Chapter 94 Part 2

Mu Qian Tan picked up a fairly sturdy stick and slammed a burst of spiritual power into the ground. The weeds shattered into countless flying green scraps, exposing a patch of dirt. She drew the array on the ground with the stick, not looking up. “Your blood is useless.”

Fresh blood had the strongest fishy scent, amplified by the curse technique into an irresistible delicacy for evil beings. And the higher the blood quality, the stronger the pull. Dragon clan blood, as the supreme great demons, was a great tonic. Under the array’s catalysis, some aroma in it had fatal allure for other demons.

Of course, her own blood as an upper immortal with decent cultivation would work fine for drawing the array, even more appealing to weaker evil things without bloodline suppression. But she wouldn’t cut herself, so she had the stupid dragon do it.

Why injure herself when she could make someone else bleed?

Tan Que said, “Mine’s no good?”

Shang Shan said, “We’re all human, so the blood’s the same. What Master means is, I’m a cultivator, so demons might like mine more. I’ll do it.”

Someone narrow-minded might hold a grudge over being called out. Shang Shan didn’t want a rift between her friend and her master, nor did she want to feel torn between her master and Qin He like last time. So she tried to smooth things over.

But Tan Que was even more big-hearted than her and didn’t care at all. She laughed. “Okay then, you do it. I’ll have Lingdang heal you later.”

Mu Qian Tan had just finished drawing when she heard this and instinctively glanced at Lingdang. The little green frog stared back with its two pitch-black eyes in a bizarre gaze. Affectionate, full of tender feelings—Mu Qian Tan never imagined those words could fit a frog’s face so perfectly.

She got goosebumps. About to say something, Shang Shan over there had already sliced her arm. A string of bright red, scorching hot blood trickled down her forearm like a line of red beads. Tan Que reached out to catch it. “Can’t waste it!”

Shang Shan glanced at the ground. Even without instructions, she knew to copy the drawing. She wiped blood from her wound and carefully drew stroke by stroke, pushing aside the weeds.

“…” Mu Qian Tan still remembered and thought, ‘Does that frog have a screw loose?’

‘What?’

A slurping sound came by her ear. No surprise—it was Li Biyuan chowing down on instant noodles again. Mu Qian Tan rolled her eyes in exasperation. ‘Eating junk food every day. I wouldn’t be shocked if you dropped dead from malnutrition someday.’

Li Biyuan chewed her noodles, mumbling thickly. ‘Don’t curse me.’ She lifted the bowl for a sip of soup, let out a satisfied sigh, and wiped her mouth. ‘What’s up? Who pissed you off?’

Mu Qian Tan said, ‘No one. That pink pig.’

Li Biyuan reacted for a moment: “You’re talking about Lingdang, right? Hey, you can’t call her a pig just because she’s chubby! How did she offend you?”

Recalling that gaze, Mu Qian Tan had calmed down somewhat. It was just a frog—how could it have such deep affection in its eyes? It must have been her illusion. She simply said, “I just don’t like frogs.”

“Normal, reasonable. Our Sister Tan doesn’t like tons of things, frogs included, no big deal,” Li Biyuan unpacked a carton of pure milk and stuck the straw in her mouth. “But she’s a late-stage protagonist party member too, the milkmaid who shows up all the time. No avoiding her.”

Mu Qian Tan frowned. “Milkmaid?”

Li Biyuan explained, “Forgot you don’t play games. It’s the role that heals others, adds blood.”

Lingdang’s healing ability had been obvious since Flying Dragon Cliff, and she had shown up at the East-West Inn as well. Normally, there was nothing to complain about—it was a purely positive power—but her healing method was intolerable.

Every time Mu Qian Tan saw that pink long tongue of hers, she couldn’t help recalling what happened in a certain Cold Spring, when she was forced to heal the wound on her collarbone. Her fingers twitched involuntarily.

They were all perverts—even the animals. Not a single normal one in the whole book! The author was sick in the head!

Li Biyuan comforted her. “No need to worry, though. She won’t join the protagonist lineup until way later. By then, Sister Tan, you should’ve left this world and be enjoying big money. Don’t sweat it.”

As the protagonist, Shang Shan’s path to the world’s peak required building her own faction and gathering talents from across the land, including the later powerhouses Tan Que and Lingdang. And all that came after Yao’e Immortal’s death in the plot. So according to Li Biyuan, Mu Qian Tan indeed shouldn’t encounter it.

Mu Qian Tan didn’t reply. She rubbed her fingertips one by one with her thumb.

After bustling half the day, they finally finished the formation. It spanned six feet wide and consumed endless blood. Drawing it demanded total focus plus outputting spiritual power. After the final stroke, Shang Shan was utterly drained—her face deathly pale, her body swaying as if she might collapse—yet the smile lingered on her lips.

She straightened to admire her handiwork. Her nose filled with a thick, clinging scent. The dark green grass faintly revealed dark red patches, which grew more vivid once the formation took shape. It didn’t look great, but for a first-time array artist, she was plenty satisfied.

Even knowing praise was unlikely, she whipped around at once. “Master, how’d I do?”

Mu Qian Tan said, “A ghastly sight.”

Shang Shan plugged her ears. “I think it’s great too!”

Tan Que chimed in, “I don’t get it at all, but it’s great! You okay? Your face is super pale—come have Lingdang check you!”

“Okay!”

Mu Qian Tan rolled her eyes and looked away, waiting for them to finish fussing. Shang Shan rolled down her sleeve and came over. “Now we just wait?”

