Chapter 77: Physical Training (Part 8): There’s Something Weird in My Head!

As if she had never expected such words to be used on herself, Mu Qian Tan’s head felt like it had been struck, the shock traveling from her scalp to her toes with a buzzing echo that lingered for a long time. She froze for a moment, then quickly looked back.

Behind her, Shang Shan was squatting on the bamboo mat bed, crunching away at the scavenged frozen grapes. She had been grinning and watching the spectacle, but upon hearing Jiang Zhouyao’s words, her smile froze, her mouth stuck mid-chew on the ice, and a bunch of frozen grapes tumbled onto the bed. Her face went completely blank with shock.

The woman’s cold gaze was like a bucket of icy water dumped over her head, making Shang Shan shiver uncontrollably. She tucked her hands into her wide sleeves and shrank her neck. “It’ll… get stabbed…”

Just the words “hold down” alone made her suddenly recall not long ago, when the Old Smoky Ghost Hall Master had pinned her master to the ground, and her master, with a cold and merciless face covered in bloody tears, had stabbed several times in terror—the image was etched deeply in her heart, impossible to erase, and she dared not provoke it.

Her voice was soft, and Jiang Zhouyao did not hear it, or perhaps heard but did not believe. Her hand was already pressing on the woman’s leg, and with a gentle smile, she pressed down.

Though they were slender fingers, they clamped like iron shackles, immovable, kneading the legs one by one. From the waist down, it felt like being struck by lightning; Mu Qian Tan’s spine tingled in waves until she finally couldn’t hold out and collapsed backward. The back of her head knocked against the bed with a thud.

Shang Shan let out a surprised “Eh,” and frowned, as if it were her own head that had been knocked.

She wanted to pull her legs free, but they wouldn’t budge at all. She could only endure the increasingly intense sour, numb, stabbing pain that gradually consumed her legs. Mu Qian Tan trembled all over, rolling to her side and grabbing the nearest thing at hand. A string of faint pain-filled groans squeezed from her throat. But in the end, she couldn’t hold back and broke down. “Feng Ling Immortal!”

Jiang Zhouyao said softly, “It’ll be over soon.”

Her entire nervous system felt like it was exploding. Though she desperately wanted to curse, Mu Qian Tan unusually clamped her lips shut. It was that last shred of reason making her choose to protect her image, lest she couldn’t endure later and end up crying and wailing in front of her friend and disciple—that would be too embarrassing.

She still needed to save face; absolutely not!

As she collapsed, she had landed right next to Shang Shan, so the thing she grabbed was the girl’s clothing hem. Because she gripped too hard, the hem was nearly torn apart, emitting the taut strain of fabric struggling. Yet Shang Shan could only hear those suppressed groans of pain.

She didn’t look at this family heirloom she usually cherished doubly, but instead lowered her head to gaze at the woman. Her eyes slowly widened, bright and clear, her expression complex—as if she couldn’t comprehend, wanted to help but didn’t know how. Or as if deeply captivated, trying to look away but nailed in place.

The woman lay sideways on the bed, clutching her clothing hem tightly, her face pale, brows furrowed in panting gasps, her neck flushed red with fine veins bulging from the skin. Her ink-black long hair scattered open, mixed with a few deep purple frozen grapes. Clearly in extreme pain, yet there was also an indescribable tenderness to it.

Shang Shan was bewitched, dazed and mesmerized, reaching out to press the woman’s wrist. Her palm met a layer of thin sweat, soft as if melting away, hot enough to nearly burn her.

She mumbled, “You… loosen up a bit, your nails.” Finally tearing her gaze away, she glanced sideways to see the woman’s nails nearly splitting the clothes. “Your nails are hurting you. Or pinch me instead… Ah!”

She hadn’t expected her to pinch right away, as if trying to twist off a chunk of flesh. Shang Shan’s mind went blank, all her jumbled thoughts turning into deflating balloons flying away. Her hand was bruised purple and even bleeding, so Mu Qian Tan didn’t cry out—instead, it was her turn to scream, wailing as if dying, echoing through the sky.

When this farce ended, Mu Qian Tan lay on the bed, staring blankly at the sky. Shang Shan blew fiercely on her mangled hands, full of grievance. “Master, you went too hard!”

Mu Qian Tan repeated, “Feng Ling Immortal, you went too hard.”

Jiang Zhouyao brought dinner to the table—all freshly made and kept warm in the pot, so it was still steaming hot with rich aromas. Hearing this, she chuckled lightly. “I made your favorite dishes today. Not eating now?”

