Chapter 8: Become a disciple?

She didn’t know how much time had passed.

In a darkness and cold that felt eternal, the girl’s consciousness slowly surfaced from chaos.

Her eyelashes trembled.

She tried to open her eyes, but all she met was endless void.

Yet this time, within the void, there were faint traces of something else.

In her ears, a weak ‘crackle’—the sound of burning wood.

At the tip of her nose, the scent of damp earth, dried blood, and… a faint, soothing fragrance of grass and wood that eased her heart.

The agony in her body remained, but the wild power that threatened to tear her meridians apart had been pacified, becoming a calm stream.

Someone was here.

There was another person.

“Who?”

Her voice was dry, laced with honed wariness.

In the darkness, there were no footsteps, no breathing.

Only a calm male voice replied.

“Just a passerby.”

The girl’s nerves tightened even more.

She could sense that the person was sitting nearby, yet his presence was thin, almost fading.

“Was it you… who saved me?”

She asked, a tremor in her tone she herself didn’t notice.

He didn’t answer her question.

Instead, he countered, the words floating lightly but striking deep into the pain at her core.

“Do you want revenge?”

In an instant, the girl’s body trembled violently.

Hatred.

That word alone was the only obsession that kept her crawling out from mountains of corpses and seas of blood, clinging to her last breath.

The blazing fire that destroyed her sect, the anguished forms of her fallen mentors, and… that twisted, grinning face that had gouged out her eyes.

Scene after scene, branded into her mind like a seal.

“Yes!”

She forced out the word through clenched teeth, using all her strength.

She struggled, trying to rise from the ground.

The pain of torn wounds made her stifle a groan, cold sweat instantly soaking the strands of hair on her forehead.

But she didn’t stop.

She used a broken sword to support her shaky body, bending her knees toward the direction of the voice.

It was the posture of a disciple seeking a master.

Though blind, her perception was sharp.

She knew that anyone who could quell her rampaging sword intent in such a manner had strength far beyond her imagination.

This was her only—and final—chance.

Yet the expected hand to lift her never came.

The voice remained calm.

“I don’t take disciples lightly.”

The girl froze, blood draining from her face, disappointment flickering across her features.

“You may call me… ‘Mister Chen’.”

The voice continued.

“If you wish to become my disciple, very well. First, complete the trial I give you.”

“Please, Mister, grant your instruction!”

Her plea was edged with desperate urgency.

“Live. Walk to Qingyang City at the foot of the mountain.”

Ye Chen stood.

The faint light at the cave mouth outlined his solitary figure.

“Remember this simple Breathing Technique. It might help you take a few more steps.”

A stream of information—not words—was imprinted directly into the girl’s mind.

With that, he turned and left the cave, his presence quickly vanishing from the entrance.

Within the cave, only the girl’s determined face remained, along with the flickering firelight that illuminated hope.

—

That night, in the West Wing of the Ye family’s small courtyard, the lights remained unlit and the door unopened.

At dawn, as the sky brightened, Xiao Liuli pushed open the door.

She was used to rising at this hour, used to stepping outside and seeing the figure sitting silently beneath the osmanthus tree.

That figure, like the stone table and stools in the yard, had long become a ‘natural’ part of her daily vision.

But today, the spot was empty.

Beneath the osmanthus tree, nothing.

A thin layer of white frost coated the stone stool.

For the first time, Xiao Liuli’s footsteps paused, barely perceptible, on the threshold.

A strange feeling rose quietly from deep within her heart.

It wasn’t worry, nor curiosity, but a small emptiness that comes when habit is broken.

Ever since losing her cultivation and falling from grace, she had tasted all the warmth and coldness the world could offer.

Once praised by all, now shunned.

Those once hypocritical concerns turned into scornful glances; friends who were close now avoided her, telling her to stay away.

The higher you stand, the harder the fall.

These days in the small courtyard, Ye Chen had ignored her completely.

At first, she thought it natural, even felt relieved.

But now, thinking back, in a world filled with malice and pity, that pure indifference—devoid of any emotion—had become the fairest treatment.

He didn’t wound her with contempt, nor did he measure her worth with calculating eyes.

He simply… didn’t care.

That ‘ordinariness’—ignored by all—became the only form of respect she could feel, free from all impurities.

At that moment, the courtyard door opened softly.

Ye Chen walked in from outside, carrying the chill of morning dew and the scent of wild grass.

He saw Xiao Liuli standing at the door, his expression unchanged, and walked straight toward the osmanthus tree as usual.

And at the moment she saw him, Xiao Liuli didn’t realize that her heart, which had always been suspended, taut, and frozen, quietly returned to its place.

She said nothing, silently turned around, and went back to her room.

Only, when she closed the door, it seemed gentler than usual.