Chapter 7: I Said, That Was the Last Time! (2)
Tianyu Gate, the foremost of the five great sects, was located in the Tianyu Mountain range. The scenery was beautiful, with numerous blessed lands. The climate was mild and pleasant, with ample places to escape the summer heat or winter cold. Spirit herbs and rare beasts were plentiful, a simple sweep of a net in the river would yield a bountiful harvest. Jade pavilions and golden halls were everywhere, opulent yet elegant, silently proclaiming the prestige of the number one sect.
Under the azure sky, cultivators flew by on swords or rode various spirit beasts, mostly alone, rarely in groups, their hurried movements carrying an air of leisure and immortal grace. Nurtured by the land, the people here looked healthier and more vibrant than elsewhere.
Shang Shang, clinging to the edge of the crane, looked around eagerly, her eyes wide with wonder. From above, she could see that the buildings weren’t haphazardly arranged like those of a nouveau riche, but a harmonious blend of jade and gold, creating a grand and majestic scene, both idyllic and imposing.
She was filled with excitement, gasping and exclaiming, marveling at the sect’s vast scale, happy that she would be living here.
The crane flew over several green hills, and a large square suddenly came into view. A dense crowd filled the square, bustling with activity and noise.
Some kind of event must be taking place to draw such a large crowd.
Some people noticed the crane in the sky and waved. Shang Shang, ever drawn to lively crowds, waved back, but the distance was too great, the figures below blurry, their words indistinguishable.
Shang Shang felt a restless urge to join the crowd. But before she could express her desire, Mu Qiandan steered the crane away, avoiding the crowd as if fleeing.
The crowd below quickly turned into a sea, its surface as blue and clear as a mirror, almost motionless. Thin, light gray clouds obscured the sun, the sky overcast.
This was the coldest place in Tianyu Gate: the Narrow Sea.
The lively scene gone, Shang Shang retracted her head in disappointment, lying down on the crane’s back.
She jiggled the gold pouch, then couldn’t hold back any longer, asking, “There were so many people there, what were they doing?”
The wind ruffled Mu Qiandan’s hair as she searched for Cangqing Hall. She replied casually, “I don’t know.”
Shang Shang guessed, “Maybe it’s a temple fair? Or a market?”
Mu Qiandan scoffed, “Don’t apply your narrow-minded mortal concepts to an immortal sect.”
Shang Shang snorted, “You definitely don’t know.”
Mu Qiandan brushed away a stray cloud on the crane’s back, guiding Bai Tong.
The sound of flapping wings filled the air. After a melodious crane’s cry, Shang Shang swung her legs and said, “Guess how I knew you didn’t know.”
Mu Qiandan said, “Be quiet.”
Shang Shang continued, “Because you’re so bad at talking, you must have no friends, so no one told you what they were doing.”
A faint golden light appeared in the blue sea. Mu Qiandan guided Bai Tong downwards, the view becoming clearer. The hazy golden light gradually solidified into a magnificent golden hall, with glazed white tiles, serene and bright, standing on a mountain peak, overlooking the vast expanse.
Bai Tong cried out, slowly descending. As soon as they landed, Shang Shang jumped up, about to get off, but was kicked in the backside, tumbling from the crane’s back like a ball.
There happened to be a small pond below, and she fell straight into it with a splash.
Mu Qiandan, still on the crane, urged Bai Tong to return to her neck. As the crane’s physical form vanished, she also descended, landing gracefully, her skirt falling like delicate petals.
Shang Shang emerged from the water, drenched, sputtering angrily, “You, you, you, you!”
Mu Qiandan glanced at her sideways and walked towards the golden hall.
When she first arrived, she was urged by the system to start the mission, so even though she stood before the hall, she hadn’t examined it closely.
But judging by the original master’s attire, the artifacts filling her storage pouch, and her title as Hall Lord, she should have considerable wealth.
Filled with anticipation, she walked through every room in the hall, her disappointment growing with each step, her heart turning cold, her expression eventually turning indifferent.
This damn hall was all show and no substance, looking opulent on the outside, but practically empty inside!
She didn’t believe it, searching every corner, every possible hiding spot for treasure, but finding nothing.
It was cleaner than a dog bowl licked clean by a dog. Had the original master carried everything of value on her person?
Fine, it wasn’t essential. But the most outrageous thing was that there wasn’t even a bed, or any other furniture. How was she supposed to live here? It was no different from a cave!
