. It was Immortal Master Shen, her plain face unremarkable. She floated over to them, her eyes fixed on Mu Qian Tan with a chilling smile. “You’ve come?”

Her gaze drifted blatantly toward Mu Qian Tan’s chest, impossible to ignore. Mu Qian Tan shifted slightly to the side and reminded her, “Though I refused, the sect master still insisted you train me. This must be such a hassle for you.”

At the mention, Shen Xin lost interest immediately. She shook a scroll from her sleeve and tossed it over casually. “Just follow this to train. I’ll have someone watch you.”

She emphasized the last sentence.

Mu Qian Tan caught the scroll, an ominous feeling rising in her heart. Unfurling it confirmed her fears: the training methods were outrageously excessive, far more perverse than Xie Mei’s, as if scribbled without a second thought. The edges even bore a rough sketch of a heart.

Compared to this training, something more obvious was preferable.

With a snap, Mu Qian Tan closed the scroll and stated bluntly, “The intensity is too high. This isn’t reasonable.”

Shen Xin seemed mildly surprised. “Hm? Really? This is my disciple’s training load. I thought you’d find it insufficient.”

In the embrace of the ribs behind her stood several black-robed youths remotely, their appearances, attire, and expressions identical as if copy-pasted. All wore black hats and boots, one hand clutching a scroll, the other a pen, gathered around a long table. They all looked up, their faces pallid and deathly, shrouded in a greenish pallor, rigid and cold. These must have been her disciples.

None of them looked quite right.

There was no way she would train like this. Completing it would kill her. But how could she admit to being inferior even to her copy-paste disciples?

Dodging it by redirecting fire to the Brain-Damaged Dragon wouldn’t work anymore. This pervert was nothing like Xie Mei; from the moment they met, she hadn’t spared Shang Shan a single glance, clearly uninterested in her.

It seemed she had no choice but to handle it herself!

After pondering for a moment, Mu Qian Tan said, “Regarding the heart matter you mentioned last time, I’ve had doubts since returning. I don’t understand how it could shatter like that yet still function safely. Training isn’t important right now. Could you examine my heart? As for the training…”

“Sure!” Shen Xin exclaimed with ecstatic joy.

Mu Qian Tan had meant to assure her that training wouldn’t be delayed, defying the sect master’s order, but before she could finish, Shen Xin agreed decisively. Clearly, she didn’t care at all.

Shen Xin beamed again and extended her hand. “Come on, come on. You’re You Menglian, right? Time is precious. Let’s have a heart-to-heart talk!”

“…No.”

Wrong person, wrong order. Mu Qian Tan thought this woman merely spaced out, but her brain had truly floated into outer space? She couldn’t even recognize her own colleague.

Being mistaken for that dog thing was bad luck!

“Sorry, my memory’s not great. You’re Jiang Zhouyao, right?”

“…”

She was dragged into the ribcage, the overwhelming bloody stench instantly turning her face green, as if she’d been dunked in a blood pool. The slick, rusty odor seeped everywhere. Mu Qian Tan squinted and vaguely made out a mound of indistinct bloody flesh piled on the disciples’ long table, alongside a plate of intestines writhing and unfurling.

Her stomach churned violently. She waved her hands repeatedly. “Immortal Master Shen! Let’s change locations. This place is just…”

“Too beautiful?” Shen Xin asked.

Mu Qian Tan was brutally honest. “Too disgusting.”

Shen Xin looked displeased, but considering it was her first visit, she relented and led her to the pelvis instead. “It’s nice and quiet here. You’ll like it?”

The pelvis was no better than the ribs, but at least there were no revolting flesh piles. Only several iron beds, some empty, some occupied by shrouded figures—it was unclear if they were dead or alive. The air still reeked, an indescribable mix of nauseating odors.

Mu Qian Tan faintly regretted coming, but this short, unassuming woman possessed surprising strength, dragging her straight to a bed and pressing her down. As she reached for rope to bind her, Mu Qian Tan jolted awake. “What are you doing?”

Shen Xin looked sheepish. “Ran out of mafeisan. Have to use this.”

“??” Mu Qian Tan scrambled up. “Immortal Master Shen, let’s be clear: I won’t accept knives or harm. If you want to diagnose me, respect my wishes. Otherwise, I’ll go to the sect master. We shouldn’t let it come to that.”

