Little Junior Sister, We Can’t Handle This Grind Anymore - Chapter 16

After bumping into the old man, Su Yanran shoved a low-grade spirit stone into his hand and turned to leave.

The stone’s appearance brought a flicker of surprise to the old man’s impassive face. His gnarled hand shot out, gripping Su Yanran’s shoulder. “What’s the meaning of this, girl?”

Before he could continue, Su Yanran cut in sharply, “Not enough? Fine, here’s five more. Now stop bothering me.” Her eyes burned with irritation—first that wretched Sheng Shike at the Heavenly Sword Sect, now this nuisance on the streets. What awful luck!

“Young lady, is tossing coins your idea of an apology?” The old man’s grip tightened slightly.

Su Yanran’s expression darkened. Was this beggar truly so ungrateful? “You’re the one who ran into me!” Her gaze swept over his threadbare robes and complete lack of spiritual energy, lips curling in contempt. Just some lowlife looking for trouble.

With a flick of her wrist, she sent a mid-grade spirit stone clattering at his feet. “There! Go fetch your prize.” Her voice dripped with mockery.

“Impudent child!” The old man chuckled darkly, his skeletal fingers tightening.

Pain lanced through Su Yanran’s shoulder. Rage flooded her veins—how dare this wretch lay hands on her? A jagged ice spike materialized in her palm, thrusting toward his chest. Let this teach him to block her path!

“Such viciousness!” The old man’s voice turned glacial as he caught the spike mid-air.

Su Yanran’s breath hitched. A cultivator? But his clouded eyes, stooped posture, and feeble aura marked him as one foot in the grave. True experts maintained their majesty even near death’s door. This fossil couldn’t be above Foundation Establishment at best.

Her eyes darted through the smithy-filled streets—no witnesses, the constant hammering drowning out all sound. The killing intent in her gaze sharpened. Best eliminate loose ends.

“Your murderous heart disqualifies you,” the old man sighed, disappointment weighing his words.

Su Yanran’s hand flew to her storage pouch at the phrase “murderous heart.” But the old man merely shook his head and turned away.

Watching his retreating back, Su Yanran’s lips twisted. No risks could remain. Another ice spike flew straight for his heart—the new technique her mysterious benefactor taught her should work even across realms.

Thunk!

The spike struck true, melting into watery blood as the old man collapsed face-down. A thrill ran through Su Yanran—the forbidden technique worked! Without a backward glance, she vanished into the alleyways.

Only after the trailing Divine Transformation expert followed Su Yanran away did Feng Qingran and Mo Jinghong emerge.

Feng Qingran pressed fingers to the old man’s wrist, brow furrowing. “His heart’s destroyed, yet he clings to life? How?”

Turning him over revealed minimal bloodstains. Mo Jinghong examined him closely. “High-level organ displacement art—shifted his heart at the last moment. And he’d taken coagulants beforehand.”

“Premeditated?” Feng Qingran’s stomach dropped. Had fate’s wheels still turned as ordained? The novel never explained why the Kunxuan Pavilion Master would visit Forgemoon City, but historical records showed the northern and southern guilds were bitter rivals. Why would their leader venture into enemy territory alone?

“Ask him yourself.” Mo Jinghong’s lips quirked as he slipped a pill between the old man’s lips.

Feng Qingran stared. “…Seventh Senior Brother?”

“Antidote,” he said mildly.

Her eyes widened. A pre-prepared cure for seventh-grade Soul-Devouring Poison? “You can’t possibly expect me to believe you’re not—”

“Little Junior Sister,” Mo Jinghong interrupted, amusement dancing in his starry eyes, “Mouths exist for asking questions. Time spent guessing could be spent cultivating. The stronger you grow, the more answers will come.”

(Years later, Mo Jinghong would recall this advice with profound regret.)

Feng Qingran’s eye twitched. Well, if he insisted… “Then explain why you just happened to have this antidote?”

“Casually brewed it during alchemy practice.” His nonchalance would make emperors weep.

“Casually? Seventh-grade pills bankrupt mid-tier clans!” The pieces clicked—no wonder Mo Jinghong ran Lingyun Sect’s finances.

He patted her head. “Don’t feel inadequate. I won’t laugh.”

She swatted his hand away. “How magnanimous of you!”

A sudden cough interrupted them. The old man’s hawk-like eyes snapped open, locking onto them with startling clarity.