Yu Zhiling's fear had now subsided, and as she realized she was about to begin her mission—with the male lead she had chased through countless chapters standing before her—she felt an inexplicable excitement.
Lifting the hem of her skirt, she stepped down from the high platform, kicked aside the stack of sword manuals in front of Mo Zhu, and crouched before him, meeting his gaze with bright, focused eyes.
"Your master has faith in you. Do you have faith in yourself? Answer me loudly!"
Mo Zhu: "……"
His expression remained blank.
Yu Zhiling, brimming with sincerity, pressed on, "What’s wrong? Why aren’t you answering? Do you lack confidence?"
Mo Zhu stayed silent.
Yu Zhiling, suddenly recalling the classic lectures of elders, continued earnestly, "When your master was young, practicing swordsmanship meant trekking through mountain paths—climbing from one peak to another. After training, I still had to help with chores. I worked tirelessly, yet here I am now, having reached the Great Ascension stage. It proves that hard work pays off."
She seemed utterly oblivious to the absurdity of her words. Without the original body’s memories, she had no idea how Zhuo Yu had actually cultivated—nor did she understand what it meant to be a prodigy.
Take the original host, for example—a once-in-ten-thousand-years genius of the Central Continent, born with innate sword bones. A single day of her cultivation was equivalent to years of effort for others.
She never needed to toil; Zhuo Yu relied solely on talent.
But Mo Zhu clearly knew this. He also knew Yu Zhiling was bluffing. His lips pressed into a thin line, and as he met her gaze, an inexplicable surge of hostility rose within him.
Was this her new tactic?
Of course. Yu Zhiling had never intended for him to have an easy time.
The corner of Mo Zhu’s mouth curled slightly, his eyes laced with mockery as he lowered his gaze. "Yes."
His voice was cold, betraying neither reluctance nor willingness.
Yu Zhiling paused, her slow-witted mind finally registering the awkwardness. Given Mo Zhu’s current relationship with Zhuo Yu the Immortal Venerable, he likely assumed this was yet another cruel scheme.
She inwardly gasped, studying the kneeling young man before her. Having spent most of her time in hospitals in her previous world, interacting mostly with doctors and nurses, she was at a loss on how to handle someone so utterly different from her.
"Mo Zhu," she began softly, deciding an explanation was necessary. "Since you’ve returned, there’s no need to leave the mountain again. From now on, your master will personally guide your cultivation."
Mo Zhu responded with the same detached tone, "Yes, Master."
[Ding! Main Quest "Prevent the Male Lead from Leaving the Mountain" completed. Rewards distributed. Current Virtue Points: 30. Host, keep up the good work!]
The system even played celebratory fireworks in the background, though Yu Zhiling suspected it was just a pre-programmed feature. The system’s interactions were robotic—devoid of emotion, purely mechanical.
Yet Yu Zhiling trembled with excitement. Good heavens, this quest was ridiculously easy!
She was over the moon!
Mo Zhu ignored her, bowing slightly. "This disciple is tired and will take his leave to rest."
Yu Zhiling, still basking in her triumph, barely registered his words and nodded absently. "Ah, yes, of course."
As Mo Zhu turned to leave, Yu Zhiling suddenly snapped out of her daze at the sight of his retreating figure. "Mo Zhu, wait!"
He halted.
His clenched fist trembled slightly, hidden from her view. His pupils had already narrowed into dangerous slits.
Was she finally dropping the act?
He braced for her whip, even weighing in his mind whether killing her now would be premature.
Reason told him it would ruin all his plans.
Yet a voice in his mind roared:
—Why not kill her? You’ve endured enough. Even if you do, you can still find another way to obtain what you need!
His murderous intent toward Zhuo Yu surged—and with it, the dormant parasite in his meridians, dormant for three months, erupted in agony.
"Mo Zhu, take these with you." Yu Zhiling gathered the sword manuals into a qiankun pouch, stuffing in a few bottles of high-grade healing pills she’d scavenged from Zhuo Yu’s quarters. As she moved closer to hand them to him, she noticed his strange demeanor. "What’s wrong?"
