Master, Your Salted Fish Has Arrived - Chapter 1
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She found herself in an antique, ethereal room, dressed in a light green gown, seated cross-legged on a meditation cushion. Her hands were forming a lotus mudra, as though she had been cultivating.
…But hadn’t she just pulled an all-nighter revising design drafts, slumped over her desk at home without even taking a shower? The last thing she remembered was falling asleep, face buried in her laptop. And these hands—slender, pale, jade-like—were definitely not hers. While she was still staring in disbelief at the delicate fingers resting on her knees, a sharp knocking suddenly sounded at the door.
Knock, knock, knock.
Her heart lurched. She rose hesitantly, took three deep breaths to steel herself, and opened the door.
Standing outside was a man in his thirties, refined and otherworldly in a gray-green Daoist robe. He gave her a serene smile.
“Junior Sister Liao, Master has summoned you to the Bamboo Melody Secluded Garden.”
Zou Yan blinked. Junior Sister Liao? Master? Bamboo Melody Secluded Garden? What was all this? If this really was transmigration, why didn’t she get the standard package—memories, a guide, or at least a cheat sheet? Ah, she was going to die here!
“Uh… Senior Brother?” she asked tentatively.
The man’s smile widened. “Junior Sister, are you nervous? Don’t be. Master just wants to give you a few instructions. Go on quickly.” He gestured to take his leave.
“Wait!” Zou Yan blurted out, forcing a sheepish smile. “Senior Brother, could you… maybe take me there? I might get lost otherwise.”
To her relief, he didn’t question her odd request. Instead, he nodded amiably and led the way.
As they walked, he added kindly, “Junior Sister Liao, you needn’t worry. Our Clear Valley Heaven isn’t like other places—we don’t place much weight on such things.”
Zou Yan trailed behind, nodding when appropriate, pretending to listen. But inside, her thoughts were in chaos. What the hell is all this? I don’t understand a word!
Along the way, they passed several disciples in green robes who greeted them warmly, calling her Junior Sister Liao and her companion Senior Brother Su. Younger boys in plain robes even bowed to her as Senior Sister Liao. By observing quietly, she managed to piece together a few key concepts—soul transmigration, immortal cultivation, and a major sect.
I’m doomed. I’m just a designer, not an actress. What if they find out I’m an imposter? Will I be punished?
Her spiraling thoughts were cut off when Senior Brother Su stopped at the edge of a bamboo forest. He indicated that she should go on alone, then departed with a graceful swish of his robe.
Zou Yan swallowed hard. With no choice but to press on, she stepped onto a narrow path lined with tall bamboo. Nine ceremonial bamboo gates marked the way, and at the end stood a small bamboo palace.
No sign, no plaque. She hesitated, doubting herself, until a calm voice from inside called out, “Disciple Ting Yan, why don’t you come in?”
So this was the place. And now she had a crucial piece of information: the name of her borrowed body—Liao Ting Yan.
She entered and saw a young man in his twenties turn to greet her, his expression gentle and affectionate.
“…Master,” Zou Yan managed, though doubt gnawed at her. This is my master? He looks younger than me!
“You’ve been under my tutelage for three months now,” he said warmly. “Why are you still so formal? Haven’t I told you—you are like a daughter to me. Treat me as your father. Don’t be distant.”
Zou Yan: “…” Are you serious? You look like a boy band idol and want me to call you father?
Sensing that the more she spoke the greater her risk of slipping up, she used her New Year family survival tactic—smile silently. As expected, her master didn’t notice anything strange. He invited her to sit and drink tea, speaking in the soothing tone of a homeroom teacher counseling a nervous student.
“The reason I summoned you is because of the selection in three days. There’s no need to worry—just go with the flow. You joined late, your cultivation is still low, and your seniority is at the bottom. This time, all eight major palaces will choose outstanding disciples, and Clear Valley Heaven is only sending representatives.”
It sounded suspiciously like being told not to stress over poor exam results.
Finally, he concluded, “In three days, I will send you off. Be prepared.”
Zou Yan instinctively glanced at the top of his head. She half-expected to see a floating scroll or an exclamation mark, as if he were an NPC giving her a quest.
When she finally made it back to her room, she collapsed with relief. Pretending to be someone else was exhausting. She wanted nothing more than to wake up from this nightmare.
Then, out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a mirror.
She froze, then rushed over.
