Chapter 43: The Loli Master?

Standing in the frost-covered room, Bai Yue listened to this classic opening line—straight out of a certain online forum’s infamous confession posts—and the corner of her mouth twitched uncontrollably.

What was all this?

The number one sword immortal of the Nine Provinces, the peak master of Piaomiao Peak, sending a voice transmission just to ask “Are you there”?

Bai Yue let out a helpless sigh.

After confirming that the room wouldn’t have any more issues for the time being, she turned around.

She had no choice but to go.

Who knew what her incredibly insecure master might do otherwise?

Maybe by tomorrow morning, the number one sword immortal would have already stormed down the mountain with her sword, flattening everything within a hundred li.

Bai Yue stepped out the door, her fingers tracing a complex rune in midair.

Her form gradually faded like ripples on water.

Just before she vanished completely, her cool voice echoed in the room.

“Watch her well.

Don’t wander.

And don’t tell her about the ring.”

The words had barely faded before she was gone.

***

Piaomiao Peak, Du Xian Sect.

Unlike the howling northern winds outside, the peak master’s bedchamber was perpetually spring-like, scented with faint calming incense.

At this moment, however, an utterly bizarre scene was unfolding on the wide bed made of ten-thousand-year warm jade—a bed that would make countless cultivators green with envy.

A tiny figure was wrapped tightly in a cocoon of heavenly silk blankets, squirming on the bed like a white maggot.

Rolling back and forth.

Back and forth.

“AAAAAHHH!”

A muffled, anguished cry of a little girl escaped from the cocoon.

An Ran—the true combat ceiling of the Du Xian Sect, hailed as the number one sword immortal of the Nine Provinces—was currently in the throes of extreme social embarrassment and internal turmoil.

The moment Bai Yue had unleashed her spiritual energy to suppress Xiao Yueluo’s cold aura, An Ran, all the way on Piaomiao Peak, had instantly sensed her disciple’s presence.

In that instant, An Ran had been overjoyed, almost ready to tear through space itself to appear before her precious disciple and give her a long, heartfelt embrace.

But just as her fingers were about to slice through space, a fatal thought invaded her mind.

When Yue’er returned to Du Xian Sect territory, why didn’t she greet me first?

Why didn’t she come back to the peak to see me?

Does she not want to see me?

Does she think I’m too useless as a master?

Driven by this thought, An Ran’s soaring spirits plummeted into the abyss.

She paced back and forth in her chamber, biting her nails in anxiety for a full half hour, before finally gathering the courage to condense all her longing, concern, and unease into two words, sending them out via spiritual voice transmission.

[Are you there?]

The moment she sent it, she regretted it.

“What do I do, what do I do, what do I do!”

The little An Ran’s feet kicked wildly under the blankets, turning the neatly made bed into a mess.

“Will my disciple think I’m annoying?

What kind of master acts like a lovesick fool asking if their disciple is online?!

She must be busy—I’m interrupting her—she’s definitely going to hate me!”

Because of the extreme emotional fluctuation, tiny, uncontrollable threads of sword aura leaked through the gaps in the blankets, carving deep gashes into the expensive sandalwood screens nearby.

Just as she rolled herself into a silkworm cocoon, preparing to suffocate herself inside—

A voice, clear and cool as jade striking stone, suddenly sounded before the bed.

“Master, what do you need from me?”

The air froze.

The squirming under the blankets stopped instantly.

At the sound of that voice she had longed for day and night, the little loli let out a short, pained whimper.

Like she had been electrocuted, she threw off the blanket and sat up abruptly.

Her silver hair was in disarray, cascading over her shoulders.

Her loose sword robe hung awkwardly on her tiny frame, exposing one round, pale little shoulder.

Her porcelain doll-like face was flushed a deep, almost bloody red, and tears were visibly welling up in her eyes.

“N-Nothing…”

An Ran frantically pulled at her slipping robe, her two index fingers fidgeting nervously in front of her.

Her voice trembled with tension.

