Chapter 106: Master

They led the donkey cart away, but the crowd gathered around the meat stall refused to disperse for a long time.

The sheer amount of meat and bones was too shocking; once the danger passed, what remained was envy.

Someone lamented, “If it had been me cut down, that would’ve been perfect—so much meat, enough to last me a month.”

“If it had been you, you’d probably be dead. You didn’t see—the knife was aimed straight at her head. If it had hit, half her skull might’ve been gone.”

“That girl’s luck is incredible—such a fast blade, and she still managed to slap it aside. Lucky it deflected; otherwise, Pig Meat Chang would’ve had a murder on his hands.”

Pan Yun didn’t know she could still be called lucky.

To avoid affecting the divine statue on the cart, she hadn’t dared to get on.

Though she very much wanted to test again what kind of misfortune she’d suffer holding seven hundred taels for a day and night, she still valued her life, so she pulled out a hundred-tael banknote and gave it to Wang Cong, “Here’s your hundred taels back.”

This was the only debt she currently owed him; she’d borrowed the rest earlier and sent it to Datong.

Pan Yun paused, then turned her steps and said, “I’m going to send money to my father.”

She hadn’t yet received any follow-up about the hundred taels, but calculating the time, he should’ve received it for two days already.

It wouldn’t hurt to make a comparison.

Pan Yun took the money to the bank to deposit it, then wrote a letter on the spot and mailed it together with the deposit slip at the Minxin Bureau.

Thus, the money she’d earned was now reduced to five hundred taels, plus the nineteen taels and three hundred eighty-five copper coins still on her, making up her entire fortune.

Pan Yun strode ahead of the donkey cart, refusing Wang Xiaojing’s invitation, “You don’t need to worry about me—I can get back on my own. No matter what bad luck befalls me, don’t interfere.”

Wang Cong pointed at the black cat trailing behind her, “I understand, but Little Master Shu, Little Black doesn’t have to walk—let him ride on the cart. Walking like this is pitiful.”

“No,” Pan Yun declared firmly, “He’s with me—he’s my possession. If he gets on, the rules might think it’s me, and then your misfortune will be dragged in.”

“You stumbling or falling doesn’t matter, but the statue can’t afford even the slightest mishap.”

Wang Cong: “It can’t be that severe—your silver is still on the cart.”

Pan Yun: “Silver is inanimate; a cat is alive. How can they be the same?”

Pan Xiaohei let out a sharp cry, mewing indignantly, “You’re just settling personal scores!”

Pan Yun turned and glared at it, “What personal scores? Do we even have a grudge? We’re revolutionary comrades—how could there be enmity? Everything I do is for the greater good.”

Seeing Wang Cong and Wang Xiaojing staring at her, Pan Yun glared back, “What are you looking at? Never seen a person talking to a cat before?”

Wang Cong and Wang Xiaojing immediately turned their heads.

Wang Xiaojing whispered softly, “Little Master Shu’s temper is so fierce—should we really not ask her to ride?”

Wang Cong stared straight ahead, “Forget it. For the statue’s safety, Little Master Shu won’t get on. Let’s walk faster—then we won’t have to see her.”

Wang Xiaojing stared, “Leave her behind? That’s not right—she’s injured.”

“It’s just a minor scratch, nothing serious,” Wang Cong reassured him. “Don’t worry—Little Master Shu’s martial arts are excellent, and her lightness skill is top-notch. If she wants to catch up, she’ll manage it easily.”

Wang Cong understood Pan Yun’s concern—being near her risked dragging them into her misfortune, and the cart was too precious. Better to keep distance and give her space to experiment.

Sure enough, once they cracked the whip and made the donkeys run, the cart faded from Pan Yun’s sight—and her expression improved. She stopped walking.

Pan Xiaohei mewed at her, “What are you planning?”

Pan Yun glanced at it, “Nothing. Now that I’ve got five hundred taels, of course I’ll run every possible experiment.”

Pan Yun curled her fingers into claws and lunged at it with a swift swipe.

“Miaow—!” Pan Xiaohei shrieked, leaping away, then sprinted without touching the ground.

Pan Yun activated her lightness skill to chase.

“Miaow miaow miaow—you’re testing your martial arts, so why use me?!”

Pan Yun chased after its tail, grabbing, occasionally stomping with her foot to trap it, “I need a target—punching air is too dull.”

“Miaow—all excuses. Don’t you always train by punching air?”

Pan Xiaohei fled for its life, paws blurring into afterimages; Pan Yun chased close behind—and suffered not a single mishap.

Soon they caught up to the donkey cart, which had slowed again.

Wang Xiaojing spotted her and excitedly raised his hand to greet her—but Pan Yun and the black cat shot past like a gust of demonic wind, zipping by in two swift flashes.

Wang Xiaojing’s hand remained mid-air, his words unspoken.

Wang Cong said, “See? I told you they’d catch up.”

Wang Xiaojing’s eyes turned red with envy, “Little Master Shu’s martial arts are incredible, Cong-ge—do you really think I have no talent for Dao cultivation?”

