Chapter 86: The Promise-Breaker (Part 5): Teacher Like Mother

Who would knock on the door while crawling? Was it someone with crippled legs, or was the knocker not human at all?

The image of that Clay Little Demon rolling down the street during the day suddenly flashed through her mind. If it had been that thing, it was not even knee-high, and this knocking height was just right. But had not the Demon-Exorcising Little Immortal taken it away?

Shang Shan squatted down by the bed, alertly eyeing the door panels. Rustling sounds suddenly came from behind her. She turned to look and saw her master sitting up on the bed, tying her long hair back with a hairband. Her expression was slightly irritated but lacked the vigilance one should have toward unknown dangers. It seemed it was not anything particularly strange.

She had nearly forgotten the plot amid all the cursing. Tonight was destined to be a sleepless night. Mu Qian Tan mourned the loss of her sleep as she bit one end of the hairband, freed a hand to throw off the quilt, and let the hairband drift from her mouth. She raised her chin. “What are you standing around for? Go open the door.”

Shang Shan snapped back to attention, acknowledged the order, and went to open the door. It was already deep into the night. Music and laughter still drifted in from outside the window, but no one passed through the corridor, leaving it relatively quiet. The door let out a long, drawn-out creak as it opened, grating harshly in the empty corridor and the room.

She finally pulled the door open to a gap wide enough for one person. Shang Shan looked down and saw a slender, perfectly proportioned white porcelain bottle standing on the dark brown floor.

“Hmm?”

Just a single bottle stood outside, which naturally aroused suspicion. Shang Shan stuck her head through the gap and looked both ways. No one was around.

At that moment, the porcelain bottle suddenly hopped once, then flipped forward over the threshold. It rolled past her feet with a gurgle, spun rapidly inside the room a few times, and abruptly righted itself. What a slick and nimble bottle.

This thing could move on its own!

So it must have been the one knocking earlier. No wonder it made that kind of sound.

Shang Shan closed the door and asked doubtfully, “Master, what is this?”

Mu Qian Tan glanced at it as she sat on the edge of the bed and straightened her sleeves. “A bottle.”

Shang Shan said, “No, I mean…”

Mu Qian Tan said, “A kind of slender wine pot.”

Shang Shan said, “I know it’s a wine pot, but more importantly, it seems like…”

The bottle suddenly jumped up and clacked onto the floor. As if the impact had jarred loose something inside, a thin wisp of green smoke sprayed from the bottle mouth.

Thinking it was about to attack, Shang Shan let out a surprised sound and instinctively shielded her face with both hands. Peering through the gap between her arms, she watched the green smoke gradually condense into a humanoid form with a head, arms, and trunk that tapered into a wisp below the waist, reentering the bottle. It floated idly with no gloomy aura—instead, it brimmed with vitality as it waved a hand.

In the dead of night, a strand of green smoke dwelling in a bottle burst into their room to say hello. It was all too bizarre. Yet it showed no hostility and even looked a bit silly with its hands and waist flailing together. Shang Shan instinctively sensed it posed no threat and waved back. “Are you looking for us?”

The green smoke nodded vigorously, nearly snapping its neck. Shang Shan said, “Can you speak?”

“It’s a ghost. It needs a special method to take form.” Mu Qian Tan opened her Storage Pouch and took out several tools. She had used this manifestation technique on the Liu Family people when she first entered this world; by now, she handled it with ease. In short order, a cyan-green soul appeared atop the bottle.

It was a girl of about eleven or twelve, right in the innocent and lively age, with round eyes and chubby cheeks. She wore coarse cloth garments, and her long hair had been shaved off, revealing a cyan scalp. She was a little baldy. She stretched lazily, and two inverted characters were carved into the center of her smooth forehead: God-Slaying.

Realizing she had taken form, Little Baldy flipped in midair, clapped gleefully, cheered, and then bowed at the waist. “Thank you, Blue Immortal Fairy Sister, for saving my life.”

The bow was directed at Shang Shan, leaving the girl stunned. “Saving my life? When?” She did not remember rescuing this little girl. And what was this Blue Immortal Fairy?

The round-faced Little Baldy recounted vividly, “It was during the day, on the street. Blue Sister, you swooped down from the sky with a whoosh, blocked that Clay Little Demon, and saved me!”