“D-Did I interrupt you…”

Her tears began to fall, pattering onto the warm jade bed.

“I’m sorry… sniffle… I shouldn’t have messaged you for no reason… I’m really sorry…”

Bai Yue stood quietly before the bed.

The silver-white mask covered all her expressions.

Suppressed by [Sage Mode], she exuded a cold, unapproachable aura.

But behind the mask, the corner of her eye was twitching violently.

Ah, her master’s condition had definitely worsened again.

The little An Ran on the bed had completely fallen into a spiral of self-loathing.

Sobbing, growing more sorrowful with each breath, her shoulders heaving:

“I… I actually talked to my disciple like that… I’m truly a useless waste… I’m not fit to be your master!

I’m just wasting the Du Xian Sect’s spiritual energy by being alive—I’ll just kill myself to atone!”

As she finished, a sharp clang of a sword sounded.

The number one sword of the Nine Provinces, hanging on the wall, flew out of its sheath.

This peerless, deadly weapon—which had once beheaded countless great demons—was now grasped by a tiny hand and held without hesitation to her own slender neck.

The sword spirit let out a terrified whimper, trying desperately to stop the blade, but it was no match for its owner’s stubbornness.

Seeing that her master, eyes red with grievance, was actually serious about slitting her own throat, Bai Yue finally dropped her perfect icy demeanor.

In a flash, she appeared beside the bed.

Her slender fingers precisely pinched the blade of the Heaven-Severing Sword.

With a slight exertion of force, she forcibly took the peerless weapon and tossed it casually to the floor.

Then, Bai Yue sighed.

Awkwardly but firmly, she pulled the still-sobbing little body into her arms, gently patting her back.

“Master, don’t be silly.

How could I ever be angry at you?”

Bai Yue’s voice remained cool, but her tone softened slightly, carrying a helpless gentleness.

The moment Bai Yue embraced her, An Ran’s body went rigid.

Then, she clung to Bai Yue’s waist, burying her tear-streaked little face into the plain white robe, and asked in a muffled voice: “R-Really?

You’re really not mad at me?”

“Of course.”

Bai Yue stroked her hair as she replied calmly.

“Have I ever lied to you, Master?”

This seemed to work.

The trembling in her arms gradually subsided.

An Ran sniffled, looking up from Bai Yue’s embrace.

Her big, watery eyes still glistened with unshed tears, but her tone suddenly turned deeply reproachful.

“But… you said you’d only be gone for a few days and would be back soon.”

An Ran bit her lower lip, producing a timing disk from somewhere.

She pointed at the markings on it and accused, one word at a time: “You were gone for exactly seventeen days, five hours, three quarters of an hour, and twenty-eight seconds… no, now it’s thirty seconds.”

Bai Yue’s hand froze mid-stroke.

Behind the mask, the corner of her mouth twitched violently again.

“Master, could you please not keep track so precisely?”

Bai Yue’s voice carried a hint of undisguised exasperation.

“Just a rough count of days would be fine—there’s really no need to be down to the second, is there?”

“No!

Every single second felt like an eternity!”

An Ran retorted indignantly, her small hands clutching Bai Yue’s robe.

“Do you have any idea how I’ve survived these past two weeks?

I’ve even counted how many feathers that crane at the back mountain has!”

Faced with this unreasonable accusation, Bai Yue chose to shut up.

Arguing with her master in her current state of extreme emotional turmoil was the most foolish thing she could do.

She could only let An Ran vent, occasionally responding with a few brief, placating words.

After a full incense stick’s worth of soothing and a solemn promise to “report in advance before going out next time,” the bristling sword-immortal loli was finally fully appeased.

Confirming her master’s emotional state had stabilized, Bai Yue took half a step back and released her.

“If Master has nothing else, this disciple will take her leave.”

Bai Yue’s voice resumed its Saintess-specific ethereal aloofness.

“I still have some loose ends to tie up down the mountain.

I’ll come see you again tomorrow.”

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