Three days later, Shang Qinghua was as hardworking as a happy little honeybee. Mobei-Jun had slept in the Leisure House for those three days, then disappeared without a word.
Only with this had Shang Qinghua fully realized just how unscientifically god-tier the cheat he’d given Mobei-Jun was: Three. Days. In three days, there had been no warning bell, no suspicion, no nothing! Not a single person had found out that a demon had strutted all the way up to live on An Ding Peak and ordered about a future elite (logistics) disciple as his own beast of burden!
Like a freed serf singing in joy, Shang Qinghua floated about at full energy for a while, right up until he received his next mission from the old An Ding Peak Lord.
An Ding Peak’s missions were invariably day-to-day miscellany, differing only in whether you battled through logistics or struggled on the front lines. But it was inevitably alarming to be in close proximity with dangerous organisms.
For example, rushing in to deliver blood-replenishing talismans and pills to Bai Zhan Peak when they were in the thick of battle with resentful spirits was a cruel and frightful type of mission no matter how you looked at it.
At least Mobei-Jun was a capable protector.
Shang Qinghua thought Mobei-Jun had already tossed him to the back of his mind. But on several later occasions when he ended up in hot water, he would be fished up in passing by some strange creature that was clearly demonic in appearance, and he was thusly able to remain intact.
This really counted as “stick close to me, and I’ll protect you,” didn’t it?
Shang Qinghua couldn’t help but conclude that clinging to thighs and whatever was both quite useful and quite necessary. If it weren’t, he never would have survived this far!
— PART 3 —
ONE DAY, Shang Qinghua’s concise Great System delivered a new command: Become the An Ding Peak head disciple within three years.
He’d already run missions into the outside world and made a good showing under Mobei-Jun’s “care,” but if he wanted to become head disciple, he would also have to pay more than a little attention to affairs within Cang Qiong Mountain itself.
As everyone knew, all the cannon-fodder supporting cast in Proud Immortal Demon Way only had an IQ of 40. Therefore, the so-called “palace intrigue” was pretty much all at this level:
So, the old An Ding Peak Lord already had a head disciple, let’s call him A. A was outstanding to the max (where outstanding meant being a master of serving tea, changing water, washing clothes, and folding blankets, and that he was considered a dab hand at the housekeeping services center). Some days, the old peak lord requested that A make twelve delicious flatcakes and send one to each peak. All Shang Qinghua needed to do at such a time was stealthily scatter a ton of salt or sugar on every flatcake that A had meticulously made in order to render them flat-out unpalatable. Repeat the above process three times. And okay! Now the old peak lord has finally lost all hope in his former senior disciple!
Think about it. If you can’t even make a good flatcake, what can you possibly do?
Now all Shang Qinghua needed to do was display his expert culinary skills a couple of times, and he could successfully ascend!
This was called: If you don’t have enough IQ, make up for it with stupid plot twists. If you can’t do the best, then be the worst.
If the plot is so imbecilic that readers roast it like crazy, that’s also kind of a success!
In Proud Immortal Demon Way, these types of plots were too numerous to count. The way in which readers flocked together all year round to roast them could have been said to be one of the great spectacles of the Zhongdian comments section. And the fiercest roaster of all was none other than Peerless Cucumber.
As Shang Qinghua thought about this, he couldn’t help but feel bit of nostalgia for those comments section companions, and for that one dear friend in particular.
He truly missed the force behind those inexhaustible howls that ran along the lines of: “Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky, it’s exactly because you have these kinds of ideas that you’re only a third-rate stallion novel writer!”
However, as the An Ding Peak head disciple, his troubles only increased. For example, in his time as an outer disciple, he never would have had the chance to descend the mountain on a quest with Shen Qingqiu and Liu Qingge.
How many fucking lives of disastrous karma must he have lived to draw this super special prize?!
Cang Qiong Mountain placed a high emphasis on maintaining kinship between peers. It was common for a handful of head disciples to group up and sally out on side quests every now and again. On this one, the division of labor between the three of them was clear. Liu Qingge was the thug hired to be the vanguard, while Shen Qingqiu was in the center, in charge of feigning civility and deploying sneak attacks and finishing blows, as well as waving his fan and being a poser (but don’t let anyone know he said that.)
And Shang Qinghua? Naturally he was the one in charge of driving the carriage, making inn reservations, carrying luggage, and managing both the trip’s income and expenses. Logistics, you know?
If only he had been let off so easily; that would’ve been great.
“They say that at night, if you stick your head over the edge of the well and look into its mouth, you’ll see your reflection within, looking up as it smiles faintly and beckons. Out of nowhere, it drags people in and drowns them. Sometimes you’ll even see your dead relatives…” Shang Qinghua coughed. “Shen-shixiong, Liu-shidi, can you…can you let me finish first?”
He put the scroll down.
Shen Qingqiu whisked a book out from his sleeve. He could turn on his poser act anytime and anywhere, sitting or standing. At present, he was leaning on the trunk of an old banyan tree in the shade, putting his magnificent scholarly essence on full display. Meanwhile, Liu Qingge had already gone to stand by the mouth of the well and stuck his head over the edge to look inside.
Liu Qingge wanted to wrap things up as fast as possible to avoid having to interact with Shen Qingqiu at any point during the trip, and Shen Qingqiu wanted to let Liu Qingge finish doing all the hard work and get lost as fast as possible. Neither one cared to burden himself with the other’s presence; each had their own considerations; and neither was listening to Shang Qinghua’s careful explanation of the mission.
Liu Qingge looked back up. “It didn’t.”
Shang Qinghua understood. Liu Qingge meant, My reflection didn’t smile faintly and beckon to me. He spread his hands. “Well… How about we have Shen-shixiong go over and try?”
Shen Qingqiu stowed away his book, swapping it for a folding fan. He strolled over to the side of the well. “Please step aside.”