Chapter 84: My Stupid Disciple Just Wanted to Hold Hands a Little Longer

“Meng Yingxing!”

Ye Bo’s voice echoed over Daiheng Peak, carrying six parts fury, three parts mortification, and one part utter panic.

“Don’t look!”

Ye Bo flailed his arms, desperately trying to cover his exposed body while shouting at everyone around him.

Unfortunately, his clothes—now shredded into nothing but rags—offered no real cover.
No matter how he twisted, another flash of skin inevitably appeared.

The louder the crowd laughed, the harder they laughed.

The laughter only fueled Ye Bo’s rage.
His scalp prickled, his vision darkened, and heat rushed to his head.

He lowered his gaze, wishing the ground would swallow him whole.

Wrapping his arms around his chest, he prepared to flee.

“Ye Bo.”

Meng Yingxing, annoyingly, stood right in his path and called out to stop him.

“Meng Yingxing, what the hell do you want?!”

Ye Bo snapped his head up, glaring at him with eyes blazing with murderous fury.

If looks could kill, Meng Yingxing would have died several hundred times already.

Meng Yingxing, facing that glare, looked utterly innocent.

He pointed behind Ye Bo.
“Your sword—you forgetting it?”

Ye Bo whipped around.
There lay his sword, dropped in panic, sitting quietly on the ground.
He’d nearly run off without it.

In stark contrast, the Ting Tian Sword stood calmly thrust into the earth nearby.

Ye Bo’s face burned even hotter.
After one last vicious glare at Meng Yingxing, he snatched up his sword and bolted down the mountain path in disgrace.

Meng Yingxing walked over, pulled the Ting Tian Sword free, and gently wiped the faint dust from the section that had been buried.

“Master… wasn’t that a bit much?”

The Ting Tian Sword trembled in his hand.
“What are you doing with your hand? Stop touching weird places!”

Not too much at all!
Narrow-minded jerks deserve exactly this kind of punishment!
Let’s see if he dares look down on my disciple again!

She had planned the whole thing—pretending to lose control and shredding his clothes with a burst of sword qi, humiliating him in front of everyone.

Of course, Meng Yingxing had to take the blame for it.

He was ready.

Gripping the Ting Tian Sword behind his back, Meng Yingxing bowed deeply to the crowd.

“My apologies, everyone.
That was my fault—I lost control of my sword and caused this accident.
I feel terrible for wasting Senior Brother Ye’s kind instruction earlier.
I’ll find a chance to apologize to him properly later.”

A chance, of course, meaning… there would be no chance at all!

Xiu Qingcheng nodded approvingly at her own brilliant scheme.

See? Not too much at all.

Xiu Qingcheng: “Yep, I think so too!”

That was the most excessive part!

“He can’t have gone far. We can still catch him if we hurry.”

Meng Yingxing quickened his pace.

Lin Yun Chuan sheathed his sword and spoke to Meng Yingxing.

“Since you know you were wrong and no real harm was done, let it go.
Just be more careful when flying on your sword in the future.”

Lin Yun Chuan kept a straight, handsome face and proceeded to repeat—word for word—all the safety reminders he’d given earlier.

Xiu Qingcheng had only known Lin Yun Chuan for two days and had already heard his sword-flying lecture three separate times.

Her ears were growing calluses.
She sighed.

“Still such a dutiful loyal dog, huh.”

Soon the scene returned to normal, and everyone resumed practicing sword flight.

Most people present knew exactly what had happened.

Ever since Meng Yingxing made his name in the Divine Armory Trial, those who used to mock him had gone suspiciously quiet.

Only Ye Bo still looked down on him for some reason.

Their little rivalry had become entertainment for the crowd.

Meng Yingxing watched everyone else’s sword control grow smoother by the minute.
Ye Bo, in particular, wielded his rarely-used chain weapon like a dancing silver serpent.

Was his own spiritual control really that bad?

“Sigh. You’re just missing the basics. Practice more and you’ll get it.”

“As I always say, disciple—being bad isn’t the problem. Being bad just means practice more!”

Right now, Xiu Qingcheng was pretending to be flown by Meng Yingxing, circling around him.
For once, she could move openly in front of everyone.

Seeing how dejected he looked, she kept cheering him on.

Her disciple sometimes lacked confidence—she, as his master, had to support him all the way.

And Meng Yingxing really did work hard.

Even at night, he was still stubbornly wrestling with sword flight.

The Ting Tian Sword wobbled endlessly under his control.

Xiu Qingcheng, in human form, leaned against the wall hugging her sword-ghost kitty, watching her disciple suffer.

Because he was so frustrated with sword flight, even dinner tasted worse tonight.

What to do? Urgent, waiting online.

Xiu Qingcheng hadn’t been satisfied with dinner.
She’d wanted snacks afterward, but she’d already demolished the entire stash over the past few days.

Now she could only chew on a random stalk of grass.

She’d found it by the roadside—the stem held sweet juice.

The kitty in her arms was chewing the same kind.

