The girl covered her face with one hand. Through the gaps between her fingers, she glimpsed apricot-colored robes unfurling layer upon layer across the ground.
The newcomer landed, stirring up a surge of air. He carried the faint, bitter scent of medicine, which wafted on the wind straight to her nose, stirring memories of their time together in the Medicine Hut.
The scripture lecture had just ended, and since he was nearby, he had come over.
Li Yin’s raised hand hung suspended in midair, her mind a complete blank.
She had somewhat forgotten how to use her skills and couldn’t recall if she had successfully cast the spell just now.
The girl seemed utterly terrified, standing frozen in place without moving a muscle.
Seeing that she appeared scared silly, and knowing this trick never failed, the male cultivator felt immensely pleased with himself.
Although Elder Fu wasn’t his master, he was the one who cared most for the sect’s disciples.
This outsider female cultivator had argued with him and even dared to strike him. With Elder Fu here, she would surely have to apologize to him.
He was basking in self-satisfaction, completely oblivious to the fact that the Elder Fu he had called over had suddenly staggered a step.
His own elder ignored him entirely and walked straight toward the hooded female cultivator.
As if that outsider girl were the disciple he urgently needed to protect.
“You—” The trembling word cut short, vanishing abruptly between his lips and teeth. His lips moved several times, but he couldn’t speak.
Years of accumulated affection and longing surged to his heart in that moment, clogging his throat and nearly suffocating him.
Yin Yin.
Faster than words was his action.
His slender fingers abruptly seized the girl’s wrist, a gesture that was truly rude, yet he seemed entirely unaware.
Caught suddenly by Elder Fu, the girl’s body trembled, as if frightened badly by him.
The fingers gripping her wrist twitched slightly. As a mighty cultivator, with just this, he instinctively probed her bone age.
Fu Songjin’s breathing tightened again, his call lodged repeatedly in his throat.
It must hurt a lot, hurting enough to bring tears to his eyes.
No, no, the bone age doesn’t match…
He had thought she had come back alive.
But the excessively youthful bone age under his palm sliced his heart and soul apart—
His little disciple was truly dead.
Identical, but not her.
Of course, the Life Soul Lamp had extinguished long ago, and she had died long ago.
Yet he had clung to hopeful fantasies for years, even hoping she had found some method to sever her connection to the Life Soul Lamp.
How could there be a spell in this world to reverse aging? The only explanation was…
Reincarnation.
Amid the churning emotions, with his experience as a mighty cultivator, he dazedly arrived at an answer.
Yet a sliver of hope still overflowed from the cracks in his heart—
His gaze shifted downward, fixing tightly on her lips. He bent at the waist, almost bowing close to guard them.
Master.
It’s Master.
He seemed trapped in some illness, swaying unsteadily in a desperate struggle for life, begging her to speak, to utter the miraculous elixir that could save him.
He only hoped she would call him Master, that she still recognized him…
That he had made a mistake.
The lifetime of knowledge and experience he had gained was overturned by his own hand. He gripped the girl’s wrist, yet it was as if he were diagnosing his own incurable condition.
He leaned in repeatedly. The girl before him seemed afraid, turning her face slightly away while cautiously lifting her eyes to look at him.
Her flowing gaze carried shimmering tears, the corners of her eyes reddened, her long lashes trembling again and again in his vision.
She lightly pursed her lips once more and finally spoke—
“Th-this… Elder…”
Her frightened voice trembled too, sounding frail and weak. The moment her lips and teeth met, it effortlessly crushed his centuries of hope.
What emerged from her mouth was no miraculous elixir, but a poison potent enough to claim his life—
She didn’t know him, let alone call him Master.
The girl’s pupils shifted slightly as she stared at this “elder.”
She saw his expression suddenly grow dazed, the strength gripping her wrist abruptly loosening.
But only for an instant before it tightened again. She heard this “elder” ask.
“You… you, what is your sect…” He licked his lips. Though his demeanor was normally as warm and refined as jade, it now showed an inexplicable urgency. Then he changed his words. “No, do you have a master?”
The girl panicked at once, not knowing how to respond. She blurted out, “I-I didn’t mean to. He struck me first and tried to rob my things…”
Tears glistened at the corners of her eyes, an expression utterly familiar to Fu Songjin.
