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Master’s Heavy Heart — Chapter 4. Part 1


I wasn’t sure exactly how Yue Lao Hong managed to pull Qian Gu into the demonic path, but I could imagine the general outline. She likely used words about the cold-heartedness of the immortal sects and my own lack of compassion to plant resentment in Qian Gu’s heart, leading him astray.

Qian Gu was extraordinarily gifted. He had already attained an immortal body in his early years, and after falling into the demonic path, his cultivation advanced at an astonishing pace.

The juniors of the Kong Ling Sect worried that Qian Gu might seek revenge, perhaps rallying forces from the demonic and unorthodox paths to attack the sect. Qian Gu knew all of Kong Ling’s secrets and was intimately familiar with our techniques. If he were to break the sect’s seals and release the source of malevolent energy, it could spell disaster.

Compared to the juniors’ concerns, I still had faith in Qian Gu’s character. Even knowing he had fallen into the demonic path, I trusted him.

Waving a hand dismissively, I said, “There’s no point in wild speculation while nothing has happened yet. If he ever dares to challenge Kong Ling, I will personally cut him down.”

With that, I returned to the summit of Kong Ling.

But after a few days in the hall I had called home for centuries, I found it unbearable. The courtyard was eerily quiet—no Qian Zhi’s incessant chatter, no Qian Gu occasionally pausing by the door to glance at me. It felt as though the mountaintop had fallen into a dead silence.

Unable to stay, I went to the Ling Xu Cave to confront Qian Zhi. “Do you admit your fault? If you do, I’ll let you out. If not, I’ll leave you here and wander the world myself.”

He stubbornly refused to look at me, sulking like a child.

So I left and wandered the mortal world.

For five or six years, I roamed the lands, hearing countless rumors of Qian Gu’s growing fame in the demonic path. He seemed poised to become a formidable leader in the demonic world, with Yue Lao Hong offering him substantial help along the way.

But all of this was other people’s business. As long as he didn’t meddle with Kong Ling’s seals, it had nothing to do with me.

Traveling alone for so long eventually became dull. Reflecting on the disciples I had taken over the decades, I realized my utter failure. One disciple harbored feelings for me that crossed the line, while the other nursed resentment against me. In the end, neither could inherit my teachings.

After some deliberation, I took another disciple during my travels.

She was a lively and kind-hearted girl with exceptional talent. I named her Qian Ling—not with the expectation that her name would be remembered for eternity, nor that she would follow strict moral codes, but simply in the hope that she would live up to her great potential and become a clever, likable individual.

Bringing her back to the summit of Kong Ling, I introduced her to her senior brother, who had fallen into the demonic path, and then to her second senior brother, locked in the Ling Xu Cave with his hair and beard grown long. “You’re a girl,” I told her. “Don’t end up like them.”

Qian Ling glanced at her second senior brother behind the jade-iron bars and nodded.

In the blink of an eye, ten years passed. During this time, I began to harbor serious doubts—deep, profound doubts—about my judgment, character, and teaching abilities.

The thousandth time a junior ran up the mountain to report, “Martial Aunt has gotten into another fight with one of the uncles,” I could only wave my hand in weary resignation. “Let her fight. If she wins, I’ll deal with her. If she loses, you handle it. Just don’t let anyone die.”

My third disciple’s energy was boundless—too boundless.

Every other day, she caused some new mischief. I tried gentle reasoning, harsh scolding, and even resorted to the threat, “If you keep this up, I’ll expel you from the sect,” at least a thousand times. None of it had any effect.

Back in the day, just hearing those words would have left Qian Gu pale for three days. But kids these days… they’re getting harder and harder to manage.

One day, Qian Ling returned victorious from her latest fight, proudly declaring with a swollen eye, “Master, those scoundrels downstairs were bullying the kitchen boy again. I taught them a lesson for him. Let’s see if they dare to act tough anymore—this granny will beat them to death!”

I glanced at her. “Couldn’t you solve the problem with your head instead of your fists?”

She rubbed her nose sheepishly. “Fists are faster.”

Is this something a proper young lady should say? I sighed heavily, setting my book aside. Looking at her now, I couldn’t help but think of her as a child again.

Sigh… stifling.

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