Chapter 27: One Month

The warmth on Shen Qingxue’s face vanished in a single breath.

Her jaw clenched, her spine stiffening into that familiar, unbending posture of a hunted young wolf. Her dark obsidian eyes turned cold, a bottomless abyss of violent malice swirling within her pupils.

"Master... unless I resolve this blood debt with my own hands, I can never truly cultivate in peace," she said, her voice shaking slightly with repressed fury. "They framed my father. They slaughtered my mother, my sisters, and every soldier under our command. They butchered innocent people like cattle to consolidate their own royal power. Until I make every single one of those traitors see hell, my heart will never be still."

The hatred in her voice was thick enough to curdle blood.

Instead of scolding her, I merely smiled, turning my back to her and looking out over the vast sea of white mist drifting beneath our mountain.

"I won’t stop you," I said softly, my white sleeves rustling in the night breeze. "In the cultivation world, vengeance is not a sin. In fact, a deep, burning grudge is an incredible fire, it will drive you to train when your muscles tear, keep you awake through freezing nights, and push your cultivation speed to heights that pampered prodigies could never dream of." ℯ

I paused, glancing back at her over my shoulder.

"Remember this, little disciple, revenge is a tool. It is a whetstone meant to sharpen your blade, nothing more. The moment you let revenge cross that boundary, the moment you allow hatred to dictate who you are and consume your very existence, that fire will stop burning your enemies and start consuming you from the inside out. Do not swim too deeply in the sea of vengeance, Qingxue. If you do, you will drown long before you ever taste victory."

Shen Qingxue stood completely still, my words echoing in the quiet courtyard.

In her heart, suppressing that burning rage felt almost impossible. She had seen the blood of her family splattered across the stone floors of her home, she had been treated like a rabid beast, spat upon, and beaten across three mortal kingdoms. She was furious at the court, furious at the traitors, and angry at the cold cruelty of the world itself.

Yet, she didn’t cast my advice aside.

She looked at me standing beneath the sunlight, a man who possessed boundless strength, decades of immortal wisdom, and had given her a new life without demanding a single drop of her blood in return. She knew that behind my easygoing demeanor lay a genuine, protective concern for her well-being.

Taking a slow, shuddering breath, she stepped forward and clasped her hands in a deep, respectful salute.

"Although it is difficult... Qingxue will keep Master’s words carved into her soul," she said, her voice softer now, the wild edge in her eyes tempered by genuine respect. "I know Master only speaks out of care for my future. I will not allow my hatred to blind me."

"Good." I nodded, thoroughly satisfied as I reached out to pat her head. "Go put your new dresses in your room, wash up, and get some rest. From tomorrow morning onward, your Master is going to oversee your cultivation personally."

"Yes, Master!"

...

Just like that, an entire month slipped past in the blink of an eye.

During that month, neither of us took a single step off Lonely Cloud Peak. Occasionally, my dear Senior Sister would fly over on her sword to drop off spirit fruits, check on my mountain’s security formations, or sit for an afternoon of tea and casual bickering.

With each visit, her initial sternness softened, and Qingxue steadily grew fond of the sharp-tongued Sect Master, naturally treating her with the quiet deference of a junior sister learning from an elder sister.

Beyond her occasional visits, the peak belonged entirely to Qingxue and me.

Every morning, the courtyard echoed with the sharp rustle of her movements as I drilled her through the eighteen forms of the mountain-cleansing technique. I held nothing back in my teaching, correcting her balance, guiding her breathing, and preparing medicinal tubs to repair her torn muscles every evening.

She was, without exaggeration, the most terrifyingly gifted student a master could ask for. She absorbed every piece of advice like dry earth drinking rainwater, never complaining about bruised shins or aching joints.

Under the combined nourishment of my medicinal baths, the Dragon-Tiger Vitality Pills, and her own monstrous Asura Dao Heart, her progress was downright absurd.

In just thirty days, she tore through the early and middle stages of the first realm, reaching the absolute peak of the Body Strengthening Realm.

Her frame had completely transformed, the sickly, emaciated pallor was entirely gone, replaced by firm, sculpted muscle beneath porcelain, jade-like skin. When she struck out with a bare fist, the air would crack with a dull, concussive pop that could easily cave in an iron shield.

Even I was stunned. What took ordinary sect disciples many months of bitter sweating, she had bulldozed through in four weeks.

Meanwhile, I didn’t neglect my own foundation.

Every night under the ancient banyan tree, I used my newly washed Heaven-Grade Spiritual Roots to systematically grind away at the sealed nodes within my body. One by one, I forcibly breached new apertures, cleared out the dormant meridians, and painstakingly tempered their walls with golden liquid essence until they were as smooth and sturdy as celestial jade.

With years of deep foundational groundwork already in place, paired with my new celestial talent, my progress was breathtaking. Day by day, my Golden Core grew denser, my physical senses sharper, and my combat power spiked into realms that early Core Formation could never have touched.

Outside of brutal training, we spent hours sitting in the pavilion, sharing meals and talking about everything under heaven.

I had endless stories to tell. Having lived a lifetime on Earth, I often wove mundane modern concepts, skyscrapers reaching past the clouds, iron birds carrying hundreds across oceans, and societies where common mortals lived without fearing a cultivator’s whim, into colorful allegories of "distant, bizarre mortal realms." She listened with wide, glittering eyes, completely enchanted by my knowledge.

In turn, she slowly began opening up the darkest corners of her past. She told me about her childhood at the border fortress, the brutal winter campaigns her father led, and the suffocating terror of the night the imperial assassins broke into their courtyard. Whenever the memories made her voice tremble, I would sit quietly, pour her a cup of warm tea, and listen without judgment, offering a steady shoulder she could lean on.

In that single month of quiet seclusion, the unspoken intimacy between us deepened far beyond that of a simple master and disciple. She looked at me with eyes full of absolute, unshakeable devotion, a quiet love that required no loud declarations.

One clear morning, I was sitting cross-legged on the stone dais beneath the colossal spirit-banyan tree, slowly circulating a thread of golden qi through a newly tempered aperture. The gentle rustle of glowing azure leaves filled the air with tranquil serenity.

Soft, hurried footsteps broke my meditation.

I opened my eyes, expecting to see Qingxue bounding over with her usual radiant smile after finishing her morning forms.

Instead, she walked into the courtyard with a deeply troubled, pale expression on her face, her slender fingers anxiously clutching the hem of her white martial robe.