Mo Zhu stood at the courtyard gate holding a bowl of medicinal brew.
The young man’s expression was blank, as if he were carrying a plate of gunpowder instead.
The jade token at his waist chimed again with a voice: "Mo Zhu, today’s medicine for your master is entrusted to you. Make sure she drinks it all. I’m tied up with urgent matters and can’t leave."
It was Yan Shanqing’s voice.
Mo Zhu knew what he was busy with.
Yan Shanqing, Xiang Wuxue, and Yu Zhiling—even the Three Sects and Four Families—had all learned that a high-level demonic cultivator was on the loose in the Central Continent. Worse, this demonic cultivator might very well be the same person who had slain Immortal Fuchun in the past and was now attempting to breach the Four Slaughter Realm to destroy the Four Slaughter Stele.
The Central Continent was currently deliberating countermeasures.
Thus, everyone had been busy these days—except Yu Zhiling.
Three days ago, Yu Zhiling had coughed up black blood in a fit of rage, then collapsed into a day-long slumber, terrifying Xiang Wuxue and Yan Shanqing. Since then, her medicine had been administered three times daily, with either Xiang Wuxue supervising her or Yan Shanqing keeping her company as she drank.
The reason was simple: since childhood, this master of theirs had detested medicine and had to be watched until she finished every last drop.
With Yan Shanqing’s urging, Mo Zhu had no choice but to comply. He had no intention of provoking a confrontation—it would only invite unnecessary trouble.
Pushing open the courtyard gate, Mo Zhu spotted a figure curled up on the bamboo bed in the yard.
The bed had been crafted by Xiang Wuxue—spacious enough to roll around on—and Yu Zhiling often lounged there, draped in a blanket, legs crossed, cracking melon seeds between her teeth.
When Mo Zhu entered, she had just woken from a nap, stretching with a yawn.
Their eyes met.
Yu Zhiling quietly lowered her raised leg, cleared her throat, and sat upright, draping the thin blanket over her knees.
In the past three days, she had only seen this little brat two or three times. After the scene they’d made that day, she couldn’t help but feel uneasy around him now.
Mo Zhu, however, appeared perfectly composed, his demeanor calm as if he had completely forgotten their earlier confrontation.
He stepped forward, placed the medicine on the table, and said coolly, "The Sect Leader and Third Martial Uncle are occupied, so they sent me to ensure you drink your medicine."
Yu Zhiling nodded stiffly. "Alright."
She picked up the bowl, pinched her nose, and downed the brew in one go—unusually obedient today.
Mo Zhu collected the empty bowl and handed her a pouch of candied fruit. "Third Martial Uncle asked me to prepare these. Please have some, Master."
Yu Zhiling accepted it, popping one sweet after another into her mouth, unfazed by the sugary assault on her teeth.
With his task complete, Mo Zhu turned to leave. Just as he was about to step out of the courtyard, Yu Zhiling—after much hesitation—finally made up her mind and called out to him.
"Mo Zhu."
He stopped.
Turning back, he responded respectfully, "What do you need, Master?"
Yu Zhiling’s mind was filled with the relentless mechanical voice of her system:
[Host, proceed with the mission. Do not slack off.]
For three days, she hadn’t pushed Mo Zhu to cultivate, and the Virtue System had already reminded her multiple times. She suspected it was programmed to monitor mission progress, nagging whenever it detected prolonged inactivity.
Clearing her throat, Yu Zhiling straightened her posture with effort. "Have you been neglecting your training lately?"
Mo Zhu: "..."
His brow furrowed.
Yu Zhiling knew he was probably questioning her sanity, but she had no time for such concerns. Her Virtue Points were dwindling, and every breath felt like a waste of her life force.
"I know you might think I’m acting strange. About the past..."
At the mention of the past, Mo Zhu’s eyes darkened.
Yu Zhiling steeled herself. "What happened before… was my fault. I apologize. I don’t expect your forgiveness, but you’re my disciple, and I hope you—"
Mo Zhu stared at her unblinkingly, his gaze piercing, leaving her no room to hide.
Clutching the blanket tightly, Yu Zhiling mustered her courage and blurted out the rehearsed lines: "I hope you grow stronger quickly and become the next Immortal Venerable of the Immortal Alliance. The position is vacant, and it belongs to you."
Her words, framed as concern, inexplicably irritated Mo Zhu.
"Master should know—I am a demon."
Yu Zhiling nodded. "I know."
Mo Zhu repeated, slower, heavier, "I am a demon."
It took her a moment to grasp his meaning. She frowned. "So what if you’re a demon? Centuries ago, when the demon race allied with the devils to attack the Central Continent, your grandfather might not even have been born yet. What does that have to do with you? We don’t punish descendants for their ancestors’ crimes, do we?"
Was she truly ignorant, or feigning it?
Mo Zhu cut straight to the point. "I cannot join the Immortal Alliance. No one would accept me."
Yu Zhiling shot to her feet. Standing on the bamboo bed, she was now eye-level with him.
"Who dares refuse my disciple?" Anger flared in her chest. His self-deprecation only fueled her frustration. "If you don’t even respect yourself, how can you expect others to revere you?"
"Mo Zhu, you formed a Golden Core at seventeen. In the past, I—I was blind, and what I did to you was wrong. You can repay me however you wish in the future. But for now—"
She strode from one end of the bed to the other, stopping just three steps away, close enough to see the intricate patterns in his irises.
"—until you’re strong enough to take revenge, you’ll listen to me. If you want to make me pay, then cultivate diligently. Walk the path of immortality and claim your destiny."
The first half of her words carried the domineering tone of the Yu Zhiling he once knew, but the latter half was utterly unlike her.
The Yu Zhiling of the past would never have encouraged his cultivation, much less offered him a chance at retribution.
Mo Zhu studied her coldly, recalling what Yan Shanqing had told him yesterday.
Yu Zhiling had lost her memory, forgotten much of the past. That was why Yan Shanqing had asked him to look after her.
Had she forgotten what she’d done to him? Was that why she was acting so strangely?
How dare she forget.
When he remained silent, his expression unreadable, Yu Zhiling took it as tacit agreement. Emboldened, she met his gaze without flinching.
"Our agreement—one sword manual a day. I know you can do it."
Mo Zhu countered, "Why do you believe in me?"
Yu Zhiling nearly blurted out:
Because you’re the protagonist! You have the halo of a main character!
Your halo is this big!
But faced with his dark, clear eyes, she swallowed the words and said instead, "Because I’m your master. A master’s faith in her disciple needs no reason."
Yu Zhiling mentally applauded herself.
Well done. That was a perfectly delivered motivational speech!
Yet Mo Zhu’s face remained an impassive mask, as if he were thinking nothing—or everything.
Her confidence wavered under his scrutiny. "You… could at least say something—"
"Fine."
Mo Zhu’s reply was curt.
Yu Zhiling blinked. "...What?"
He repeated, "Fine."
She had said it herself—that he could do whatever he wanted to her in the future.
Whether it was revenge or something else, she had made a promise today—if he could reach a higher level of cultivation than her...
she would submit to his will.