The face staring back at her was stunning—ethereal, fairy-like. Her breath caught. Good heavens, what kind of immortal beauty is this? She touched her cheek in awe. Alright. I take it back. I don’t want to die anymore. With a face like this, every extra day of survival is a blessing.
From then on, she accepted her role as Liao Ting Yan—at least temporarily.
It wasn’t hard to gather basic facts. From disciples and attendants, she learned that she had become a new disciple of True Immortal Dong Yang, only at the Qi Condensation stage, with average talent and three spiritual roots.
She belonged to the largest orthodox sect in the cultivation world, the Gengchen Immortal Mansion. The sect was so vast that its disciples could form a country. Her master’s small branch, Clear Valley Heaven, was just one Immortal Cave under one of the eight great palaces.
In short: her cultivation was weak, her rank was low, and she was a tiny shrimp in a sea of giants.
There was also gossip: True Immortal Dong Yang had only taken her in because she looked exactly like his daughter, who had died decades ago. He treated her with fatherly care, and all the senior brothers were indulgent toward her. As the only female disciple of Clear Valley Heaven, her position was unusually favored.
Now his earlier words made sense—it was all tied to a major event shaking the entire sect.
One of the highest elders of Gengchen Immortal Mansion, the Dharma Lord of Compassionate Repository, was about to end his five-hundred-year seclusion. His seniority surpassed even the sect leader’s; he was like a grand emperor among immortals. More importantly, he was the last remaining descendant of the sect’s founding Sima bloodline.
Naturally, his return was monumental. To honor him, the sect leaders decided to select one hundred outstanding disciples to serve him. Strangely, only female disciples were eligible. Which meant that Liao Ting Yan, as the only female in her branch, was automatically on the candidate list.
“…So this is basically like an emperor choosing concubines,” she thought grimly.
On the third day, her eternally youthful-looking master personally escorted her to the selection. Only then did she truly grasp the scale of the Gengchen Immortal Mansion. Even flying on his magical artifact at dizzying speed, it still took two hours to reach the venue. Along the way, vast immortal mountains and endless affiliated cities stretched before her.
“The Qu Dong Thirty-Six Immortal Mountains extend for eight thousand eight hundred and eighty-eight li,” True Immortal Dong Yang explained. “All of this belongs to our sect. Many disciples will live their whole lives here, like citizens of the mortal world.”
Zou Yan’s jaw nearly dropped. What kind of mega-corporation is this?
From afar, she saw a colossal square, vast as a plain. Majestic jade pillars flanked the center axis, lined with towering palaces. Thousands of disciples were already assembled, more arriving by the minute. The sheer scale was overwhelming.
Her master gave her an encouraging look, like a parent dropping a child off at an exam, then left her among the sea of candidates.
Zou Yan stood at the edge, dazed. It was like a beauty pageant, except every contestant looked like a fairy. After a while, the sheer level of beauty became exhausting to behold.
“Excuse me, which branch are you from, Junior Sister?” one dazzling disciple asked politely.
Zou Yan replied with practiced politeness, “I am a disciple of True Immortal Dong Yang from Clear Valley Heaven.”
The woman covered her mouth, laughing softly, though her eyes flashed with disdain. “Oh, not Junior Sister, but Junior Niece.” Then she turned away.
Zou Yan quickly realized that nearly everyone here had heaven-defying talents—single spiritual roots, rare mutations, or top-tier dual roots. They were prodigies, the kind legends were written about. No wonder they looked down on her. If not for her devastating beauty, they might not even have spoken to her.
Well, she thought with some relief, the leader was right. I’m just here as a placeholder.
Then the deep toll of a bell silenced the crowd.
Five-colored light streaked down from the heavens, solidifying into five figures at the steps of the great hall. Even from afar, their overwhelming presence made it difficult to look directly at them.
“They’re the palace masters!” someone whispered.
Zou Yan’s ears perked up as the women beside her gossiped in hushed excitement.
An elderly man stepped forward, his voice carrying across the plain. “Today, we will select one hundred disciples to serve the Dharma Lord of Compassionate Repository after he emerges from seclusion.”
As his words ended, ten thousand beams of spiritual light descended, enveloping every disciple present. Zou Yan held her breath as one by one, the lights extinguished—until only one hundred people remained shining.
She looked down.
She was glowing.
“…Wait, WHAT?”
Wasn’t she supposed to be here just for show? How on earth had she been chosen?!
Chapter 2.