Having been fellow disciples with Sword Sovereign Qingyan for so many years, who among them didn’t know his temperament? He simply wasn’t in the habit of thanking others—least of all for someone else thanking him on his behalf. If not for his formidable cultivation, one might even suspect his body had been taken over.
Daoist Yushan first craned his neck to peer outside, then inwardly pitied Yin Mingjing and the other three. Clearly, in the heart of every master, daughters always outweighed sons. Qingyan had never spoken so gently to his first three disciples. Inwardly, he couldn’t help but raise his estimation of Yu Sang‑sang.
The world always serves dishes according to the guest. A disciple cherished by a celestial‑rank master naturally held a different place in others’ eyes than one treated as invisible.
Daoist Yushan already found Yu Sang‑sang charming and lovely, and her genuine love of food gave them common ground—easy conversation flowed. She liked his cooking not out of flattery for his status, but from true enjoyment. How could that not make him regard her differently?
So, the plump Daoist, smiling broadly, handed Yu Sang‑sang a few more bottles of spirit pills. Then, after rummaging in his pocket, he produced a beautifully carved crimson jade pill furnace. Within it flickered a small dancing flame. He passed it to her with hearty generosity: “Take it and play with it! Your master is skilled in alchemy. If you can learn even a little of his craft, your cultivation will be much smoother in the future.”
The value of an alchemist lay in their ability to transform spirit herbs into spirit pills. The price of herbs compared to the price of pills—what a difference! If one mastered alchemy, gathering common herbs could yield precious pills. Wasn’t that saving money? Cultivation is hard; wherever you can save, you should!
“Many thanks, Elder.” Yu Sang‑sang, seeing the furnace’s crystalline beauty, its translucent red glow, and the profound inscriptions etched upon it, immediately fell in love with it.
“This pill furnace is forged from Fire‑Spirit Jade Marrow. Inside burns a flame nurtured for a hundred years within a volcano—gentle and steady, most suitable for beginners,” Daoist Yushan continued. “Once you’ve mastered the basics of alchemy, your master has finer furnaces and rarer flames. I won’t presume to show off before him.”
Though Qingyan was a sword cultivator, in the days before he attained the Dao, his life had been bitterly hard. Trusting no one but himself, he became proficient in everything—alchemy, forging, formations—never relying on others. But those were old stories, and Yushan had no intention of recounting them to the younger generation.
Seeing Yu Sang‑sang’s genuine delight as she held the exquisite little furnace, unable to put it down, who wouldn’t be fond of such a straightforward child? So he turned to Qingyan, who had inclined his head slightly, and added with a smile: “Shangyong’s birthday banquet is still some time away, so there’s no rush. But Sang‑sang, you should not only bring her to see me, but also to pay respects to others. Let everyone come to know our Sang‑sang, don’t you think?”
Qingyan needed the sect to see how much he cherished Yu Sang‑sang; only then could the girl truly find her footing within the sect. Such words he had never spoken to Qingyan before. Take Yin Mingjing, for example—once apprenticed, his future depended on his own struggle for recognition and favor.
Listening to Daoist Yushan’s partiality toward his little junior sister, urging Qingyan to take her around and forge ties, Yin Mingjing could only smile faintly.
“Master, Master—when you have time, will you teach me alchemy? When you’re free!” Yu Sang‑sang, clutching her new treasure, turned back to show it off to Qingyan, her eyes crinkling with joy. Yet inwardly she sighed with regret. If only the maxed‑out skills from the game had carried over—then wouldn’t she already be invincible!
“Alright.” Qingyan lowered his gaze to the disciple whose eyes sparkled with expectation and gave a quiet snort in his heart. He inclined his head slightly toward Daoist Yushan. He was not fond of socializing, nor of drawing close to others. Taking his disciple around was merely a way to ease his mind, nothing more.
Since he had already agreed with Daoist Yushan, he naturally would not linger long in the dining hall. He simply led his disciples out, then visited fellow sect members in various places, leaving them utterly alarmed. They all thought the heavens must have rained red for them to witness the aloof Qingyan suddenly appearing at their training grounds. Could it be that he found them so detestable that he had come to cut them down? In truth, he was showing off his disciple.
Seeing the obedient, pretty girl with lively brows and eyes—especially with three strands of Qingyan’s sword intent pinned in her hair—everyone understood. If they themselves had such an adorable little disciple, they too would be eager to boast a little. What’s more, the way this girl called “Master” again and again, her gaze brimming with devotion, made her all the more endearing.
Though in their hearts they felt Qingyan was wasting such a thoughtful, well-behaved disciple, outwardly they all offered congratulations. At the same time, they quietly marked this little one who carried his sword aura as high-risk—absolutely not someone to bully. Otherwise, one might easily be sent to meet the Ancestors by that sword aura.
Along the way, Yu Sang‑sang gathered many precious treasures. Though her bracelet already held plenty of spiritual items, the feeling of receiving them was entirely different. Satisfied, she hugged her armful of treasures, and as she and Qingyan headed toward the final Sect Leader’s hall, she sighed, “See how much respect Master commands from everyone.”