Mu Qian Tan propped herself up, helpless. “Feng Ling, if it’s like this every day from now on, I’m going to run away.”

She was strengthening her physique to live longer, not die sooner.

Jiang Zhouyao distributed chopsticks. “Why say such things? I’m doing this for your own good.”

Shang Shan said, “My hands, my hands!”

Mu Qian Tan said, “Your good intentions are too heavy; I can’t bear them.”

Jiang Zhouyao said, “I chilled some watermelon in the jar.”

She had made many dishes, filling the table with plates edge to edge, no gaps between them, each piled full, colorful, fragrant, and appetizing, stirring the appetite.

Mu Qian Tan endured again and again, but her hunger proved harder to bear than the pain. She sat up, propping herself on the bed’s edge to reach the table, and sighed. “Men die for wealth, just as birds die for food.”

“Wanting to fill your belly isn’t wrong at all.” Jiang Zhouyao handed her chopsticks, then went back inside to fetch the medicine kit. She bandaged Shang Shan’s horrific hands, held the girl’s fingertips and examined them left and right, then laughed. “Looks like I really did go quite hard.”

Mu Qian Tan picked up a crisp piece of stem lettuce. “You definitely did it on purpose.”

Jiang Zhouyao said, “Seems like it.”

Mu Qian Tan said, “You admit it?”

“Grapes don’t ripen easily. Besides, I didn’t expect Yao’e Immortal’s body to be so fragile.”

Mu Qian Tan’s voice was hoarse. “…I remember when we first met, Feng Ling Immortal was very kind.”

She finally saw it—this woman was just like her own little brother, a smiling tiger!

Jiang Zhouyao smiled faintly. “You can’t judge a book by its cover.”

Though she had been tormented thoroughly, the other party truly meant well, with sound reasons that left no room for complaint. And she had provoked first, plus freeloading meals. Mu Qian Tan could only swallow her anger and resolve to eat more.

Just eating on her own wouldn’t bankrupt this woman, so she pulled out the disciple sacrifice technique.

“Shang Shan,” she said to the side, “this month, eat as much as you can, don’t hold back. Eat it all—the flowers, grasses, mountain birds, fish, insects, don’t spare any. Eat Cliff Mountain bald.”

Shang Shan had just sat down and raised her gauze-wrapped hands indignantly. “Look at my hands; I can’t even hold chopsticks, can’t eat!”

Mu Qian Tan pretended not to see.

Seeing her ignored, Shang Shan got angry and shoved her hands under Mu Qian Tan’s nose. “Apologize; you hurt me.”

One finger pushed those hands away. Mu Qian Tan shook back her sleeve, revealing the red mark on her wrist. “Isn’t this from you?”

It was from earlier when Shang Shan had gripped her wrist. Shang Shan admitted, “It was me, but…”

Mu Qian Tan said, “Didn’t you hurt me too?”

Shang Shan struggled. “Yes, but…”

“And you hurt me first, so I hurt you back. Everything has a cause and effect, order matters—do you understand?”

“I understand.”

“The one who caused this is you, so who should apologize?”

Shang Shan scrunched her little face. “Me…?”

Mu Qian Tan said, “Yes, you.”

The honest Shang Shan always felt something off, but still guiltily said, “Sorry.”

Mu Qian Tan sincerely patted her shoulder. “It’s fine; I forgive you.”

Jiang Zhouyao, who had watched the whole thing, slowly clapped. “Well argued, Immortal.”

Mu Qian Tan said, “No commentary from the audience.”

Jiang Zhouyao smiled and turned to ask, “Really can’t hold chopsticks? Want me to get you a spoon?”

Shang Shan, disabled but determined, picked up the chopsticks. “I can manage; thanks, Immortal.”

In the lively bustle, the sun sank in the west, its afterglow burning the last of its heat, dyeing the world gold like raging flames. Even in ten million years, Cliff Mountain would still have such magnificent sunsets.

Mu Qian Tan gazed into the distance, her face gradually darkening with the fading light. Fireflies danced in the grass, like stars fallen from the sky hopping about.

Jiang Zhouyao also finished watching the sunset and said softly, “I wonder where A’He is; no letter yet.”

Mu Qian Tan came back to herself slightly. “That’s good, at least no bad news.”

Jiang Zhouyao said, “No, precisely because she ran into something, she doesn’t want to write. That child wouldn’t lie to me, not even in letters. If the journey was smooth, she would’ve sent word long ago. No word means it’s not smooth.”

Mentioning Qin He’s journey abroad inevitably recalled the reason for her departure, which involved Mu Qian Tan, so she said nothing more on the topic and took a sip of rice wine.