“Mm. Hide yourselves. Don’t disturb any demons that might show up.” Mu Qian Tan had barely begun when her toes tapped lightly. She leaped onto the nearest big tree, her final word vanishing amid the branches. Shang Shan hurried after her but grew dizzy and nearly tumbled. She cupped her hands upward. “Can I have your protective talisman?”

One protective talisman dropped from the tree, landing perfectly in the girl’s palms. She clutched it tight, tugged Tan Que behind the bushes, and squatted down. “We’ll wait here. Your protective talisman too.”

Tan Que handed it over. “Whatcha doing?”

Shang Shan cradled all three protective talismans and whispered to them, “Xiao Xian, come quick—demons on the mountain!” Then she shrugged with a grin. “Three together gotta make it louder, right? So Xiao Xian hears better.”

Tan Que eyed her bloodless lips and grumbled unhappily, “When we’re done here and head back, I’ll take you for some tonic food.”

Shang Shan nodded absently. “Sure. We can invite Sister Qiu Shui too. She seems so frail—frailer than my master even.”

Tan Que said, “She mentioned her health’s bad. Your master’s cultivating, so she’s gotta be tougher.”

Lingdang: “Croak.”

Two pine cones dropped from the tree, bonking each girl on the head.

A moment later, a much smaller pine cone fell and smacked Lingdang.

The three pine cones rolled into the grass pile. Tan Que clapped a hand over Lingdang’s head and fell silent. Shang Shan peered up to see a black hem fluttering innocently by the trunk. She stared until the dense green blurred her vision, then toppled face-first to the ground.

Tan Que yelped in fright. “What’s wrong!”

Lying down steadied her gaze. Shang Shan spotted the emotionless cold face peering into the distance through the leaves. Feeling secure at last, she shut her eyes. “I’ll nap a bit. Sorry to bother Little Sister Que with watch duty…”

She fell asleep before the words left her mouth. Tan Que watched her anxiously, terrified she’d kick the bucket any second. But this girl’s vitality proved incredibly robust—her breathing steady as could be.

Shang Shan dozed groggily, dreaming once more of that pale figure amid crimson seas, the dull ache on her cheek from slamming into the bookshelf, the sudden chill shoved between her lips and teeth. Every sensation felt achingly real, intoxicating. Her body floated light as air, yet her blood rampaged wildly through her veins.

But hadn’t her blood gone into the array?

No, unimportant. What mattered was that person’s mesmerizing scent—and how it left her so… so…

Hungry.

Shang Shan bolted upright. Her mouth parched as cracked earth, she struggled to swallow, heart thundering like war drums, pounding so fiercely it might burst from her chest.

She clutched her chest. Her tongue probed her mouth—the ice had melted away.

No wonder the thirst.

“Shan Big Sis, it’s here!” Tan Que hissed. “Look!”

Shang Shan licked her lips; the heartbeat faded from her ears. She peeked over the bushes. Atop the formation loomed a dopey, clumsy one-eyed small clay demon, tentatively poking its edge in curiosity.

“Huh?” Shang Shan murmured. “Isn’t that the one we caught yesterday?”

The answer crumbled fast. A second arrived, then a third. More than one—they clustered around the formation, poking curiously, bumping into each other and shaking their heads.

No clue where these demons came from, but with them here, Shang Shan hurriedly whispered to the three protective talismans again. “Demons! Xiao Xian, come quick! Demon-Exorcising Little Immortal, come quick!”

She fixed her gaze ahead, repeating it several times—then cut off short. From the distant woods emerged a woman with a herb basket, dressed for gathering medicine. Her path led straight to the Summon Evil Array!

If she ran into the demons, disaster! Shang Shan jolted in alarm, scrambling to rise—but blood loss hadn’t recovered, her haste sparked white in her vision, forcing her back down.

One hand on her spinning head, the other shoving bushes aside to yell and scare the demons—then a soft thud behind her. Mu Qian Tan had landed. Hands clamped on Tan Que and Shang Shan’s napes, halting their leaps. Her voice sank low. “Don’t move.”

They struggled to save the woman—then watched her smile and pat a clay little demon’s head.

She never reached the magic array. The one she stroked was another clay little demon drawn to her before it could approach. Shang Shan lowered her hand, puzzled. “They’re that friendly with people?”

The clay little demons spotted her and crowded happily, hopping for head pats—no demonic ferocity, just cats and dogs begging pets. Once satisfied, their round hands tugged her skirt hem, steering her another way.

The herb woman petted them all, pointed to her back basket—meaning business time, no more play. The clay little demons waved farewell, then returned to the formation, peering left and right, touching about.

These little demons… had they pulled her away to protect her from the unknown formation?

They were helping a mortal!

Mu Qian Tan released them. Unanswered questions swirling, Shang Shan slumped exhausted to the ground.

Then lightning cracked from the sky, slamming earthward with a boom. Spiritual power erupted—the probing clay little demons shattered on impact. A woman drifted down, wide-brimmed hat and straight long skirt adorned with the protective talismans’ three-layer heaven-earth design.

She landed amid lingering spiritual power, kicked aside clay little demon shards, eyed the blood formation. Then turned toward the bushes!

Their eyes met; Shang Shan’s pupils shrank. Dingxiang! Another Demon-Exorcising Little Immortal!

Dingxiang flicked her sleeve, strode to the bushes, and halted. “Immortal Wang Lan, the Pot God invites you to a gathering in the heavens.”