Wang Cong patted his head, “Forget Dao. You could learn some basic martial arts to protect yourself.”

Wang Cong thought a moment, “If you’re willing to endure hardship, it’s not too late to start now—I’ll teach you later.” Wang Xiaojing exclaimed excitedly, “Miaohe already said he’d teach me—Cong-ge, teach me one too, then I’ll know two!”

Wang Cong burst into laughter and nodded, “Fine. I’ll find you a few fist manuals later—pick one you like, then learn an internal cultivation method, practice breath regulation—it’s enough for ordinary folks.”

“It’ll strengthen your body and keep you from being bullied.”

Wang Xiaojing nodded vigorously.

As she used her lightness skill, the wind rushed fiercely against her face—Pan Yun felt herself as agile as a soaring eagle, utterly free.

She ran and leapt, covering half the distance without a single mishap—smoothly, effortlessly.

Pan Yun didn’t dare grow complacent, but she relaxed somewhat.

That relaxation cost her—she stepped on a small tree branch, preparing to use it to launch forward, when the branch cracked sharply and snapped in half.

No big deal—it just broke. She hadn’t even landed firmly. Pan Yun pushed off to leap away, but the broken branch suddenly twitched as if in its death throes—a smaller twig snapped upward, directly into her flight path, and lashed hard against her right foot.

She crashed down with a thud, reacting instantly by curling into a ball as she landed…

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A loud crash startled Pan Xiaohei, who yowled and shot up a tree, watching her in terror, “Miaow—did you die?”

Pan Yun stretched and stood up, patting her limbs and neck—confirmed only her right elbow was bruised, nothing else. She trudged forward, head down.

Pan Xiaohei jumped down from the tree and hurried after her, mewing, “You’re not going to do this again, are you? Can’t we just walk home normally?”

“Shut up!”

No sooner had she spoken than Pan Yun tripped over a tiny root hidden in the grass and fell flat on her face with a splat.

Pan Xiaohei froze, one paw suspended in midair, then dared to land softly, whispering, “Are you alright?”

Pan Yun lifted her head from the grass, spat out blades of grass, and said flatly, “No problem at all.”

“You saw it—even walking, I can trip on flat ground. So why not push the limits?”

Pan Yun snorted bitterly, “Rare opportunity—today we’ll test it to the end!”

Pan Yun tested not only her lightness skill and martial arts, and walking—but also her magic.

She tried snapping off a branch—it snapped back and scratched her face.

She tried rolling dry grass—her fingers were precisely pricked by a hidden thorn.

She wrapped the dry grass around a branch, then chanted a spell and summoned fire—the fireball ignited into a torch, then surged violently upward, scorching her eyebrows.

She panicked and threw the torch—the perfectly burning torch instantly went out.

Pan Yun trudged toward Mount Sanqing, shouldering the extinguished torch, face blackened.

Literally blackened—from smoke.

By the time she reached the mountain’s foot, night had fallen. Pan Yun sighed in relief, lit the torch, and sat at the base waiting for Wang Cong and Wang Xiaojing.

Wang Cong left the statue and donkey cart at Wang Xiaojing’s home.

He took Pan Yun’s bag of silver ingots, walked to the roadside by the mountain, and saw her face flickering in the torchlight.

Wang Cong swallowed hard and whispered, “Little Master Shu… are you… alright?”

“I’m fine,” Pan Yun said calmly. “Let’s climb the mountain.”

Wang Cong was slightly afraid. “What if we stay here tonight and go up at dawn? If you dislike staying in villagers’ homes, you can stay at my old family house—I recently repaired it a bit, it’s livable.”

“No. We’ve climbed this mountain many times after dark when we went to the county. Only under identical conditions can we compare differences. We climb tonight.”

Wang Cong gaped, unable to comprehend. “Little Master Shu—is comparing differences more important than your life?”

“Of course,” Pan Yun said. “Without understanding the difference and uncovering the rules, you might get dragged into this misfortune and die someday. Right now, everything’s still manageable—I’m weak, and the backlash isn’t strong yet.”

“This isn’t strong?” Wang Cong pointed at her face. “Look at how you’ve been battered! The path ahead is mountain trails—if you slip and fall, it’s a bottomless cliff.”

Mount Sanqing was truly treacherous—its peaks rose in clusters, yet staggered apart, with deep, unfathomable chasms between them.

Some cliffs looked as if cleaved straight down by a blade—smooth, vertical, nearly impossible even for the greatest martial artists to scale with lightness skill.

If Pan Yun fell, nine out of ten times, she’d die.

Mount Sanqing was all hard stone—accidentally hitting your head…

Wang Cong shuddered, shaking off the grim image. “Let’s climb at dawn.”

Pan Yun looked at him, then shouted to the sky, “Master—!”

She pointed to the heavens and demanded, “Is this mountain yours? Does it answer to you? If your disciple dies on this mountain tonight, you’ll lose your new temple, your temple keeper, and one less devoted disciple to honor you—!”

Ending number 3

(End of Chapter)