Even comforting.
Yes, just like that—his poor little disciple.
His little disciple had come back.
Unable to stop himself, he took a step forward, nearly wanting to embrace her, pull her into his arms, and soothe her softly.
As a high-level cultivator like him, discerning his emotions took only an instant—
Even if reincarnated, it didn’t matter.
As long as he took her as his disciple again, all would be well.
As long as he took her as his disciple again, everything could return to how it was. He would teach her how to tend those herbs, how to refine pills. That small medicine field, the quiet chamber where he once lectured—they were all preserved perfectly…
As long as he took her as his disciple again, everything could be like before.
Master and disciple in harmony.
The tears welling in his eyes silently receded, sinking into the depths. His ink-black pupils, dark as polished lacquer, reflected the girl’s face.
His eyes unmoving, his lips first curved into an infinitely gentle arc. “It’s alright, good child. Take your time…”
Fu Songjin gazed at her steadily, revealing a faint smile, his tone soft. “Don’t be afraid. I’m not blaming you. I believe you…”
He raised his hand, seemingly to wipe her tears, but the girl turned her face away, dodging.
In that sidelong glance, she seemed to notice something, her expression changing slightly. Abruptly, she shook off his hand.
Her movement was too sudden. Fu Songjin, immersed in the joy of loss and recovery, paid no heed to his surroundings. Another Dao Sect elder had slowly landed.
He only knew his little disciple had shaken off his hand and strode past him.
“Master—”
She called out.
His palm suddenly emptied, his mind shattering in an instant. Fu Songjin’s pupils flickered as he turned to look.
The girl threw herself into another’s embrace.
“Master, someone bullied me.”
She said to that man.
She even tightly hugged his waist, burying her face in the man’s chest.
Her trailing tone was muffled, carrying a hint of aggrieved sobbing that spilled into his arms.
She seemed utterly unconcerned, leaving the Pill Cauldron Sect elder to be coldly ignored behind her. She also appeared completely blind to the fact that Elder Fu’s face had abruptly drained of color.
No, no, no…
Wrong, wrong. I am…
Master is here.
This Pill Cauldron Sect elder, usually so poised and gentle, now stood soul-lost, his face pale as he moved his lips.
Yin Yin, Master is here.
He opened his mouth in some panic, yet couldn’t voice it for a long time.
A reincarnated soul naturally wouldn’t recognize him.
Only he knew he had once been her master.
Those past events had settled only in his soul, growing heavier day by day, weighing him down until he couldn’t speak or walk, merely staggering a step.
Fu Songjin’s pupils shifted as he looked toward the newcomer.
The man wore a jade crown binding his hair, dressed in blue robes brimming with watery clarity and warmth, his demeanor refined as jade.
As her master, this blue-robed elder, who had arrived a step late, didn’t reject his disciple’s intimacy and reliance. After a momentary hesitation, he embraced her even more tenderly.
Yao Guanheng’s movements paused briefly before he reached out, gently patting her back and soothing her softly. “It’s alright now. Master is here.”
He too had a pair of ink-black eyes. One hand gently stroked the girl’s back while the other silently lifted, his gaze sweeping over everyone present.
Yao Guanheng’s eyes fixed ahead, on the elder in apricot-colored magic robes.
He often led disciples on outings and had heard of the major figures from various sects. With a quick comparison, he recognized Fu Songjin’s identity.
However, this Elder Fu’s expression…
Seemed rather odd.
Lost and desolate, as if he had received terrible news.
Yao Guanheng lowered his gaze, his fingers lightly lifting to slide along his little disciple’s disheveled long hair, carefully smoothing it. “What happened here?”
The girl’s arms still encircled his waist. Yao Guanheng felt it clearly—her fingers tightened, clutching the fabric at his lower back. She pointed with her other hand and looked up to complain to him.
“He tried to rob me and broke my hairpin…”
The girl emphasized again, sounding deeply aggrieved. “Master, he broke the hairpin you gave me.”
Was the little young lord of Jade Ecstasy Palace the type to seek backing from elders?
Whether it was Elder Fu or the little disciple in his arms, Yao Guanheng vaguely sensed some discord.