She had indeed saved someone, but Shang Shan remembered it as a human child—quite different from this bottle-dweller. Still, she asked, “Oh… were you that child?”

“No no no, you misunderstood.” Little Baldy shook her head vigorously and pointed at herself. “The one the Clay Little Demon was chasing was me. Halfway through, the Smug Little Immortal spotted it. I fled for my life, and it fled too. That child was just an innocent bystander caught up in it!”

So before the Demon-Exorcising Little Immortal chased down that one-eyed Clay Little Demon, it had been pursuing this Little Baldy in the bottle. And the so-called rescue had been pure coincidence. Shang Shan widened her eyes slightly. “So that’s how it was.”

Little Baldy clasped her hands together and bowed again. “So, thank you, Blue Sister, for saving my life.”

Her thanks came in a child’s crisp, bright voice, and her smile bloomed like a little flower—utterly adorable. Shang Shan smiled too and waved her off repeatedly. “I’m not Blue Sister. My name is Shang Shan. And it doesn’t really count as me saving you. I only stepped in at the last moment. You should thank the Demon-Exorcising Little Immortal.”

To her surprise, Little Baldy crossed her arms and shook her head. “I don’t like that Smug Little Immortal. And I hate the Pot God on his head even more!”

The commoners had shown both reverence and fear toward immortals during the daytime standoff with that little immortal. And everyone received a Pot God Protective Talisman upon entering the city gates. These facts attested to the locals’ steadfast faith. Yet she claimed not to like it—and hated the Pot God to boot. It was surprising.

Shang Shan glanced at her master on the bed, hoping to exchange thoughts, but seeing her utter indifference, she gave up and turned back. Like coaxing a child, she asked, “Why is that?”

Little Baldy jabbed at the center of her forehead and declared resoundingly, “Because I want to slay gods!”

The spot bore the two characters “God-Slaying,” reversed left-to-right like a mirror or water reflection. Each character claimed half her forehead, every stroke etched deep into the bone with concentrated hatred. Healed over, they formed glaring white scars like exposed bone.

Ghosts retained their deathbed appearance. This child was so young—she should have been carefree—yet she had carved those words so cruelly into her own head before dying. What grudge could she possibly hold against the Pot God to require such a brutal reminder?

Had the Pot God trapped her now in this bottle as a mere ghost soul?

If that guess held, for this so-called Pot God to target a mortal child, it would make the deity an evil god. The common folk of the city would be in grave danger! Shang Shan said gravely at once, “Did the god harm you?”

At the question, Little Baldy scratched her cheek. “I don’t remember how I died.”

Shang Shan froze. “You don’t remember? Then why do you hate it?”

Little Baldy said, “I don’t hate anything. I just promised a friend we’d kill our way to the Heavenly Palace together and overthrow the heavenly gods. We made that pact long ago.”

Shang Shan latched onto one word instantly. She swallowed and said, “Why are you in that bottle?”

Little Baldy patted her illusory garments. “I drifted outside too long and grew weaker and weaker. Now I can only cling to life by residing in this bottle.”

Shang Shan said, “You’re this weak—just a ghost soul, unable even to defend yourself—yet you still plan to honor that promise?”

Any passing immortal could scatter her to the winds, yet she dared proclaim god-slaying! How absurd. How brave! Yet Little Baldy replied as if it were obvious. “A promise is worth a thousand gold. No matter what I’ve become, as long as I haven’t vanished, I have to keep my word!”

The girl’s clear voice echoed in Shang Shan’s ears, perfectly mirroring her own beliefs. It was as if she had found a kindred spirit—her heart trembled long after. She pursed her lips, points of light gathering in her eyes until they formed a glow. Moments later, she waved her hand and shouted, “Right! Exactly! That’s how it should be!”

The shout made Mu Qian Tan’s eardrums twinge. She shut her eyes, about to tell the stupid dragon to pipe down, when Little Baldy shouted too. “So I came to find you!”

Mu Qian Tan: “…”

Shang Shan’s head swam with heat. Still not grasping the connection, she responded on instinct. “So you came to find me!”

She blinked, paused a beat, and said, “Why?”

