According to sect rules, in such circumstances, I should have abolished Qian Gu’s cultivation and expelled him from the sect as punishment for his grave disrespect.
But Qian Gu was my only disciple, the child I had raised with my own hands, protecting him all these years. If anyone so much as laid a hand on him, I would have reprimanded them with a cold face. How could I suddenly harden my heart to destroy his cultivation?
I spent the entire night reflecting, ultimately concluding that the fault lay in my own approach to teaching him. But now that the mistake had already been made, forcing a correction would likely be futile. A gentler approach was my only option.
I entered a closed-door retreat, leaving strict orders that Qian Gu was not to disturb me unless it was a matter of life and death.
I avoided him for five years.
When I emerged, the first sight of Qian Gu stirred feelings of longing within me. It was clear he had missed me even more. His usually stern and serious face bore a faint smile that made me uneasy. His gaze was gentle, like a loyal dog awaiting affection. He said, “Master, over these five years, I have carefully tended to the Kong Ling Peak.”
Indeed, he had done an excellent job.
“Master, I’ve diligently cultivated every day without slacking.”
It was evident; his cultivation had improved significantly.
“Master…” He lowered his head, a faint smile on his lips. “I have been waiting, hoping you would emerge from retreat soon.”
I said nothing.
He held no resentment for my sudden retreat, no bitterness for my five years of indifference. He simply did everything silently, waiting for me to praise him—just like when he was a child, eager for a piece of candy after mastering a spell.
He didn’t ask for much. He knew his feelings were forbidden, so he hid them, only showing a tiny glimmer of hope that I might fulfill.
But I knew that if I satisfied these small hopes, larger expectations and desires would inevitably follow.
So, I refrained from praising him.
Qian Gu fell silent as well. I could see that my coldness hurt him, but in the next moment, he resumed his usual demeanor.
In the days that followed, I occasionally caught his gaze lingering on me.
Five years of avoidance had changed nothing.
He was more persistent than I had anticipated.
So, I tried a different approach: I took on a second disciple. Like Qian Gu, he had an exceptional spiritual foundation, a natural talent for cultivation. But by the time I accepted him, he was already eighteen—far past the ideal age to build a solid foundation. Despite Qian Gu’s objections, I bestowed upon my second disciple a hundred years of cultivation to make up for his late start.
As I had with Qian Gu, I performed the ceremonial rites at the peak of the Kong Ling Sect. Thousands of disciples knelt in homage as I presented the new disciple with a celestial sword and bestowed upon him the name Qian Zhi (“To Stop Eternally”). I no longer hoped for my disciples to achieve eternal fame—my only wish was for them to know their limits, understand propriety, and act with restraint.
During Qian Zhi’s initiation ceremony, I didn’t glance at Qian Gu even once.
But I knew he was behind me, radiating a silence that spoke volumes.
Qian Zhi was entirely different from Qian Gu. He was lively, bold, and energetic, disliking solitude and stillness. After Qian Zhi joined the sect, Qian Gu became even more reserved, and their interactions often consisted of Qian Zhi’s incessant chatter.
“Senior Brother, is your face under a spell? I haven’t seen you smile in all these years.”
“Senior Brother, how do you feel when people call you ‘Granduncle’ every time we go down the mountain? Do you feel smug? If I feel smug, will someone beat me up?”
“Senior Brother, if I get beaten up for running my mouth, will you and Master help me?”
Listening to this from inside the room made me laugh. Then I heard Qian Zhi yelp in pain outside. “Senior Brother! Senior Brother! I’ll stop running my mouth! Don’t hit me… Ow!”
Ever since Qian Zhi joined, Qian Gu seemed to relish hitting him—whether for poor cultivation, annoying chatter, or sluggish behavior. Although Qian Gu always found a reason, I suspected it was personal grudge. Sometimes his strikes were so fierce that the tremors shook my door, showing no sign of restraint.
I mused that perhaps I hadn’t disciplined Qian Gu enough when he was a disciple, leading to his missteps. Now that Qian Zhi was getting disciplined, maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing.
I had thought that bringing in a lively and energetic disciple would restore a normal master-disciple dynamic in my lineage, focusing on diligent cultivation.
But I never expected that Qian Zhi would be even more troublesome than his senior brother…
Qian Zhi, impatient for quick progress in his cultivation, loved to perform newly learned spells for the younger disciples at the foot of the mountain. I thought his need for attention was harmless vanity that could motivate him to work harder, so I didn’t stop him.
But I never imagined he would dare to challenge the malevolent spirits imprisoned in the Demon Suppression Pool beneath Kong Ling Mountain.
The pool, a deep black lake, held dangerous spirits captured by our disciples during their missions. These spirits, already seething with rage from their imprisonment, didn’t hesitate to drag Qian Zhi into the water when he foolishly approached them.
This incident, while egged on by the younger disciples, was ultimately driven by Qian Zhi’s arrogance and recklessness. I had failed to temper his pride, allowing it to grow unchecked. In the end, it was my fault.
As his master, it was my responsibility to save him.
But this very act would irrevocably push his senior brother, who had been painstakingly suppressing his emotions to stay on the righteous path, onto a road of no return…
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