After Kashalia left, happily carrying her sword, the simple wooden house filled with coffins fell quiet again.

Houses in border towns were never all that luxurious. Just a square room, a bed, and a bit of space for merchandise—that was all.

A blacksmith’s shop would at least have a partition in the middle of the room. It could display goods while blocking the bed at the back, offering a little privacy. But Fenmu’s was only a coffin shop, and it wasn’t as if you could hang coffins on the wall. So from the moment you stepped through the door, you could see the whole place at a glance.

People didn’t usually visit coffin shops very often, so the master and apprentice had a pretty leisurely life, with few interruptions.

“She’s finally gone!” Fenmu stretched, then flopped onto the bed and wrapped his arms around Anastasia’s long, shapely legs. They were smooth, pale, and springy, with a hint of coolness to them, like tender tofu just lifted from a cold well.

The purple-haired woman was lying on her stomach, writing something in a notebook. She never hid what she wrote from her adorable disciple, though Fenmu never asked about it. He figured it was private and that it wouldn’t be right to pry.

“Master, what do you always write in there?” And so he asked anyway.

“I suppose it’s a habit. A very, very long time ago, I was an ordinary court historian. I no longer have the duty of recording major events, but I’ve kept the habit.” Anastasia casually tossed the notebook aside. The old-fashioned, beautifully bound book vanished into thin air. She’d only been writing to satisfy an itch; the words themselves were just scribbles.

“I see~” Fenmu lay back on the bed and let out a long sigh. “We didn’t sell a single coffin today, either!”

Maybe he should set a rule: no extra services unless the customer bought a coffin first. Otherwise, it was a terrible deal. Nobody appreciated how comfortable his coffins were.

The old man he’d once brought back to life with a dose of medicine had gotten hooked on sleeping in coffins. He praised the comfort of the coffins from Fenmu’s shop to everyone he met, urging them to buy one and give it a try. You could sleep in it whenever you were tired, and if you suddenly dropped dead one day, they could carry you straight back and pack you into it, ready for the crematorium to come pick up the delivery. A high-value product that served you from life to death—buy early, enjoy early; buy late, regret it.

Fenmu really appreciated customer feedback like that. It was a shame the advertising didn’t do much. People in town even slandered him, claiming he’d drugged the old man with **.

Anastasia shook her head helplessly. She’d lost count of how many times Fenmu had made that same complaint; it was practically become a catchphrase. She sat up and let her apprentice rest his head on her thighs. Her tone turned a little stern as she said:

“Then what were you doing, going to the mining area alone a few days ago? You haven’t even practiced the combat techniques I taught you. That was reckless.”

That was why Fenmu happened to have a whole bucket of magic potion that could heal the Nun. He’d gone in there a few days earlier and knew what kinds of monsters were inside, so he’d prepared a bucket of potion. It just so happened that someone came along to test its effects.

The town had also passed inaccurate information up the chain largely because Fenmu had walked out of the mining area right in front of everyone.

If even an unremarkable male coffin-maker could come out unscathed, how dangerous could the place really be? So before reporting the situation, the mayor and the others simply couldn’t be bothered to go in and inspect it for themselves.

As for Fenmu—he was rather embarrassed to admit it, but he still hadn’t learned a single combat technique. Mostly because, back when he ate bamboo rats, he’d stacked the blade blank’s attributes way too high. With that, combat techniques weren’t much use to him anyway.

For example, if the Radiant Paladin from earlier had decided to fight him, one slash from Fenmu might have killed her.

But he’d kept that little detail from Anastasia. She might be gentle and doting toward Fenmu now, but that was because she believed he had no talent for fighting. At heart, this false-god master of his had a somewhat cruel, combative streak. If she found out, Fenmu figured his days would be numbered.

Besides, he still had no idea just how strong Anastasia really was.

In short: better to play it safe! That was the foundation of slacking off!

“I wanted to look for new ores. Before the last Blood Moon, the miners in town dug some mysterious ore out of the mine, and everyone was in an uproar about it. I wanted to see if I could find some with a higher purity.” He paused, then added, “Or find a big piece and refine it myself.”

“If you’d taken the time to properly master the combat techniques I taught you, you’d already be able to run wild in the mining area. I took you on as my apprentice, and yet I haven’t taught you anything at all?” A bewitching purple light shimmered across Anastasia’s fingers. She wrote several runes in the air, then pressed them onto Fenmu.

It was a kind of witchcraft rune for sensing danger. It could send Fenmu’s body away from danger through some mysterious means.

“That’s not true. You’re always using joint locks and beauty stomps and stuff on me, Master. I think my ability to take a beating has improved a lot.” Fenmu was actually enjoying it a little.

The woman rolled her eyes. The unintentional display of her captivating charm made her look utterly alluring as she said:

“I’ll have to leave for a while soon, to check on your seniors. I only passed my knowledge on to them and then left them to their own devices, but I suppose I should go see how they’re doing.”

She’d been planning to visit her other apprentices for a long time. But when she’d been amusing herself by committing suicide, she’d found observing Fenmu rather interesting, so she’d put it off. Even when she went to visit, Anastasia wouldn’t reveal her true form. She’d only watch from the sidelines like a detached spectator, as objectively as a court historian recording events.

“Wait, I have other fellow disciples?” Fenmu was stunned. This was the first he’d heard of it.

“Of course. But all I did for them was pass on knowledge of combat techniques.” Anastasia lifted her head and gazed at the ceiling, lost in memory for a moment. Then she continued, “Come to think of it, you ran into one of them while carrying my ‘corpse’ on your back.”

That had happened? Fenmu searched his memories carefully, but all he could recall were flashes of beautiful bottoms and legs. How awkward...

“I don’t remember,” he said regretfully. “So when will you be back, Master?”

“That depends on whether I come across anything interesting. If everyone I meet is boring, I probably won’t even be gone a week.” Anastasia gazed playfully at her only male disciple, lightly tracing a fingertip along his cheek. “What’s wrong? Worried I won’t come back?”

She’d hit the nail on the head. Fenmu felt a little embarrassed, so he quickly steered the conversation away from this dangerous topic:

“I was thinking of making you a little present, Master. It’d be a problem if I finished it and couldn’t find you to give it to.”

Surprise appeared on Anastasia’s face. Why had he suddenly decided to give her a present? She nodded and said:

“Then I’ll look forward to it. I hope you can come up with something decent. Otherwise, you’d better prepare yourself to suffer.”

Hearing that, Fenmu felt relieved. Of course, he only meant that he wouldn’t have to worry about being unable to find her when it was time to give her the present. Whether she’d actually approve of it was another matter. Ahem...

“Then don’t be too strict, Master~”

“Here, take this.” A purple orb of knowledge, radiating deathly energy, appeared at her fingertips. Anastasia placed it in Fenmu’s mind and said, “It contains knowledge of witchcraft and combat techniques. Practice whenever the mood strikes you. You can also use it to have a little get-together with your seniors.”