Chapter 8:

For a long time, Yuhengzi remained silent. His glass-like eyes churned with emotion as he placed the scripture in his hand on the stone table and asked Xue Ying in a calm tone, “Are you so eager to leave my side?”

Though Yuhengzi was her master, their relationship was far from harmonious—it could even be described as adversarial. There was always a faint undercurrent of killing intent from Yuhengzi toward Xue Ying.

The question was whether to kill her now or let her grow stronger first.

Yuhengzi, a man who had long since defeated all challengers, had reached a point of profound boredom—there were simply no worthy opponents left.

Idle to the point of frustration, Yuhengzi took up a mischievous friend’s suggestion: to take on a disciple—specifically, to cultivate his own future enemy. In short, it was an invitation for trouble.

Xue Ying had been taken in under these circumstances. Yuhengzi held high hopes for her, envisioning the day she would grow into a formidable rival whom he could thoroughly thrash.

For a battle maniac like Yuhengzi, such thoughts weren’t unusual. The problem was, he lacked patience. Instead of waiting for Xue Ying to mature, he would pounce at the slightest sign of her progress in swordsmanship.

To think he could be so ruthless even to a young girl—what a beast!

When Yuhengzi left to seek fights elsewhere, young Xue Ying would dance with joy, wishing he’d never return.

Xue Ying: *The happiest thought I have is sticking three incense sticks on your grave and singing “Happy Birthday” to you.*

Later, Yuhengzi disappeared for ten years, to the point where Xue Ying nearly forgot she even had a master.

Now that he was back, memories of Yuhengzi mercilessly beating her as a child resurfaced, and she immediately cowered.

“Your disciple wouldn’t dare.”

Xue Ying lowered her head slightly, revealing a graceful, pale neck. Her voice carried a subtle note of flattery. The renowned beauty, known for her aloofness in front of others, turned soft and pliant in Yuhengzi’s presence.

*Pathetic.*

Yuhengzi averted his gaze and said indifferently, “It’s not due to cultivation techniques. I merely had an unusual encounter along the way, which led to my current state.”

Xue Ying exhaled in relief. That made sense—the Taixuan Sect practiced the *Tongchen Sword Art* uniformly, and she had never heard of anyone suffering qi deviation from it.

“When will Master recover?”

A hint of warmth flickered in Yuhengzi’s eyes. “You’re concerned about me?”

Xue Ying nodded, then added before he could speak further, “Do you need me to take care of you? If it’s serious, could you pass your title of Sword Immortal to me? I owe the Taichu Sect a mountain of debt, and I heard that becoming a Sword Immortal means you don’t have to pay it back.”

She envied Yuhengzi deeply—two major sects supported him, and she’d heard that even medical treatments at Taisu Valley were entirely free for him. The pinnacle of freeloading.

Yuhengzi fell silent for a long time. His fingers traced the scripture’s words, lingering over the *Qingjing Jing*, his voice carrying a forced calm that bordered on gritted teeth. “No need for your concern. A few days of rest will suffice.”

Xue Ying was visibly disappointed. “Oh.”

*Then I’ll just have to kill him.*

Unwilling to dwell on the topic, Yuhengzi abruptly changed the subject. “I’ve heard you possess the Voice of Diting—a power that reveals the truth.”

At the mention of this, Xue Ying touched the veil over her mouth, recalling the Voice’s words that day. She grew awkward. “Master shouldn’t believe it. That thing sometimes spouts nonsense. I hold nothing but reverence for you, without a trace of disloyalty. I’ve never forgotten the oath I swore when I entered the sect.”

“Oh?” Yuhengzi lifted his gaze, seemingly seeing through her nervousness. “Recite it for me again.”

Xue Ying hesitated for a long while before finally lowering her head shyly under his stare and murmuring, *”If I win, you have to call me Daddy.”*

Yuhengzi: “…”

If she hadn’t been so audacious, Yuhengzi might not have taken her as his disciple. The ideal was beautiful, but reality was harsh—she ended up beaten black and blue, crying for mercy.

*And now she’s stuck with him for life, even responsible for his funeral.*

The topic of the Voice of Diting ended there. Yuhengzi then inquired about Xue Ying’s training and swordsmanship. On this, she was brimming with confidence. “Your disciple has never neglected practice. Once Master recovers, I will challenge you again.”

As she spoke, a surge of sword intent erupted around her, and *Bailu* resonated within its sheath. The entire cave was filled with a terrifying aura—the lingering sword energy clashing with Xue Ying’s own.

Yuhengzi turned a page of his scripture, unfazed. Only when Xue Ying’s sword intent dissipated did he speak. “I’m pleased to see how far you’ve grown. Given time, you will undoubtedly become…”

*A Sword Immortal?* No, he already held that title.

Yuhengzi paused, then continued, “My condition prevents me from teaching sword techniques. Liu Junzhuo has just entered the sect and possesses a natural Sword Bone, much like you. I’ll leave his guidance to you.”

*Here it comes—the cursed plot device.* Xue Ying was exasperated. “If he’s a beginner, he should learn alongside the other disciples. Special treatment will only invite criticism.”