Besides her complaint, there must be… other things here he didn’t know about.
But…
Since she had chosen to rely on him proactively, he wouldn’t refuse.
After her complaint, the little disciple buried her face back into her master’s chest, her hand continuing to clutch his lower back, unwilling to leave.
Her sudden closeness left Yao Guanheng somewhat helpless. Amid his faint smile shone clear indulgence and doting affection, obvious to any onlooker.
He let his disciple cling tightly to him, his own hand resting lightly on her back.
Yao Guanheng didn’t glance at the Pill Cauldron Sect disciple to the side, who had realized something was wrong and now trembled in fear. Instead, he looked directly at the elder here. “Forgive the embarrassment. My disciple is still young and can’t bear to be apart from others.”
“To think that her first time venturing far from the sect for training would run into such an incident.” A trace of worry crossed his face. “I wonder if your sect’s disciple needs to offer a defense?”
He took her words as truth by default, showing unmasked, wholehearted bias toward her.
When spoken by him, it seemed only natural and right for a master to favor his disciple.
Fu Songjin hadn’t even noticed himself, but the sight of this master-disciple pair embracing was reflected in his eyes. The hand at his side clenched the hanging sleeve tightly.
His gaze fell on Yao Guanheng’s hand—the man’s broad palm rested lightly on the girl’s shoulder, half-embracing her.
Between master and disciple…
How could they be so intimate?
As a master, did he not know what should and shouldn’t be done?
He had even given that child a hairpin—what kind of gift was that for a disciple?
Fu Songjin’s lips moved, but no words came out—
On what grounds could he criticize this master-disciple pair?
Or rather, what identity did he have to do so now?
What was he to her now?
That child had already taken another as her master; she was someone else’s disciple.
Now, he was merely a stranger elder.
Thoughts whirling, Fu Songjin’s face grew even paler, as if all color had been drained from it.
Yet his staring gaze held a chilling coldness, fixed rigidly on the man’s hand on the girl’s shoulder.
Yao Guanheng’s eyes flickered slightly.
Rumors painted this Elder Fu as kind and gentle, but upon meeting him, he inexplicably felt a chill, even a faint hostility.
He noticed the other’s stare, his fingertips twitching.
Far from withdrawing from his little disciple’s shoulder, he slid his hand upward, gently pressing the back of her head to bury her deeper into his chest, shielding her with his body.
Their mutual scrutiny and probing lasted only an instant. Seeing him hold the girl without letting go, Fu Songjin tugged faintly at his lips. “I suppose it truly is as… this little friend said. It’s our sect’s failing in discipline. I hope… fellow Daoist can forgive us.”
In a few words, he admitted the Pill Cauldron Sect disciple’s fault. The male cultivator felt indignant and wanted to argue, but he was struck by a silencing talisman from his own elder.
Fu Songjin didn’t turn to look at him, merely sensing his movement and casually drawing a stroke with his brush—enough to make the disciple break out in cold sweat instantly.
No other reason: Elder Fu was mild-mannered, but also a Mahayana cultivator, not someone he could interrupt.
Realizing his peril, the male cultivator lost all smugness, his face ashen.
Yao Guanheng glanced at him, then said politely, “I’ve long heard that Elder Fu cherishes his disciples. I didn’t expect you to discern right from wrong so clearly.”
With the matter seemingly resolved, the girl in his arms stirred, trying to peek sideways, but her master’s hand blocked her, not letting her look.
Fu Songjin gazed at the girl’s obscured profile and moved his lips. “…Naturally.”
Between master and disciple, how could they be so intimate?
Such thoughts filled his mind, yet he revealed a gentle smile. “I find fellow Daoist somewhat familiar. Might I ask which sect you hail from?”
Yao Guanheng returned the smile. “Not comparable to your esteemed sect. It’s Myriad Beasts Sect. I brought my disciple to see the Pill Appreciation Conference and, along the way, to pick up this little disciple of mine.”
His origins couldn’t be hidden, so he stated them plainly.
“Is that so.” Fu Songjin’s smile flickered lightly. He had no desire to hear the word “disciple” coming from that man’s mouth.