When he didn’t answer, she cautiously stepped forward.
A searing pain, like a blade carving into flesh, shot through his chest and into his consciousness. Mo Zhu groaned, clutching his head as veins bulged on his forehead.
Old wounds flared as the three-month cycle reached its peak. The parasite burrowed anew, and his body convulsed. A torrent of black blood spilled from his lips as his knees crashed onto the stone floor with a sickening crack.
Yu Zhiling winced at the sound, half-convinced his kneecaps had shattered.
She rushed forward. "Mo Zhu!"
Mo Zhu braced himself on one arm, coughing violently, his ponytail swaying with the motion. The blood seeping through his fingers had turned foul and dark.
As Yu Zhiling knelt before him, Mo Zhu suddenly lifted his gaze—his eyes now fully golden slits, swirling with a storm of killing intent.
Facing the male lead’s hatred head-on, Yu Zhiling—an outsider from another world—froze in place, utterly defenseless.
Mo Zhu turned away, vomiting more tainted blood. Days of relentless demon-slaying had left him exhausted, and now, with the parasite’s resurgence, his body finally gave out. He swayed, collapsing forward.
Yu Zhiling instinctively caught him. His chin struck her shoulder, the impact sending a dull ache through her.
She touched his forehead.
Diagnosis: well-done.
Burning up.
Then, the mechanical voice echoed in her mind again.
[The male lead’s parasite has flared. Blackening value increased. World stability regressed. Host’s Virtue Points -10. Current Virtue Points: 20.]
Yu Zhiling: "……"
Yu Zhiling: "???"
Yu Zhiling protested loudly, "I object!"
She completed the quest, yet she wasn’t the one who planted the parasite! None of the credit, all of the blame!
The system replied blandly, [Host, keep up the good work.]
Yu Zhiling was fuming.
Mo Zhu’s forehead rested against her neck, his feverish heat impossible to ignore. In his weakened state, with his eyes closed, the usual coldness faded, leaving behind the gentler appearance of a teenage boy—not the centuries-old aura he usually carried.
If not for the writhing parasite beneath his skin, it might have been a serene portrait of a sleeping beauty.
Yu Zhiling huffed in frustration but carefully lifted him, carrying him toward the side hall of the duty pavilion.
When Mo Zhu awoke, the faint scent of orchids lingered in the air. After past parasite episodes, he’d always wake to a bone-deep scorching pain coursing through his meridians.
But now, his dantian was enveloped by a warm, powerful spiritual energy, soothing his ravaged meridians and easing the parasite’s torment.
This is the Revival Elixir—a top-grade healing pill so rare that even ten thousand high-grade spirit stones in the Central Continent might not suffice to buy it. It can temporarily suppress meridian damage.
Every time his gu poison flared up, the pain would torment him for days. But this time, the poison was subdued by the Revival Elixir, leaving him almost pain-free.
She truly spared no expense in giving him such an immortal-grade pill.
A surge of blood churned in his chest, rushing straight to his throat. Mo Zhu pushed aside the quilt, covering his mouth as he coughed quietly, suppressing the sound as much as possible. Yet dark blood still seeped through his fingers, staining the floor tiles—the remnants of the toxins expelled from his body.
Mo Zhu wiped the blood from his chin with his sleeve. His outer robe had been removed, and the bloodstains on his body had been cleaned away. The bed beneath him was soft and plush, and a small incense burner rested on the bedside table, filling the room with the calming scent of tranquilizing incense.
His gaze drifted upward. Before an intricately carved screen stood a low table, where a figure lay slumped over it—head pillowed on one arm, the other hand resting casually on the surface.
The young man rose from the bed without a trace of expression, his footsteps soundless. Like a serpent skilled in concealment, he approached her—silent, cautious, and brimming with lethal intent, as though stalking prey.
His hand turned slightly, and a sharp ice blade materialized in his palm. By the time he reached Yu Zhiling’s side, his tall frame blocked the light from the room, casting her sleeping form entirely in his shadow.
