The Aloof Master Relies on This Cat's Kisses to Survive - Chapter 36

The Deception of Xitan

The woman who had removed her mask finally deigned to look elsewhere, nodding toward her guests.

The musicians struck up a tune, and the guests resumed their low-voiced conversations. It was evident that even though this individual held a distinguished status, she did not care for social interaction; neither her guests nor her subordinates dared to speak to her.

Only Ming Xi remained oblivious. She sat chewing on a peach crisp, even handing a piece to the woman beside her. “Quick, try this with some wine. Here, this piece is good—it’s got a big walnut inside.”

“Mm,” the woman replied, taking the pastry from Ming Xi.

This mysterious woman was beautiful. Her features were light and handsome, particularly the corners of her eyes, which were decorated with upward-sweeping lines of color. Yet, there was nothing arrogant about her; instead, she seemed somewhat despondent.

This was because the corners of her eyes drooped downward.

Indeed, her face… wasn’t very “festive.” Even when she smiled, her eyes remained motionless; only the corners of her mouth turned up, and even then, the arc was slight and perfunctory.

Nevertheless, her appearance was top-tier. Whether judged by individual features or as a whole, this mysterious woman could be called elegant and graceful—she simply wasn’t vivid.

Despite wearing a striking outfit of red and green, the woman felt lifeless.

Her skin wasn’t particularly pale; it was the wheaten complexion common to the people of Xitan. Her features were sharp and possessed a certain aggressiveness, yet she looked as though she couldn’t be bothered to move a muscle. Even her flower-adorned attire failed to brighten her spirit; though there were many blossoms, they didn’t seem to flourish.

If Ming Xi wearing flowers was like embracing the vitality of an entire mountain, then this woman wearing flowers was like forcing the blooms to accompany her in death. There was an indescribable sense of taboo about her.

She was like a bandit of springtime.

Several maidens dressed in red garments approached with bowed backs and hurried, tiny steps to serve dishes to the main table.

The spread was lavish. There were no fewer than eighteen side dishes, while the main course appeared to be the roasted meat placed in the center. The platter was meticulously arranged: a black rock slab held a section of glowing red copper bone, upon which sat slices of fresh raw meat, accompanied by a large bowl of pungent dipping sauce.

“The usual?” the woman sitting next to Ming Xi asked.

“What?” Ming Xi didn’t understand, her attention entirely fixed on the meat.

It looked like beef? Or perhaps not… The slices were deep red with marbled fat like snowflakes, sliced with uniform thickness—altogether very appealing.

The musicians began the main movement of the piece. Clouds of mist billowed out, transforming the sacrificial altar into something resembling a fairyland. Dancers swirled out from the mist, their pale ribbons rising and falling in exquisite beauty.

“Half-raw, half-cooked, right?” the woman asked again, leaning her body sideways.

She sat with absolutely no posture.

She was lazy—lazier than Ming Xi by at least three degrees—looking as if she were intoxicated, finding it a struggle even to lift her eyelids. Yet, she had only finished a single cup of wine.

“How did you know?” Ming Xi asked, staring at the meat. “Don’t you like it? Why aren’t you moving? I’m going for it.”

Ming Xi casually hooked a piece of meat and pressed it against the heated copper bone, searing the chop until it was half-cooked.

“Go ahead. You used to eat it like that, so I know,” the woman said, watching Ming Xi roast the meat and offering a faint smile. “I don’t care for it much, but I eat it for fun occasionally. I just never thought it tasted that great.”

“But it’s delicious!” Ming Xi replied, though she had forgotten why she used to roast meat this way. She looked at the woman beside her, stunned. “Do you… did you know me from before?”

“What do you think?” The “Springtime Bandit” only smiled, leaning her body back lazily as she picked up the jade cup and wine pot from the table.

The bright music swelled, interrupting Ming Xi’s train of thought. She didn’t know how to appreciate music; she could only vaguely distinguish the emotions being played.