“It’s been so long since I last saw the friend I made that promise with. I can’t find her anywhere. And I can feel I don’t have much time left before I dissipate—I can’t go many places anymore. So I have to ask someone else for help…”

Little Baldy looked sad, rubbed her eyes, and clasped her hands. “I didn’t dare approach the visiting immortals or the Demon-Exorcising Little Immortal. You saved me today, and I loved what you said. So I got bold and wanted to ask… Immortal Fairy Sister, could you help me find my friend!”

Pot City was a mortal city, after all. Nine in ten visitors were ordinary folk who could not aid a ghost. The rare immortals who spotted a moving bottle would treat it as an evil object and destroy it on sight. As for the Demon-Exorcising Little Immortal, approaching him with “God-Slaying” on her forehead meant swift death.

Shang Shan had not killed the Clay Little Demon right away that afternoon when she caught it. Blended into the crowd, Little Baldy had watched and deemed her trustworthy. She followed them here on a gamble.

Little Baldy pleaded earnestly. “I’ve scoured every street in Pot City, but I can’t find any trace of her. What if she forgot our promise? Does she even remember that first vow? I want to find her. I want to ask her.”

The word “promise” plucked at Shang Shan’s heartstrings like fingers on strings. In moments, she said solemnly, “Good. I’ll help you find her. A promise is worth a thousand gold!”

No sooner had she spoken than knocking came again—this time at normal height—accompanied by a girl’s soft whisper. “Shan Big Sis, are you asleep?”

She had thought the afternoon nickname was just banter, yet here she was using it for real. The somewhat mature title sat oddly on someone not much older. Mu Qian Tan’s brows stayed furrowed. Shang Shan took it in stride and opened the door. “Not yet.”

Tan Que stood outside, gnawing on a sweet potato strip. “I heard you yelling from my room just now and came to check.”

Shang Shan gripped the door and whispered, “Did I wake you? Sorry.”

“No,” Tan Que shook her head. “I was worried you might do something foolish. Good you’re okay. Want a sweet potato strip?”

Ever since they left Playdream Pavilion, Tan Que had stuck close—joining her for fun, food, and drink, even keeping an ear out at night. Clearly, she worried Shang Shan might feel down after hitting a wall and do something rash. Warmth bloomed in Shang Shan’s heart. She smiled. “Sure.”

She took a few strips. Tan Que craned her neck to peer inside. “Why aren’t you asleep?”

Shang Shan stepped aside to let her in. “Come take a look.”

Tan Que entered the room. She first spotted the woman with her indifferent expression seated on the bed’s edge, shrank her shoulders, and said, “Greetings, Upper Immortal.” After a soft “Mm” in reply, she dared glance at the floor. There stood a bottle in the middle, a Little Baldy popping out to wave hello. Tan Que said curiously, “What’s this?”

Shang Shan said, “Sit down first.”

The two sat cross-legged around the bottle. Shang Shan recounted everything from the knocking to her recent promise. Tan Que grew more astonished with every word and exclaimed, “Something like that? Count me in—I’ll help look too!”

Another ear-rattling shout. Mu Qian Tan leaned against the bedhead and belatedly realized she shared a room with three children. It was hellish—worse than the zoo.

Her offer to help was a good thing. But Shang Shan remembered she had come here to have fun, only for her own troubles to keep holding her back. Feeling guilty, she said, “No need. Go enjoy yourself.”

Tan Que thumped her chest. “Fun’s secondary. Being with you matters more. Besides, Baldy—you’re a ghost, yet you dare talk god-slaying. What courage. I admire you.”

Little Baldy lifted her chin. “I’m not called Baldy.”

Tan Que said, “Then what’s your name?”

Little Baldy hemmed and hawed, then sighed. “I used to have a name. But I can’t remember it now.”

She remembered neither her death nor her name. Without those vital details, she was a true stray ghost—nearly impossible to trace.

Mu Qian Tan listened and lightly tapped her knee.

If it had been her, she would have dropped the matter the moment she learned this, promise or no. It wasted time and effort for no gain, with no guaranteed result. And they aimed to slay gods to boot. Success was one thing; failure meant offending the local deity. For a mere ghost soul, inviting a potentially mighty foe? Hardly worth it.

Unfortunately, that Stupid Dragon wouldn’t delve into these details at all. She just liked doing such hot-blooded things that offered no returns.

Oh, of course, the protagonist’s starting point of not seeking returns always earned the author-arranged rich rewards.

