The Aloof Master Relies on This Cat's Kisses to Survive - Chapter 37

The West Tarn Deceptive Nightmare

“Rumor has it that the massacre was cruel to the extreme. Not a single living soul was left in the entire Imperial City. Even the earthworms were sliced in half, and the chicken eggs had to be shaken until the yolks scattered.”

The High Priestess spoke while laughing, as if she were describing something as trivial as a few children tripping over a jump rope by the roadside.

“Massacre?” Ming Xi had already polished off the meat on the table. She imitated the High Priestess by hooking her finger, signaling the red-robed maid to bring her another serving.

“Massacre,” the High Priestess repeated. “Why?”

“Was it an encirclement or a massacre?” Ming Xi murmured to herself, not really intending to ask.

This High Priestess spoke in riddles; asking her questions only made things more confusing.

“To the Spirit Mountain God Lord, it was an encirclement; to the commoners of the Imperial City, it was a massacre. They don’t conflict. Regardless, everyone died,” the High Priestess shrugged.

The dance on the sacrificial altar continued.

“Not everyone died.” Ming Xi pointed at Xiao Xiyue on the stage, who was currently spiraling in combat with the white-clad corpse. “Grandmaster Ji Wu survived, and… and there are some members of the Dongfang clan, aren’t there? It wasn’t a total loss of life.”

“Ji Wu? She ascended long ago; she hardly counts as a survivor. And… forget it. If we define ‘not dead’ literally, then she indeed did not die. However, in my view, that massacre was beautifully executed. Not a single one should have remained.”

The High Priestess laughed and downed another cup, then feigned a rather regretful expression. “Oh, if you insist on saying someone remained, then perhaps… half a person?”

“Half?”

“Half.”

“…You?”

Fortunately, Ming Xi finally caught onto the High Priestess’s train of thought. “You are that ‘half,’ aren’t you?”

“Precisely,” the High Priestess said, roasting a slice of meat for herself.

The temperature of the copper bone was very high; the meat steak emitted white smoke the moment it was placed down, releasing fat and aroma.

The High Priestess clearly didn’t intend to eat semi-raw food like Ming Xi, yet she didn’t flip the meat either. She simply let it continue to sear on the copper bone.

The smoke, smelling of roasted meat, gradually thickened like the white mist on the stage simulating the Dream Fire.

The color of the meat steak changed repeatedly, turning from a delicious, inviting charred brown to a scorched, blackened carbon.

“It’s cooked,” Ming Xi frowned.

“It’s cooked,” the High Priestess smiled, looking toward the dance on the stage.

Xiao Xiyue, dressed as the Spirit Mountain God Lord, exchanged dance steps back and forth with the white-clad dancer. The dragon-snake demon’s movements were sharp and decisive. Although the corpse was somewhat stiff, its coordination was adequate, and its handling of the wooden sword was respectable.

The other living corpses nearby were also performing methodically, much more controlled than when they were seen in the bamboo forest. Xiao Xiyue must have used the Lunar Phase Tide to orchestrate this performance.

What was the point? Ming Xi couldn’t understand. Do the people of West Tarn enjoy watching a performance of the Spirit Mountain God Lord being surrounded and killed? Don’t they like that ‘Big Baddie’?

How could they bear to watch her die?

“You say you’re a survivor of the encirclement? You were in the Imperial City back then?” Ming Xi became curious.

“I was in the Imperial City back then, yes.” The High Priestess nodded. “But I don’t want to call myself a survivor. Where is the luck in that? Is it being supported by half a soul scorched by the Dream Fire? Or is it because of that experience that I picked up this identity revered by ten thousand people?”

“Living is enough,” Ming Xi shrugged. “Dying is boring, and you’d smell.”

“Is that why you chose to survive in such a way?” The High Priestess tilted her head back to drink, then casually tossed the wine pot aside, tapping the jade cup with her finger. “Bring something stronger.”