Jiang Zhouyao belatedly realized this too, clinked her rice wine cup against Mu Qian Tan’s, and changed the subject. “A’He hasn’t written, but that Fu Clan kid sent plenty.”

“Fu Li?”

“Yes.”

“She’s quite attached to you.”

“That child was raised strictly; it’s rare for her to get out. Finding it relaxed here, it’s normal she’d like it.”

“Probably.”

Mentioning her villain BOSS daughter’s friend left Mu Qian Tan with little to say, so she took another sip of rice wine.

Meanwhile, Shang Shan buried her head in eating, limited by her injured hands, managing only half the plates before huffing and holding her hands, wanting watermelon. Jiang Zhouyao pointed out the water jar’s location. She slid off the stool and dashed over, first bringing a plate of pre-cut pieces to the table for the two adults, then hugging a whole watermelon back.

The deep green watermelon was bigger than her head. Shang Shan patted it, hearing a crisp sound, wiped the surface water clean, then buried her face in and took a huge bite, tearing open the thin rind to reveal the red flesh.

Mu Qian Tan couldn’t bear to watch. “You know how to cut it, so why eat it like that? What does it look like?”

In the span of one sentence, a huge gash appeared on the watermelon, Shang Shan’s mouth rimmed red. “Eating like this is so satisfying.”

Mu Qian Tan pinched a slice from the plate. “Letting others see the joke every day.”

Jiang Zhouyao laughed. “I think she’s pretty interesting.”

Mu Qian Tan took a small bite of the melon tip, swallowed, and shook her head. “Hopelessly silly.”

“Cultivation requires a mind free of distractions; this child is pure by nature, perfect material for seeking immortality. I heard she progresses extremely fast.” Jiang Zhouyao set down her chopsticks, wiped her hands with a square cloth, and observed the girl. “Where’s she at now?”

Mu Qian Tan gripped the girl’s shoulder and urged the spiritual power in her body, causing a faint golden glow to envelop her. “Just short of trunk, then she’ll cross the threshold.”

A cold flow drilled in from the shoulder. Shang Shan immediately tensed, her suddenly heightened senses letting her hear the insects in the grass, see the slight damage on the watermelon rind, smell the fresh grape scent in the air, and feel the woman’s warm-cool fingers on her shoulder.

That hand gripped her; even without looking, she could imagine the jade-like fingers tightly clutching the black fabric. Just like that afternoon, the woman’s hand and wrist tensed after grabbing the hem, pale skin underlaid with faint purple veins…

“Ah!” Shang Shan’s cheeks flushed red, and she yelled. “There’s something weird in my head! Something strange!”

Her head spun dizzily, thinking she was sick. She broke free of the woman’s hand and plunged her head into the watermelon, eating ferociously to calm down.

“…” Mu Qian Tan shook her hand. “You’re weird enough yourself.”

Shang Shan couldn’t hear, like a mole rat with her whole head nearly buried in the watermelon, completely cut off from the world. Jiang Zhouyao laughed heartily. “Such vitality.”

After washing her face with watermelon juice, she clearly calmed down. Shang Shan pulled her head out, face red and white, doll-like in her cuteness. She blanked out for a bit, then said, “Right, I’m still short of trunk.”

She was echoing her master’s words. After saying it, she blanked again, then her eyes lit up. “Oh yeah, Master, in a month… no, two months, I have to go to Pot City. I promised a friend to see a show. Come with me, okay? I want you to go too.”

Mu Qian Tan sipped her rice wine. “Mm.”

She had thought it’d take a lot of persuading for this hard-to-convince master to agree, but unexpectedly, she assented right away. Shang Shan was overjoyed. “Great! Great! I love you, Master!”

Mu Qian Tan pulled a square cloth from her sleeve and flung it at her face. “Wipe yourself.”

She agreed so readily because this was original plot anyway—Shang Shan went to Pot City for her friend’s show, ultimately unlocking trunk and awakening her bloodline. Mu Qian Tan just casually agreed.

Shang Shan happily took the cloth, wiped her face clean, folded it neatly and clutched it, planning to wash it later. She swung her legs on the chair, gesticulating excitedly, chattering nonstop about how great it was, thanks, I like you. Mu Qian Tan, annoyed beyond endurance, shoved her head back into the watermelon.

Jiang Zhouyao laughed, one hand over her lips, telling her to watch out and not cause a death. Mu Qian Tan insisted this one wouldn’t die so easily. Only Shang Shan, having eaten the whole watermelon empty, clutched the cloth in hand, still thinking of washing it.

Under the starry sky, laughter continued until late into the night.