Joy, anger, sorrow, resentment—it was just like the sleep-talking of a nightmare ghost. On the surface, the dance music sounded celebratory, but its foundation was clearly that of a funeral dirge.

“I don’t remember you. If you don’t want to admit it, so be it.” Ming Xi shook her head. “Do you watch this performance often? Why do you look so unhappy? Is it that you enjoy being unhappy?”

“What a thing to say.” The mysterious woman took a sip of wine, her eerie smile remaining. “Since I enjoy it, how could I be unhappy? And if I were unhappy, how could it be called enjoyment?”

“Eee-eee-eee, you humans are at it again, saying things a kitty can’t understand.” Ming Xi shook her head, refusing to think, and decided to just watch the dancing.

Once the dancers took the stage, they formed a circle and moved through a slow cycle in front of the guests’ seats, ensuring every guest could see each of them.

Ming Xi frowned. “These dancers…”

“What about them?” Having taken her wine, the woman had already slumped back into her seat, following her question with another sip of lychee brew.

“These dancers are like this meat—half-living, half… dead.” Ming Xi liked meat, but she didn’t much care for people. “They don’t smell very tasty.”

They smelled foul—the scent of corpses.

The beauties passing in front of her were each shrouded in thick veils. None possessed any vitality; it was only their magnificent clothing and fragrant sachets that made them seem less strange.

But they were corpses. Just like the bodies Xiao Xiyue had controlled in the bamboo forest, these were “living corpses” capable of running and moving. While a human might not notice, Ming Xi spotted it instantly.

Wait, hold on.

Speaking of Xiao Xiyue.

“Isn’t this…” Ming Xi caught a trace of a familiar scent, a freshness somewhat like Ji Wu’s. She had also smelled this scent on Xiao Xiyue’s cloak.

“Why are you here?” Ming Xi pointed a finger at the Demon Dragon who had just rotated in front of her. Was the person standing there not Xiao Xiyue? The dragon was dressed sharply, not looking like she came to dance. Even when Ming Xi called out, she didn’t respond.

Instead, the mysterious woman lounging nearby laughed again. “You like this type? You’ve changed quite a bit, old friend.”

Old friend.

Ming Xi grew even more confused, but before she could press for answers, the performance on stage began.

Xiao Xiyue rose onto her tiptoes and leaped into the center of the stage. The living corpses surrounded her, spreading their skirts and whirling in dance.

Their performance was actually decent, but they were far less agile than living people. The only one on stage with true dance skill was likely the Demon Dragon, Xiao Xiyue.

Ming Xi roasted another piece of half-raw meat, wrapped it in sauce, and ate it. She watched Xiao Xiyue, dressed in navy blue, flip her body and use one of the white-clad corpses as a literal stepping stone to leap off the stage, her toes hooking onto the colorful bells and silk ribbons hanging from the hall’s ceiling.

“So light!” Ming Xi clapped her hands. She really hadn’t expected the dragon to have such skills.

“Hmph.” The mysterious woman stretched her back, sitting up slightly straighter. “I watch this every year. It stopped being novel to me a long time ago.”

“Then why do you still watch it every year?” Ming Xi turned her head to ask. “Are you that ‘Great Priest’ they all talk about?”

She asked directly, without a hint of hesitation.

Ming Xi had spent the whole day wandering Zhaoli. Since nightfall, she had come to Tanxi with Ji Wu and seen the bustling streets; naturally, she had heard many rumors about this Great Priest.

Firstly, the Great Priest was a highly respected and prestigious figure in Xitan. The people of Xitan worshipped the Spirit Mountain. In the old days, they sincerely worshipped the Mountain God. Later, after the Mountain God was executed, the people lost their anchor and began to uphold minor gods—namely, the local priests of various counties and towns. However, the Great Priest soon unified the worship of the Xitan people. Every citizen acknowledged that praying to the Great Priest was the most effective.

