Chapter 89 Part 1

She had eaten early the day before and had tossed and turned all night without rest, so she was already hungry. Having slept until late morning, her stomach was now pressed right against her back. Mu Qian Tan clutched her stomach, just thinking about going to eat, when this Stupid Dragon sneaked over. Even after reminding her once, she still used this method, leaving Mu Qian Tan momentarily at a loss for words.

She herself occasionally forgot about her stomach condition, and it was all thanks to this girl reciting it like a sutra that she remembered it so clearly.

“Did you hear that? Yao’e Immortal?”

“Mm.”

“Let me remind you again, little server—the food’s already been served. There’s a full table of it, lots of meat dishes, lots of veggie dishes, tons of rice. You better hurry down, or it’ll get cold…”

Just from the voice, she could picture the animated excitement on the person outside the door. She always carried that youthful, fiery vitality. Now, just hearing those two words of her name felt like a little fire person with flames on its head leaped out from the corner of her memories, shouting loudly. The cold, damp chill that filled the room truly dissipated quite a bit.

“Alright, I’ll go eat in a bit.” Mu Qian Tan glanced toward the screen. “Come in and tidy up the room. The bathtub leaked last night, and the floor’s all damp.”

The person outside went quiet, and only after a while did she say, “Sure, sure, but I’m a little busy right now. Yao’e Immortal should eat first.”

“Eat what?” Mu Qian Tan responded verbally while spiritual power fluctuated under her feet. In the previous instant, she was still by the bed; in the next, she was already at the door. Without giving the person outside any time to react, she yanked the door open with a clatter. The girl, who had been sneakily pinching her voice, froze in place, her words cutting off abruptly: “Today’s lunch is fish….”

The two stared at each other in silence for a moment. Shang Shan straightened up, hands behind her back, pretending to stroll by like an old man out for a walk. “A little server just went by, running so fast… Ah!”

Her collar at the back of her neck was grabbed, and her feet left the corridor floor. She shrank her body and clawed at her collar, her face flushing red. “Master, spare me!”

Mu Qian Tan said, “Where’s the little server?”

Shang Shan said, “Right in your hands.”

Mu Qian Tan looked ahead. “Strange, that doesn’t sound like your voice.”

The struggling stopped. Shang Shan paused, then crossed her fingers and twirled her thumbs, showing that thoughtful expression of “Did I really fool her?” Then, tentatively, she said, “She ran off, scared by you.”

Mu Qian Tan set her down and shook her head with a sigh. “What a shame. I actually wanted to say a few words to her.”

With her feet back on the ground, courage surged again. Shang Shan looked up and asked, “What did you want to say to her?”

“Nothing. Since she’s gone, I won’t say it.”

Shang Shan was too curious about what she would say to her and simply admitted it. “Actually, it was me. What did you want to say?”

“Say…” Mu Qian Tan smacked the back of her head. “Say you’re an idiot who can’t even pretend properly. I’m here hiding my identity—how would a shop server know I’m Yao’e Immortal?”

So that’s where she slipped up. Shang Shan hugged her head and sighed. “Fine.” She turned to leave. “I’m mad now. I don’t want to talk to you.”

Mu Qian Tan also stepped toward the stairs. “Oh.”

Shang Shan asked, “Master, do you want to eat fish?”

Mu Qian Tan replied, “What’s it to you?”

The two went downstairs one after the other, then crossed the street one behind the other, arriving at the first-floor hall. Tables lined both sides of the hall, and it was mealtime, nearly packed full. The clamor was loud enough to push people back a few steps. Little servers shuttled between tables serving food, their steps flying, sweat pouring down their faces.

Out sightseeing, the guests ordered plenty, eager to taste Pot City’s local specialties. But on the inside left side near the counter after entering the door, one table stood out as especially extravagant. Dishes were piled a full three layers high, soups overflowing the containers, yet only a slightly dark-skinned girl sat there. The contrast drew quite a few sidelong glances.

Tan Que held Lingdang Princess in her arms, drooling over the full table of food. Spotting the newcomers, she waved enthusiastically. “Come on, come on! I’m starving to death!”

“Coming!” Shang Shan bounded over first in two steps, pulled out a long bench, and sat down. She chatted enthusiastically with members of the Monster Play Troupe at nearby tables.

The members asked if she was about to eat and where she’d suddenly gone off to just now. Then they spotted the black-clad woman arriving a step behind and politely called out “Immortal” in unison before lowering their heads to pick at their food, not daring to look this way anymore.

It felt like a long time had passed since entering Pot City, but it had only been a day. When Mu Qian Tan arrived, she had eaten and drunk in the carriage, with Shang Shan bringing things inside for her. She’d only gone out at midnight to train, avoiding the sunlight, so she hadn’t properly faced these Monster Play Troupe members. They only remembered her as the cold and stern Immortal who had cracked a murder case with a few words at the East-West Inn. They knew little else and naturally felt some fear.