A red-robed maid quickly served the strong liquor.

“Me? I never went to the Imperial City.” Ming Xi shook her head. “But I know someone who did. Do you know Ji Wu—Dongfang Ji Wu?”

“Dongfang Ji Wu?” The High Priestess raised an eyebrow in disdain. “She wants to use the name Dongfang again?”

“You know her!” Ming Xi’s eyes fixed on the High Priestess. “Then you really did participate in the encirclement.”

The High Priestess laughed loudly, causing the guests present to fall silent for a moment, though they quickly returned to their eerie, disciplined behavior.

Ming Xi felt these people were very strange—or rather, very obedient.

“Dongfang Ji Wu. Fine.” The High Priestess uttered those four words, then looked toward a discreetly dressed figure in the outer corner of the guest seating.

Their eyes met, both gazes hiding murderous intent.

Seeing the sudden sharpness in the other’s eyes, Ming Xi became a bit more serious. “You and Wuwu knew each other before, but you didn’t get along?”

“Not as badly as you and she didn’t get along.” The High Priestess snorted, turning back to Ming Xi. “You ungrateful white cat. You forgot who wanted to kill you, yet you remember who formed a bond with you.”

“I never understand what you’re saying,” Ming Xi expressed her dissatisfaction directly. “Either explain it to me plainly, or I won’t talk to you anymore.”

“Then don’t talk to me. See for yourself.” The High Priestess lifted her chin, gesturing for Ming Xi to watch the performance.

The atmosphere on stage, like the new wine the High Priestess had switched to, became more and more intense.

The smoke symbolized the unquenchable Dream Fire, swirling and gathering like clouds, spreading toward the guest seats.

Just as the spectators below were distracted by the white smoke, suddenly, the white-clad dancer lunged with her sword at Xiao Xiyue.

Though it was clearly an unsharpened wooden sword, it seemed to flash with a cold light as it struck. The force of the move carried a ghostly wind, causing everyone to hold their breath and gasp; some were even choked into a fit of coughing by the smoke.

Xiao Xiyue, however, was not nervous at all. She performed a beautiful backbend right where she stood to avoid the blade. The wooden tip brushed past her dragon mask, and the music reached its climax at that very moment.

Simultaneously, the other dancers circling her drew their wooden swords, closing in on the dragon-snake demon from all directions.

The music was stirring, the drumbeats like a violent storm.

There were only a dozen or so people on stage, yet they danced with the momentum of an entire city under siege.

The dragon-snake demon, though surrounded, showed no fear. Every time her toes touched the ground, she remained agile and light. Her movements were vigorous, and every gesture was handled with ease. Although her expression was hidden, the sense of calm and uninhibited freedom was vividly portrayed by Xiao Xiyue.

Ming Xi watched in a trance, as if she were actually there.

She clearly disliked the Spirit Mountain God Lord, didn’t she? Why was she nervous because the God Lord was surrounded? And why did she feel a sense of gratification at the God Lord’s nonchalant elegance?

Swish—swish—

Xiao Xiyue’s sword moves brushed past several dancers as she turned to meet the white-clad blade lunging at her once more.

She spun again to avoid it, but several blades of the “Imperial Nobility” were already waiting behind her.

Her high-bound hair loosened at that moment, her deep green tresses sweeping across one of the sword edges. The blade and the hanging bells chimed together. Ming Xi seemed to see a strand of severed hair and a few drops of cold sweat falling toward the surface of a lake.

A lake? Ming Xi froze for a second, feeling as though she had stepped onto an unstable deck, wobbling for a moment.

The zither strings tightened and twanged. The dragon mask on Xiao Xiyue’s face shattered as a sharp suona wailed a high note. Time seemed to freeze; the white smoke permeating the area suddenly transformed into a crimson mist.

The music stopped abruptly, leaving only an echo.

Thud.

Only at the very end did the sound of the two broken pieces of the dragon mask hitting the floor ring out.