Secondly, besides being prestigious, the Great Priest was extremely wealthy. The people of Xitan flourished through maritime trade, and as the “minor god” who protected everyone, the Great Priest naturally took a share. It was said she not only held many industries on the surface but beneath the ground as well.

Because the Great Priest was not human—but she wasn’t a ghost either.

The Great Priest was a half-ghost.

“I am,” she answered flatly.

The Great Priest waved her hand. Soon, a woman in red who had been waiting nearby placed an empty silver tray on the table.

She turned to Ming Xi. “Which of them do you think is dancing the most boringly?”

Ming Xi could tell who was dancing the best, but as for the most boring…

There weren’t many dancers on stage. Besides Xiao Xiyue, who was clearly the protagonist, the white-clad corpse she interacted with most probably counted as well. The others were also dressed in pale colors, but Ming Xi had noticed earlier that their clothes were very beautiful.

They looked like royalty—and low-key, elegant royalty at that. It didn’t look like new money, but rather like people of high status…

“Are they pretending to be ‘Scions of the Imperial House’?” Ming Xi used a term she had picked up from a storybook. “The kind of people born into high status?”

“Scions of the Imperial House, hahaha.” The Great Priest nodded with a laugh. “Indeed. You can even see that? Then do you know which play they are performing?”

“I don’t know. But since you asked who is dancing the most boringly, I’ve made my choice. That one—the one wearing the flower crown.” Ming Xi pointed to the living corpse on the far right who was currently holding its hand high.

Ting-ling!

A silver flash erupted. The bells on stage and the bell on the Great Priest’s sleeve rang simultaneously. Immediately, the chatter of the guests fell silent. In an instant, the living corpse that had just been dancing with its hand raised suddenly had no hand.

Thud. A dull sound echoed as a severed corpse hand, encased in a white silk glove to hide its decay, appeared on the silver tray on the table.

The Great Priest peeled off the white silk covering the severed hand, pinched an index finger, snapped it, splashed it with wine, and tossed it into her mouth.

“Oh!” Ming Xi watched with curiosity. “You eat that? What would you call that?”

Raw things soaked in wine are called “raw-pickled.” What do you call dead things? “Death-pickled”?

But that corpse had been dead for days. Could it really taste good with just a bit of lychee wine?

Ming Xi made a face, expressing literal “disdain” with her nose.

The Great Priest chewed nonchalantly. “It’s nothing, just meat. What else is a ghost supposed to eat? If I eat living people, you’ll blame me for being cruel.”

She chewed lazily, her expression not particularly comfortable. She then frowned, took a gulp of wine to clear her throat, and said, “What is this taste? Why is it so fishy? Did it come by sea?”

She hooked her finger to summon a red-clad servant. “Take it away. I hate ‘sea-rot’ the most.”

The red-clad maidservant, trembling with terror, carried the silver tray away. Though she made no mistakes in her movements, her entire body shook like a leaf.

Not just her—all the seated guests were sitting bolt upright. They didn’t dare show too much fear, nor did they dare stop watching the performance, and they certainly didn’t dare stop talking.

Everything was eerily “normal,” disciplined to a fault.

Only Xiao Xiyue on stage remained unaffected. She had just leaped down from her inverted position and looked up at the moon.

The sacrificial altar was open-air, and the moon was bright. Tonight was a waxing crescent, yet the gesture Xiao Xiyue made symbolized a full moon.

“You still can’t see what she’s dancing?” The Great Priest pinched a grape and took a bite.

“What is it? A moon worship?” Ming Xi didn’t understand.

“Imperial family, white clothing.” The Great Priest pointed her finger at the dancers on the altar. “Besieging a masked figure in navy blue?”

“Besieging.” Ming Xi understood instantly. These days, who else could be the subject of a “siege” but that person? “The Divine Lord of Spirit Mountain?”