She hadn’t expected Meng Yingxing’s constitution to make not just cultivation slow, but fine spiritual control difficult too.

Too bad she didn’t really understand that stuff—she was just a sword that only knew how to kill people and steal their stuff.

Xiu Qingcheng watched Meng Yingxing grow more and more agitated.

You can’t eat hot tofu if you’re impatient. Rushing was a huge taboo on the path of cultivation.

After thinking for a moment, she set down the sword-ghost kitty, spat out the grass, and walked lightly to stand in front of Meng Yingxing.

No matter how many times Meng Yingxing saw his master, the moment that face—capable of stealing the light from heaven and earth—appeared in his view, ripples still stirred uncontrollably in his heart.

The instant he saw Xiu Qingcheng, the Ting Tian Sword he’d just barely lifted was snatched away by her hand.

“Master!”

Meng Yingxing called out, but his eyes only dared to stare at her smooth, flawless forehead.

“Getting stuck in a dead end can easily lead to cultivation deviation, you know.”

Xiu Qingcheng wagged a slender, onion-white finger at him.

“But Master, if I can’t even fly on my sword, how can I ever become a worthy master of the Ting Tian Sword?”

Before he could finish, that same pale finger pressed against his lips and nose.

“Who says a strong person has to know how to fly on their sword?”

“And you have me—I’m a sword that can move on its own!”

“If you want to ride me, just say the word. I’ll move by myself.”

The words slipped out smoothly, but Xiu Qingcheng suddenly felt they sounded a little… off.

Though logically it made perfect sense.

She cleared her throat, pretending nothing happened.

“Don’t overthink it. When we practice, we need to stay calm and peaceful, right?”

Perhaps some juice from the grass still lingered on her finger.
Meng Yingxing caught a faint, sweet scent from it.

Mixed with her cool, gentle voice, the restlessness in his heart truly began to settle.

Whether it was training before or sword flight now, his master always seemed to sing a song that soothed his soul.

He was starting to crave the scent on his master, to miss her cool, beautiful voice.

So, without thinking, Meng Yingxing licked the finger pressed against his mouth.

“?!”

Xiu Qingcheng shivered and yanked her hand back.

All her earlier tenderness vanished in an instant.

“Insolent disciple! What are you doing?! Licking what?!”

She stared at the spot her traitorous disciple had licked, then frantically wiped her finger on his clothes.

“Are you part dog or something?!”

Meng Yingxing hadn’t meant to—he panicked and hurried to explain.

“It’s just… your finger tasted sweet, and it was so close. I got the sudden urge! I really didn’t mean anything else!”

“Tch… if you’re so good at licking, next time you can lick the flour!”

Xiu Qingcheng pulled out a stalk of the grass she’d been eating and forcefully shoved it into Meng Yingxing’s mouth.

“I would’ve shared if you’d just asked!”

A burst of grassy flavor mixed with sweet juice flooded Meng Yingxing’s mouth.

The juice was sweet, but still not as sweet as the scent he’d tasted on his master’s finger.

“Master, what is this?”

He’d never had it before.

“Sweet rush! Dug it up by the roadside! The stem has sweet water!”

“I order you to immediately stock the house with tasty snacks. I’m out of things to eat!”

“Yes, Master.”

After the little scuffle, Meng Yingxing felt his heart calm quite a bit.

“Still want to practice?”

Xiu Qingcheng asked again.

“Yes.”

His answer was firm.

Xiu Qingcheng hummed in acknowledgment and held out her hand.

“Give me your hand. I’ll guide you.”

Being his master was truly a heavy responsibility.

Meng Yingxing looked down at her hand—slender fingers, skin so fair it seemed to glow even at night.

He swallowed, unsure what she planned to do, but placed his hand in hers anyway.

He didn’t have any special thoughts.
He just… wanted to hold his master’s hand.

Xiu Qingcheng grasped his hand.
Meng Yingxing instinctively held hers back.

She glanced at him again—his gaze was still clear and stupid as ever.

Still the same dumb disciple she knew.

She let out a breath.

“Feel how my spiritual energy flows, then try to copy it.”

Holding hands made it easier for him to sense her spiritual circulation.

With that, Xiu Qingcheng began controlling the Ting Tian Sword with pure spiritual energy.

From extending the energy, wrapping it around the sword, to manipulating it—she demonstrated everything in one smooth flow.

Meng Yingxing felt her spiritual energy and gained a few new insights.

It wasn’t that Lin Yun Chuan taught poorly; Xiu Qingcheng’s method was simply more detailed.

And watching someone’s spiritual flow this closely, hand in hand, was quite an intimate act.

“Did you see clearly? If yes, I’ll let go.”

Xiu Qingcheng asked.

“Still a little unclear.”

Meng Yingxing answered seriously.

“Then one more time.”

“Okay.”

Meng Yingxing tightened his grip on her hand.

It wasn’t really about seeing clearly or not.
He just wanted to hold his master’s hand a little longer.