The table had fish, chicken, duck, beef slices—lavish enough to seem like they’d slaughtered every animal in the back kitchen. Even for a festival, it was overly extravagant. Mu Qian Tan stopped in front of the table without sitting, estimating how much this feast would cost and converting it into slaps to rain down on a certain spendthrift dragon.

At that moment, Hu Xinsu from the neighboring table saw her standing there unmoving and came over to explain briefly. He said he didn’t know the Immortal’s tastes or preferences, so they’d ordered a bit much. If it couldn’t all be eaten, they could pack it up for the brothers later. The Immortal shouldn’t mind. As the first proper meal upon entering Pot City, he hoped she would like it.

Shang Shan didn’t know whom she was praising. “Brother Hu is such a good guy! Great at painting, and so generous!”

This man did have a rare thoughtfulness for a guy. But Mu Qian Tan only had one thought: if they were paying, then it was fine.

She sat down to eat, chopsticks picking at the dishes. Meanwhile, Shang Shan spread the Painting Scroll across her lap, deliberately gripping the top and lifting it to expose the tabletop. “Brother Hu’s painting is so nice.”

Mu Qian Tan glanced at it. The artwork was indeed exquisite, perfectly identical, as if Little Baldy had been pulled straight out of the bottle and slapped onto the scroll. Very meticulous. Tan Que poked her head out from the edge of the painting. Unaware of the little displeasure between the two, she reported directly, “We’ve been asking around all morning, showing the painting to tons of people. No one recognized her, but everyone knows this…”

She pointed at the God-Slaying mark on Little Baldy’s forehead. “They said it’s left by the one who killed the previous Pot God. It’s from someone named… what was it? My memory’s terrible; I forgot right after hearing it.”

“Called Qi Xiaoxiao,” Shang Shan supplemented. “The previous Pot God had three of them, living up in the heavens. They used their great power to bully the people wantonly, demanding tribute of gold, silver, treasures, and beauties. Otherwise, they’d send down heavenly punishments. This provoked public outrage. Later, many cultivators followed a little girl named Qi Xiaoxiao up to the heavens and defeated those three gods. That Qi Xiaoxiao became the new Pot God. Back when she went up to the heavens, she already had this God-Slaying mark on her forehead.”

Tan Que said, “That’s what I meant… When we first entered the gate, I saw it painted there. I was wondering what it was back then. Now I know it’s that Qi Xiaoxiao.”

When entering Pot City, everyone could see the two massive murals on the gates. One depicted three lofty immortals high above, the other a girl pointing her sword to the heavens, surrounded by several cultivators. It probably illustrated this very story.

Tan Que gnawed on a chicken leg. “But I’m confused. Don’t you have to ascend to be called a god? Did that girl ascend?”

Mu Qian Tan said disdainfully, “Folks will spontaneously revere people with great achievements and call them gods. In Tianyu Sect’s classification, these local gods are called ‘folk gods.’ It has nothing to do with ascension; she just stood tall, that’s all.”

From the first mortal cultivator until now, no one had truly ascended to become a real god. So no one knew what gods were like, meaning anything could be. People’s faith needed an anchor, and folk gods were born from that.

Shang Shan cut meat into small pieces, fed some to Zhengchun, some to Red Satin, and tried to feed into the bottle for Little Baldy, but she shook her head in refusal. Ghosts didn’t need to eat! Tan Que mindlessly crunched on chicken cartilage, head tilted to the ceiling, imagining just how high that would be. She asked, “But no matter how high, it’s still on the ground, not in the heavens, right?”

Not in the heavens—there was no air in space, so even immortals couldn’t survive unless they knew how to launch a rocket. But Mu Qian Tan wouldn’t explain physics to these two. She picked up a piece of fish. “It’s on the ground.”

Tan Que seemed very interested in the topic; even her usual fear was cast aside. She asked again, “Then she must have been really strong at least, to kill those other three immortals.”

As she held the fish between her lips, her tongue tip detected a dense patch of tiny bones, nearly pricking into the flesh. Mu Qian Tan frowned, covered her mouth with one hand, pushed the fish aside with her tongue to spit out the bones, clasped her hands, licked her lips, and snorted coldly. “Just killed three minor immortals. Nothing impressive.”

The words were awfully arrogant, but she had the confidence for it. Though she was a notch below the other freakish hall masters in strength, compared to these wild immortals outside, she still had authority. If she said it was nothing, it was nothing.

Shang Shan sneaked a glance at her, then reached for a plate of fish and placed it in front of herself, mysteriously tinkering with it. Tan Que sucked on her spoon, lost in thought. Amid the clatter of dishes in the hall, a white-haired head suddenly popped up by the table. “You folks are outsiders, right?”

Tan Que jumped in fright, nearly screaming, and leaned toward Shang Shan while shielding Lingdang with her hand. But then she saw it was the White-Haired Elder from behind the counter, squatting by the table! She yelled, “What are you doing!”