Over there, Shang Shan pondered after hearing this. “Do you know the name of that friend you’re looking for?”

Little Baldy shook her head. Shang Shan asked again, “What else do you remember?”

She realized right after asking that Little Baldy probably only remembered the promise to go to the God-Slaying.

Without remembering the name, she naturally wouldn’t remember her friend’s appearance either. With no information at all, finding that person was no different from a needle in a haystack.

This was truly tricky.

Shang Shan quietly glanced toward the bedside.

When she encountered difficult problems in the past, she would try to find alternative paths and countermeasures. But after meeting her master, she always wanted to ask that woman first.

From the Liu Family to Prosperous Joy, and all the events afterward, it seemed there was no problem that woman couldn’t solve, no principle she didn’t understand. No matter how complex the matter, it became clear and easy to grasp in her hands. As a result, Shang Shan had developed the habit of seeking her out first whenever something came up—even if she knew the answer and what to do, she still needed to ask her once to feel at ease.

It was as if that woman’s affirmation mattered more than getting the correct result directly herself.

Perhaps her gaze lingered too long, but that woman turned her head and looked over. She rose and walked a few steps toward them, her voice as cold and majestic as ever. “Where did you get to?”

Shang Shan thought she hadn’t been listening and hurriedly explained everything. Mu Qian Tan said, “So how do you plan to find her?”

The candlelight flickered faintly by that woman’s side. She didn’t blame Shang Shan for meddling, and even took the initiative to ask. Shang Shan looked up at her, heart pounding. “I want… to draw this girl’s face, then go around asking if anyone recognizes her. First find out who she is, then go look for her friend.”

It was the middle of the night now, so they couldn’t go knocking on doors with a ghost in tow—ordinary people had low tolerance for such evil things. But during the day, ghosts needed to hide, and Little Baldy would have to shrink into the bottle and couldn’t come out to be seen.

The best method, then, was to draw her and go to crowded places to ask around and gather information. The city was large, but still just a city. Given enough time, they would surely hear something.

Mu Qian Tan nodded. “Do you know how to draw?”

Shang Shan snapped to attention. Right—she didn’t know how to draw.

What to do!

Mu Qian Tan pondered as well.

Up to this point, everything had still followed the original plot. The part about drawing the ghost was something the Male Protagonist did next. He often dealt with ghosts and was skilled at such neither-yin-nor-yang tasks. But now the Male Protagonist wasn’t here, and she had to step up instead. She’d learned some sketching as a child, but it had been over ten years since she’d touched a brush.

To draw well enough for others to recognize who it was required extremely high skill, which she definitely couldn’t achieve.

Mu Qian Tan pinched the bridge of her nose. “Go ask the shopkeeper for some pen, ink, and paper first.”

Whether it would work or not, they could try first. If she really couldn’t draw it, they could find a painter on the spot. If that failed, she could obliquely hint at some original plot details— as long as she didn’t spoil things too obviously or outrageously, that Closed-Eyes Li probably wouldn’t interfere.

Shang Shan sprang up. “Okay, I’ll go.”

She dashed out the door, and Tan Que hurried after her. “Take me with you!”

On their way downstairs, Tan Que bumped her shoulder and patted her chest. “Finally out—I couldn’t breathe in your room. Every time I see your master, my heart panics.”

Shang Shan laughed. “Why? She never hit you.”

“She didn’t hit me—she hit you all the time. But do you know that feeling?” Tan Que reminisced wistfully. “Back in the village, I wasn’t popular, right? They called me a freak, but some kids still played with me. It was fine until we ran into their mothers—then it was over. Their mothers got mad that their kids were playing with a freak, but they wouldn’t blame me. They’d just beat their own kids. Beat them so hard the cries echoed through the whole village. It scared me so much that later, those kids stopped playing with me.”

Shang Shan sensed she hadn’t finished, so she kept descending the stairs while waiting. Then Tan Que continued, “It’s just like now. Seeing your master always feels like seeing your mom—my legs go all weak.”

For some reason, though Shang Shan considered herself fond of being close to that woman, she absolutely didn’t want to lump her into that kind of relationship—not even as a godmother. It felt like adding that word would make her lose something. So she said, “She’s not my mom.”

Tan Que replied, “She counts as one! Haven’t you heard that saying? Teacher like mother.”