Li Biyuan explained, ‘The master’s character setting is ascetic, not attached to material possessions, focused only on cultivating her mind, so her life is very simple, without worldly desires.’
Mu Qiandan: ‘Cultivating her mind? Then she failed miserably. After all that effort, she still resorted to shortcuts like sacrificing her disciple.’
Li Biyuan flipped through the book, sighing, ‘Perhaps people are fickle.’
Giving up on searching the other rooms, Mu Qiandan finally arrived at the main hall. The high ceiling was shrouded in darkness due to the lack of light, the entire hall illuminated only by a faint glow in the center.
‘This proves that blindly training the physical body is useless.’ She walked towards the glow. ‘Pretending to be detached and desireless on the surface, yet capable of anything, what’s the point of pursuing such false purity? It’s better to be a villain from the start; laying down the butcher’s knife leads to immediate enlightenment.’
The source of the glow was a jade coffin, like a fallen ancient tree, its six sides smooth and flat, carved with dragon and phoenix patterns, its jade surface cool to the touch. Looking through the slightly ajar lid, it seemed large enough to hold two people. Was it a coffin for a joint burial?
Normally, seeing a coffin would be considered bad luck, but this one looked incredibly valuable. The ominousness of the coffin couldn’t suppress the allure of wealth. Mu Qiandan even reached out to touch it.
Li Biyuan timely said, ‘You were just complaining about not having a bed, this is it.’
Mu Qiandan, who had been estimating the coffin’s value and how much it could be sold for, recoiled upon hearing this. After a while, she asked, ‘The original master slept in this?’
Li Biyuan replied, ‘That’s what the book says.’
Mu Qiandan couldn’t help but express her disgust, ‘Sleeping in a coffin every day, did she think she was invincible? No wonder she died suddenly.’
Li Biyuan said, ‘You can find another bed. This is a world of metaphysics, it’s better to be superstitious.’
Mu Qiandan agreed, turning to leave. But after taking a couple of steps, she seemed to remember something and returned to the coffin, climbing inside and lying down.
Li Biyuan: ‘…Why are you back?’
‘The Narrow Sea is too vast, it’s inconvenient to go out.’ Mu Qiandan shifted, finding a comfortable position. ‘Besides, I’m sleeping on the lid, not inside the coffin, it won’t be unlucky.’
‘Hmm… alright, if you don’t mind, just make do for now.’
Although made of jade, the coffin wasn’t hard or uncomfortable, similar to a cool summer mat, even emitting a slight chill that relaxed her muscles and eased her fatigue.
She hadn’t rested well in the cave, and the journey had been exhausting. As soon as Mu Qiandan closed her eyes, she drifted off to sleep.
She had thought that sleep after such exhaustion would be relaxing, but her tense nerves followed her into her dreams. The image of Liu He’s mother’s corpse lingered, turning her dreams dark and eerie.
Blood flowed in the snow, the warmth of a body melting the snowflakes, creating a warm wound on the white ground.
Snowflakes, like grains of salt, landed on her face, a slight sting. She swallowed, remembering the unseeing eyes, the gradually cooling body, and the repeated calls, “Sister.”
She shouldn’t be hearing that voice now. Mu Qiandan realized she was having a nightmare. She tried to break free, to run, but the dream held her captive, pressing her against the coffin, unable to move.
“Sister, sister…”
“Stop calling, stop…” she moaned softly, her voice strained and suppressed, trapped in her throat. “Don’t call…”
“Sister,” the girl in her dream raised her eyes, her voice suddenly louder.
“Don’t abandon me.”
Mu Qiandan sat up abruptly.
The hall was dark, with almost no light except for the faint glow of the jade coffin. The girl’s voice from her dream lingered in her ears, her vision blurry. She was drenched in sweat, her heart pounding painfully in her chest, her eyelashes trembling, unable to calm down.
Then, she noticed someone standing beside her.
The remnants of her nightmare still lingering, her eyes wide, before she could see who it was, she instinctively lashed out, a surge of spiritual energy sending the person flying, crashing against the wall.
A loud crash echoed through the hall, cracks appearing on the wall, small stones raining down.
After the attack, Mu Qiandan calmed down slightly, slowing her breathing, looking towards the figure almost embedded in the cracked wall, illuminated by slivers of sunlight.
The girl, still dazed, slowly raised her head, her face bathed in the light.
Then, she realized what had happened. Her eyes blazed with fury, “I said, that was the last time!”
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