“Whoo!” Ming Xi was the first to clap. “Bravo!”

Only then did the guests regain their senses, following suit with applause and cheers.

Xiao Xiyue took her bow in the thick red smoke. Her makeup was very heavy, different from the dragon-snake style seen in the bamboo forest.

She was painted with cat eyes of different colors and a split mouth.

“That was a great dance. Even if I see it every year, I like it.” Ming Xi looked up, trying to find Ji Wu to share her excitement.

She wondered how much Ji Wu had seen, if the angle was good, and if she had seen it clearly.

“Is that so?” The High Priestess’s voice was low, her words slow. “I’ve watched it for eight years, and I find no joy in it.”

“Eh? Your festival has only been running for seven years. You’re lying.” This couldn’t fool Ming Xi. She had heard many stories about the festival on her way here. This ceremony started seven years ago to commemorate the Spirit Mountain God Lord.

The ‘Big Baddie’ died eight years ago, so the period of commemoration was naturally seven years.

“Eight times. It’s been eight years.” The High Priestess did not concede, sticking to her statement. “I’ve watched it eight times.”

There she went again, saying things Ming Xi didn’t understand. The Dream Beast shook her head and decided not to bother, asking directly: “Your festival is so strange. What exactly are you worshiping? They said you were choosing a newcomer. Have you made your choice?”

The High Priestess shook her head. “I won’t be choosing one this year. This year, I’ve met an old acquaintance.”

“Ah, I see.” Ming Xi nodded, assuming the High Priestess meant Xiao Xiyue. “Then I have one more thing to ask. Do you know how to read the moon?”

“Read the moon?” The High Priestess looked up.

The waxing crescent was beautiful. The smoke on the stage had cleared significantly, and the moon was visible again from the open sacrificial altar.

“I read in a book that lunar phases affect monsters. Since coming to West Tarn, I’ve encountered a strange wind that also affects them.” Ming Xi looked at the High Priestess with a face full of sincerity. “Are you the one causing trouble? You look very, very wicked.”

“…” The High Priestess stared at her for a long time before finally speaking. “Even if I were causing trouble, I wouldn’t admit it.”

“Fair point.” Ming Xi nodded in agreement, then heard the High Priestess add:

“I won’t admit it, but I can let you see for yourself if it is me.”

As soon as her voice fell.

A fishy, ghostly wind suddenly poured into the sacrificial altar.

Initially, it blew up dust from the ground, then it startled a chorus of cries from the spirit beasts.

The guests hurriedly tried to soothe the beasts around them. Whether they were spirit pets or mounts, they were usually docile, but now they suddenly bared their fangs.

“Sit down! Or I’ll use the collar!”

Someone was threatening their spirit pet.

The response was an even sharper shriek.

Then, the demons hidden among the crowd lost control and began to frenzy. Even Xiao Xiyue on the stage was twitching her dragon gills, her cat-eyed painted eyes turning red and swollen, bulging as if they were about to burst.

She couldn’t control herself, and naturally, she couldn’t control the living corpses on the stage.

“Run! Run!”

“Help!”

“Don’t bite me—”

The wind continued to blow, transforming from a whispering undercurrent into a roaring, giant wave. The myriad bells jingled and crashed; every strike was sharp and ear-piercing.

The stench of decay in the air gathered into a vortex, twisting as if it were about to vomit pus, making anyone who saw it feel dizzy and nauseous.

The cries of cranes, the cawing of crows, the roars of beasts, and the weeping of humans merged into a chaotic mess.

“Tsk.” Ming Xi only viewed it as a spectacle, finding it quite novel. As long as Ji Wu was fine, what did the rest matter to a cat?

She had already located Ji Wu’s whereabouts. The plainly dressed figure was jumping onto the side of the sacrificial altar with her hands behind her back.

The Grandmaster’s expression was cold and aloof. Evidently, unlike Ming Xi, she did not enjoy watching this chaos.