Chapter 29: Master and Disciple, One Mind

Ye Yuan did not like women.

To be precise — he disliked all female creatures.

He had slept for so long that most memories were hazy; only the last ten thousand years stayed clear. Cultivation was arduous, divided into the four great realms — Heaven, Earth, Profound, and Yellow — each with ten minor levels.

Mortals were plagued with too many distracting thoughts, making cultivation even harder. During rare wakeful moods across millennia, he had guided plenty of foolish disciples and grand-disciples. Coincidence or curse, they were always male. And without exception — they disappeared.

The Lost Disciples

• Idiot Disciple One – Born a natural spirit body. Breathed and walked cultivation itself.

  One year: opened the heavenly eye.

  Three years: entered Yellow rank.

  Ten years: broke into Profound.

  In little more than a decade: touched Earth rank.

  Went down the mountain to temper himself for three years… wrote that he’d met a woman tormented by an evil ghost and would stay to protect her.

  Then — never came back.

• Even Dumber Disciple Two – Meridians naturally clear, spirit channels unusually good at drawing qi.

  Three years: heavenly eye.

  Ten: Yellow.

  Twenty: Earth.

  Cultivated thirty years.

  Went down to subdue a monster plaguing a city; sent word that things were dire but he had saved a gravely wounded orphan girl and would delay.

  Then — never came back.

• Massive Fool Disciple Three – Exceptional sensitivity to qi.

  Five years: heavenly eye.

  Fifteen: Yellow.

  Forty: barely Earth.

  Chased a fox demon… after a female fox.

  Then — gone.

• Trash Disciple Four – Lucky but talentless; fifty years just to Yellow. Picked up random junk artifacts.

  One day found a fainted woman outside the temple and offered to return her home.

  Then — gone.

• Utter Waste Disciple Five – Completely useless; fifty years to Yellow. Grew bored and said he wanted to see the world.

  Then — gone.

…And so on.

At first, when disciples failed to return, Ye Yuan didn’t care. But when the disappearances piled up, he asked questions. The answers were always the same:

They had fallen to women.

Women?

What kind of strange, mind-stealing monsters were these?

Annoyance and Exile

Puzzled yet concerned, Ye Yuan used a searching spell and appeared before some wayward pupils to drag them back. But the disciples refused to return.

Instead, the women followed him home.

Some claimed they owed Clear Sun Temple a life debt and wished to “repay with their bodies.”

Some admired the immortal sect and begged to join.

Some wanted to serve as slaves or maids.

No matter his bans, they crept into his tower — the roof, the altar, even his bed.

Ye Yuan was infuriated.

Worse, the disciples who’d sworn never to come back showed up — weeping and whining.

• Disciple One: “Master, Little Cui’s just impulsive! She didn’t mean to offer herself to you. Please persuade her!”
• Disciple Two: “Grandmaster, Ah Hong wants to leave me! We’ve been married for years, have children! Help!”
• Disciple Three: “Ancestor! Return my bride — we were to marry next month. Don’t steal her!”
• Disciple Four: “Patriarch, Wanwan’s a fox demon, not human! You’re an immortal, she and I at least have a chance!”
• Disciple Five: …(just sobbing).

They cried every day and every night.

Ye Yuan’s patience snapped. He finally realized: women had some mind-corrupting charm that turned his already-dim pupils into complete idiots.

In one fit of wrath, he expelled both the foolish disciples and the women. Peace at last.

His fury scared the rest of the sect straight.

No one dared loiter near his tower.

No one dared mention wives or lovers.

Over time a silent pact formed: No women in the tower.

Better yet, don’t even recruit female disciples. Even while Ye Yuan slept, the custom stuck — a quiet rule of Clear Sun.

Until… Bai “Rotten Log” brought Yun Jiao.

A Different Kind of Disciple

Ye Yuan — reluctantly awake — found himself surprisingly satisfied.

After so many dimwits, here came a pupil who:

• Was born with natural sight of spirits,
• Was neither stupid nor troublesome,
• Had skill (more precious than talent).

Even without a spiritual meridian, she was valuable.

He decided: worth nurturing.

Then came the shock — Yun Jiao was a woman.

Old reflex screamed Danger! Trap! Sirens!

He nearly retreated back into his tower to observe from afar.

But soon he noticed: she was different.

She didn’t swoon at him. Didn’t gossip about stars or life or romance.

She came only with precise questions on cultivation.

Calm. Cool. Rational — almost unnervingly so.

Curious, he wanted to confirm her sex.

The Face-Poking Incident

“Patriarch…” Yun Jiao, unruffled visitor from another world, endured his morning-long pokes and finally warned, “Poke my face again and I’ll really hit you.”

Even clay idols have tempers!

Ye Yuan hastily withdrew his hand… and just asked bluntly:

“You… really are a woman?”

She glanced down at her modest but definite B-cup, frowned slightly.

“Of course.”

Was her gender that hard to tell?

Ye Yuan’s eyes widened further — indeed, she was unlike any woman he’d seen.

Looks female, yet mind and talent sharper than most men.

Fine. He’d just treat her like a male disciple. Problem solved. Peace restored.

Yun Jiao meanwhile studied the odd master clinically: Mild gender-identity issues — classic in men who like men. He mistook me for male; now he’s awkward knowing I’m female. No problem — I’ll just treat him like a girlfriend.

And so, by pure misunderstanding, they reached a strange mutual agreement:

• Ye Yuan:This is a male disciple.
• Yun Jiao:This is a sister-friend.

(End of this chapter)