He rarely disliked anyone, but at this moment, he genuinely harbored a subtle hatred.
He continued, “That disguise hairpin is truly ingenious. Since it was damaged by a disciple of our sect, I, as an elder, failed in my guidance. Naturally, I must take responsibility for my disciple. Why not let me repair it?”
“You’re too serious, Elder Fu. It’s just an ordinary magic artifact—no need to trouble yourself,” Yao Guanheng politely refused.
The girl in his arms stirred, however, and looked up at her Shizun.
Yao Guanheng lowered his gaze, unsure what she wanted to say.
From earlier until now, Li Yin had deliberately thrown herself into his arms and acted intimately with him, all to provoke her former capture target.
But when that capture target casually mentioned the hairpin, she suddenly found it strange and asked directly.
“Shizun, how did you know I was here?”
He naturally knew she was in the Pill Cauldron Sect, but her exact location?
How had her Shizun come straight to her the moment she ran into trouble?
Before Yao Guanheng could answer his little disciple’s question, Elder Fu across from them spoke in a gentle tone.
“This little friend doesn’t know? That disguise magic artifact actually has two spiritual imprints on it—one for disguise, and one for tracking,” Fu Songjin softly revealed part of the truth.
Her Shizun really shouldn’t have given his disciple a hairpin as a gift.
He simply wanted his little disciple to realize that her current Shizun had impure intentions and ulterior motives toward her.
Though he was clearly trying to stir things up, Fu Songjin’s hand at his side clenched tight once more.
He was mild-mannered and kind, it was true. He had never meddled in others’ relationships before—and now, he even felt his own appearance was unsightly.
Yao Guanheng raised his eyes, seemingly oblivious to the hostility, and smiled as he explained, “My disciple is still young and this is her first time traveling outside. As her Shizun, I naturally have to be extra careful.”
His explanation made perfect sense. At the very least, the girl in his arms was completely convinced by it.
Fu Songjin heard her clear voice ring out. “I see. Shizun, I’m sorry for worrying you.”
The master and disciple appeared perfectly harmonious and intimate. The girl even burrowed deeper into her Shizun’s arms and rubbed against his chest. The man simply gazed at her tenderly, making no move to stop her.
Fu Songjin stared fixedly.
No—no, that man clearly had ulterior motives.
He was a Shizun too. How could he not know what that person was thinking!
The thought startled him.
Elder Fu suddenly lost his composure, his expression turning somewhat panicked.
No—that wasn’t it. What he meant was, as a Shizun himself, he naturally knew what a normal Shizun should do…
While he was lost in thought, Yao Guanheng thanked him warmly from a short distance away, then left while holding the girl.
Only then did Fu Songjin snap out of his daze. He took a step forward but could find no reason to stop them or follow.
He clutched at his heart. Vague heart sounds began to overflow once more—
【This is simple. Your cultivation is one realm higher than that man from earlier. Why not scheme to kill him? Then, the pitiful and helpless little disciple, with no one to rely on, can return to your side…】
It was as if bewitching whispers filled his ears. His breathing quickened for an instant before he immediately closed his eyes and suppressed those noisy heart sounds.
Once his mind was clear of distractions, Fu Songjin glanced sideways at the male cultivator, remembering there was one more person present.
“You.” Exhaustion showed on his face, and he had no intention of saying more. “Go to Pill Fire Prison and reflect for ten years.”
The male cultivator’s face was full of despair. Elder Fu had never issued a punishment order before, yet now he swiftly produced a jade token.
“Discipline Hall disciples, heed the order. Come at once to take him into custody.”
“Without my command, do not release him.”
He seemed utterly exhausted, issuing the orders word by word before turning and leaving.
Those heart sounds still lingered in his mind. Though he refused to listen or believe them, he had drawn a bit of inspiration from them nonetheless.
His cultivation was one realm higher than her current Shizun’s. And the Pill Cauldron Sect’s resources undoubtedly far surpassed those of the Myriad Beasts Sect…
There were no shortage of people who wished to take him as their master.
Realizing the sordid nature of his thoughts, Fu Songjin clenched his lapels once more.
He simply felt she deserved a better Shizun, that was all.
Besides, something like holding and comforting her…
He could do that too.