Qingyan said nothing, only guided the sword light. Carrying her by the scruff would be unseemly now—this was his disciple, after all, and for her dignity he could not treat her that way.
Yin Mingjing suppressed a laugh as he watched his master, face cold, extend a hand so the little girl could grasp it and steady herself upon the sword light. He regretted that day—he dearly wished he could have seen with his own eyes how his little junior sister had been hauled back to Lingxiao Sect.
Yu Sang‑sang suddenly felt a chill down her back. She turned warily, only to meet Yin Mingjing’s eyes, brimming with curiosity. Her senior brother was such a good person; surely he wasn’t thinking of her embarrassing past. It must be that wretched scoundrel of a father scheming against her again!
In her heart, Yu Sang‑sang added another mark to her scoundrel father’s little black ledger, then finally drew back her gaze. Because she was holding Qingyan’s hand, standing upon the sword light wasn’t too bad.
All along the way to the Sect Leader’s grand hall, the scenery was dazzling—palatial, like fairy courts. The young girl looked around with great interest, secretly comparing them to the ethereal buildings she’d seen in games. She couldn’t help worrying she might get distracted and slip off the sword light, so she stole glances at Qingyan. Tentatively, she leaned a little closer to him.
Qingyan ignored her. Relieved, Yu Sang‑sang happily stretched out her other mischievous little hand and clutched his sleeve. Now holding on with both hands, she felt secure and cheerfully continued to gaze about. She looked very clingy.
Qingyan pressed his lips together. Though he had already taken four disciples, with the first three, he had never concerned himself with anything beyond teaching cultivation. He didn’t know if such indulgence toward a disciple was proper for a master.
Yin Mingjing had once said that a master ought to make some allowances for disciples. Very well, very well. Since she had only just entered the sect. This would not happen again. He slowed his flight—only because he feared his disciple might fall and disgrace him. Certainly not for her to better admire the scenery she loved! Even if he indulged her, a master’s dignity must remain!
Yu Sang‑sang, busy pointing out the sights she found beautiful to her master, had no idea that in such a short time he had already staged a whole play in his heart. She only thought Lingxiao Sect was fabulously wealthy—everywhere was breathtaking.
They saw much along the way until they reached a vast, solemn hall. Gazing at the jade‑paved square, she drew in a sharp breath. That broad square could easily hold several thousand people.
At that moment, many white‑robed disciples were coming and going. Though the place seemed full of movement, all spoke in hushed tones, without the usual clamor of crowds.
When Qingyan alighted outside the hall, everyone looked up and saluted him with utmost respect. He didn’t spare them a glance, only led Yu Sang‑sang inside—where the hall lay quiet, and two figures sat facing them.
One was a handsome young man in brocade, eyes proud, bearing imperious. The other figure was a long‑haired beauty, dignified and radiant, her aura deep and commanding. She sat with graceful poise, though a long brocade ribbon veiled her eyes.
Yu Sang‑sang felt the atmosphere of the hall grow ever more solemn. Knowing this was the most important place in Lingxiao Sect, she stood even more properly at Qingyan’s side. Since she was his disciple, her every word and gesture reflected upon her master. She must not behave carelessly here, lest anyone question his teaching.
Seeing her quiet and well‑mannered, the young man showed a flicker of surprise. He raised his head to meet Qingyan’s gaze, as though restraining something, and after a pause said slowly, “It has been a long time.”
Though he spoke of a long absence, his tone carried a trace of mockery. They were of the same sect, yet Qingyan, an elder of the Lingxiao Sect, had not met him for so long. Was that not laughable?
Qingyan paid no mind to his attitude. He only lowered his head to Yu Sang‑sang and said, “This is Sect Master Fan of our sect.”
So this youth was the Sect Master of the Lingxiao Sect.
Yu Sang‑sang had read of Sect Master Fan in the story—because he and Qingyan were fellow disciples, though their relationship was far from cordial. It was precisely because his ties with the sect leader were poor that, in the story, when Qingyan fell from immortality into demonhood, he simply defected and left, without lingering disputes with the Lingxiao Sect.
The book had only said their relationship was bad, without giving reasons. Yet seeing them now, it seemed the story had not exaggerated. Sect Master Fan indeed did not look very friendly.
“This is the new disciple you’ve taken in, and you don’t even—” But seeing Qingyan ignore him completely, Sect Master Fan drew a deep breath, ready to lash out, when his eyes met the little girl’s obedient gaze. She was secretly clutching the sleeve of the blue‑robed man beside her, looking utterly devoted, her heart full of her master. Such a picture of deep affection between master and disciple.
Sect Master Fan’s handsome face twitched slightly. Though he had no proof, he felt certain this little girl was putting on a show just for him! He drew another deep breath, silently reminding himself that she was a disciple of his own sect, and by all appearances a budding prodigy whose legs must not be broken.
Sect Master Fan endured! Disciples are debts! He darkened his face and clapped his hands. At once, a deferential disciple stepped forward in that tense, undercurrent-laden atmosphere, holding a silver tray with both hands. On the tray lay several extremely precious magical artifacts.
“Take them.” He—he was the Sect Master, after all. Magnanimous, unwilling to stoop to petty squabbles with mere master and disciple!