Mo Zhu’s eyes were devoid of emotion as he looked down at Yu Zhiling, who remained oblivious.
She had always been cautious before, never letting her guard down in the presence of others. Yet now, despite his proximity and undisguised killing intent, she still hadn’t stirred.
He knew he shouldn’t kill her. Doing so now would complicate things, disrupting his plans and making his path forward ten times harder.
But beyond reason, another voice whispered: Killing her wouldn’t matter. The path might be rougher, but not impassable.
Hadn’t he always met her with murder in his heart?
The ice blade drew closer to her neck, its tip already pressing against the pulse point beneath her skin. Still, she didn’t wake.
Then never wake again.
“Mmm…”
A soft murmur escaped her lips.
Yu Zhiling stirred, her sleep uneasy. A creeping cold enveloped her, as though someone had turned down the air conditioning. She distinctly remembered setting it to 26 degrees before sleeping.
So cold… really too cold now.
Frowning, she mumbled, “Xiao Ai, turn up the temperature.”
Silence answered her.
Yu Zhiling: “…”
She was awake now.
It all came back to her.
After Mo Zhu had collapsed, she had helped him to a side chamber. She’d rummaged through her Qiankun bag for what felt like ages before finding a usable pill and feeding it to him. Then, exhausted, she’d kept watch—only to doze off herself.
And now…
“Master.”
The young man’s voice reached her at that moment.
Yu Zhiling opened her eyes, meeting a pair of deep, abyssal pupils that seemed to flicker with something between amusement and indifference.
Like a serpent retreating, he stepped back without a sound, the cold aura of frost receding. Yet Yu Zhiling’s limbs felt numb, as though paralyzed by venom.
The young man was slender yet tall, his high ponytail lending him a spirited air. He dipped his head slightly, his posture deferential.
“Thank you for your care, Master.”
Yu Zhiling swallowed hard, forcing a smile as she pushed herself up from the table. “Ah… no need, no need to thank me. You’re too polite.”
She willed her stiff legs to move, feigning composure as she strode toward the door. “Since you’re awake, follow me back to Listening Spring Cliff. From now on, you won’t stay in the outer disciples’ quarters. You’re my personal disciple.”
Mo Zhu nodded, his voice flat. “Understood.”
He didn’t ask why, as though it didn’t matter.
Yu Zhiling walked ahead, Mo Zhu trailing silently behind.
Outwardly calm, her hands inside her sleeves were clenched into fists.
Having read the original novel, Yu Zhiling knew Mo Zhu all too well—and right now, she was terrified.
Mo Zhu was the type to act without warning.
His silence was the most frightening thing of all.
In the original story, Mo Zhu had been plotting Zhuo Yu’s demise since childhood, his young mind already brimming with schemes. Now, seeing him felt like standing beneath a guillotine, its blade poised to drop at any moment.
She had seen the blade hidden in his hand. While she slept, he had truly intended to kill her.
Even…
Pressed it to her neck.
Had she woken a second later—
But she had woken. Mo Zhu had missed his chance. For now, he was no match for Zhuo Yu, the Immortal Venerable—a peak Great Perfection cultivator, the foremost expert in the Central Continent.
The protagonist was nothing if not patient, never one for reckless action.
She had to maintain her act, never letting him sense her weakness. If he realized she had no idea how to wield her spiritual power, he wouldn’t hesitate to end her.
She could only hope… Mo Zhu hadn’t noticed anything amiss.
The journey back was silent, neither speaking a word.
Upon reaching Listening Spring Cliff, Yu Zhiling was about to excuse herself when the young man, who had been quiet the entire way, spoke first.
“Master, since you’ve promised to guide my cultivation, there’s a sword stance I don’t understand.”
Yu Zhiling froze, her heart leaping into her throat.
This little—surely not…
But the next moment, Mo Zhu shattered her fragile hope.
His voice was soft, almost gentle. “Would you demonstrate it for me, Master? A sparring lesson, perhaps?”