*He hasn’t even graduated elementary school, and he’s trying to skip to university? Get lost!*

Yuhengzi countered, “Have you forgotten how you started?”

Xue Ying thought back—she had been beaten into submission. “Spare the rod, spoil the child. Should I do the beating, or will Master handle it?”

Yuhengzi’s long lashes trembled slightly, as if finally weary of her antics. “Fine. Do as you wish. I’m tired—you may leave.”

Xue Ying didn’t dwell on it. She bowed obediently, but before leaving, she added, “Master need not worry. In my heart, you’re like a father to me. I’ll take good care of you.”

Yuhengzi turned his back, unwilling to hear another word of her “heartfelt” sentiments.

Regardless of Yuhengzi’s thoughts, Xue Ying felt much better after speaking her mind. She initially planned to return to her cave but decided to visit the Merit Hall instead to see if there were any tasks she could take.

Truth be told, after so many years, she had mostly forgotten the plot of *The Great Dao*. Aside from a few eccentric characters and the protagonist’s encounters, she had no recollection of the heroine’s adventures.

But she didn’t dwell on it. With the Voice of Diting bestowed by the Heavenly Dao, she knew she was destined to be the heroine—the kind who stumbled upon fortuitous encounters wherever she went.

“Senior Sister.”

…*She took that back. This kind of “encounter” was not welcome.*

Liu Junzhuo stood before the Merit Hall. The standard Taixuan Sect robes accentuated his youthful vigor, a sword at his waist and a jade slip in hand. The sunlight outside bathed him in a golden glow, painting an almost ethereal scene.

Xue Ying hesitated. She considered stopping to greet him for courtesy’s sake, but noticing the onlookers’ gazes, she inexplicably decided to bypass him entirely and head straight inside.

*Like or dislike—why should she force herself to interact with someone she didn’t care for?*

She strode past Liu Junzhuo and addressed the Merit Hall attendant. “I’d like to take a task.”

The attendant blinked, startled, before hurriedly snapping to attention at Xue Ying’s impatient tap on the counter. “Of course.”

Selecting a high-reward mission, Xue Ying thanked him, ignored the stares, and left.

Later that evening, Wen An came to see her and brought up the day’s events. “I heard you snubbed Liu Junzhuo at the Merit Hall.”

Xue Ying, busy studying a map of White Deer Valley, didn’t look up. “Snub? I just ignored him.”

Wen An tossed her a spirit fruit, watching as she devoured one after another. After feeding her eight, Xue Ying finally began venting.

“He’s in poor health, yet he insists on taking a disciple and then dumps him on me. Does he think I have nothing better to do?”

As a major sect in the Daoist world, Taixuan had obligations to fulfill. Over the years, Wen An handled internal affairs while she managed external matters. The sect’s reputation as the “Twin Prodigies” hadn’t come from nowhere—it was earned through her efforts outside.

Wen An handed her a malt candy, smiling. “After all that, you’re just complaining about Master Yuheng.”

Xue Ying chewed the candy, mumbling, “I wouldn’t dare…”

As soon as she swallowed, Wen An produced a stick of candied hawthorns, beaming. “Finish this, then let’s get to work.”

Xue Ying stared for a moment before snatching the treat, tucking away the map, and silently following Wen An.

“Busy month?”

Wen An handed her a stack of sketches, grinning. “The last issue was a hit. The publisher wants an extra edition, so I’ll need your help.”

Xue Ying, still nibbling on the candied hawthorn, fumbled and dropped the sketches. As she picked them up, the risqué illustrations made her blood boil—especially because…

“*The Purehearted Disciple and Her Dashing Master*?”

Wen An smiled sweetly. “Super popular.”

“Care to brainstorm the plot with me? I always learn so much from our discussions.”

Xue Ying nodded absently as she flipped through the pages. The faces were unrecognizable, but the scenarios felt eerily familiar.

*Bailu* was at Wen An’s throat in an instant, Xue Ying’s expression icy. “Hand over the *Purehearted Disciple* manuscripts.”

Wen An sighed. “If this sells, Taixuan won’t have to worry about expenses for the next six months. Can you really bear to see your juniors suffer?”

Xue Ying sneered. “Yes.”

With the guilt trip failing, Wen An resorted to pragmatism. He carefully edged away from *Bailu* and gritted out, “Thirty-seventy split.”

“Forty-sixty!”

And that was that. Xue Ying sheathed *Bailu* and sat back down to help Wen An color the illustrations.

*A scholar would rather die than be humiliated—but Wen An’s offer was simply too good.*

*Besides, Yuhengzi had been single for millennia. He’d never read romance novels, let alone stories about master-disciple relationships.*

As she worked, she flipped through the sketches and frowned. “Why is there a sword spirit subplot?”

After years of swordsmanship, she’d never heard of sword spirits taking human form.

Wen An meticulously outlined a character’s features, still mourning his lost profits. “What’s the issue? Everyone loves sword spirits turning human. If *Bailu* one day transformed into a dashing young man, wouldn’t you be tempted? Say something.”

“Of course I’d have something to say.” Xue Ying’s voice was frosty.

*”Change back.”*