At “sect master,” Shen Xin’s expression softened. After a pause, she regretfully set the rope aside. “Of course. As you wish.”

Shen Xin probed her entire body with spiritual power, leaving Mu Qian Tan utterly exhausted upon returning to her lodging.

To show respect, Shen Xin offered her most prized skull for lodging. Mu Qian Tan stared silently at the massive two-story-tall skull before her.

At least the interior was somewhat normal, aside from the retina carpet and capillary bedframe—nothing too otherworldly.

Shang Shan was crouched by the tooth-wood cabinet tinkering when she returned. She huffed, turning her head away to show she was still angry.

Mu Qian Tan ignored her, washed up simply, and went to bed.

Staring at Shen Xin’s white robes too long was harsher on the eyes than a lightbulb. Rubbing her eyes, she sank into the bedding, bone-tired, and drifted off in a haze.

Unable to wait for her to speak first, Shang Shan huffed again and glanced at the bed. Seeing the woman apparently asleep, she gnashed her teeth at the cabinet.

After gnawing for a while, she stood, walked to the bedside, and tucked her in.

In the human skeleton, training space was severely limited. Everywhere led to those bizarre disciples or shapeless bloody messes, and outside loomed the ominous Red Sea. Unwilling to venture out, she stayed active inside the skull.

Time passed unusually fast in Bone Mountain; days and nights blurred. Aside from daily body checks by Shen Xin, training, meals, and sleep, there was nothing else. Mu Qian Tan even forgot that New Year’s was approaching.

That day, she returned as usual to find Shang Shan absent. Mu Qian Tan glanced around casually and went to bathe in the cranium. When she returned with a towel over her wet hair, Shang Shan was back, sitting on the retina carpet clipping something.

Mu Qian Tan sat on the bed’s edge, tilting her head to drape her wet hair to one side, slowly toweling it from top to bottom. She glanced at what the Brain-Damaged Dragon was doing.

Several red paper sheets lay between the girl’s legs; she held one, snipping away with crisp sounds, fragments fluttering like snowflakes.

With the final snip, Shang Shan inspected the result, deemed it ruined, set it aside, and grabbed fresh paper, frustratedly thumping her head.

After a moment, she glanced back. “Master, how do you write the Fu character?”

She immediately averted her gaze, showing only the back of her head to the woman.

Mu Qian Tan combed her long hair with her fingers, eyes downcast. “You can’t even write such a simple character.”

Shang Shan said, “I just forgot suddenly! Show me once, and I’ll get it.”

Mu Qian Tan set the towel aside and lay down. “Going to sleep. Don’t bother me.”

Shang Shan shot her a look, ground her teeth, and attacked the red paper again.

She occasionally forgot characters mid-stroke, but this time was especially bad; she never recalled how to write “Fu.”

Fortunately, she was clever enough to think of another auspicious character nearly as good. Delighted, she clipped it finished and climbed the skull overnight to paste it up.

Returning, Shang Shan rolled to the bed’s edge, whispering slyly, “Flapping Moth, Happy New Year.” She then burrowed into the covers, as if to separate herself from that cold, heartless woman.

Mu Qian Tan wasn’t asleep. Hearing that “Happy New Year”—loud enough to be heard yet hushed—made her suddenly realize it was New Year’s.

So different from usual, with no reminders, she’d naturally forgotten this once-cherished holiday.

No wonder the Brain-Damaged Dragon had asked about the Fu character.

Her long hair still slightly damp, emitting a crisp scent like soap, evoked memories of the cramped bathroom at home and the smell at her nose when washing her little sister’s hair.

Mu Qian Tan turned toward the wall, hugging the quilt.

She wondered how her sister was spending this year.

Would she cry, wanting her big sister?

In the darkness, Mu Qian Tan’s eyes flickered like stars, glowing faintly until her lids covered them, plunging everything into shadow.

No plans to return anyway. Best not to dwell. Let it go.

She fell asleep.

The next morning, Mu Qian Tan rose as usual to see Shen Xin. Exiting the skull’s mouth, she recalled that Shang Shan never remembered the Fu character and wondered how she’d handled it. She looked up to check for red paper on the forehead.

There it was, glaringly obvious—a small red patch on the brow. But the shape wasn’t “Fu”; it was another familiar character.

Mu Qian Tan leaned closer for a better look. Recognizing it nearly blacked out her vision.

Right at the center of the massive skull’s forehead sat a perfectly placed Double Happiness character.