Master 04

The sect master arrived swiftly.

He acted like a seasoned superior, inquiring about Fang Zhiyi’s health with concern, even bringing gifts, before smiling and asking about his cultivation progress.

Fang Zhiyi didn’t bother hiding anything—why would he, with his level of strength?

The sect master’s expression shifted dramatically, but he quickly composed himself and launched into a speech about how worried he’d been over the years for Fang Zhiyi and how hard he’d worked to maintain the sect.

To Fang Zhiyi, it was all empty talk. After exchanging pleasantries and accepting the gifts, he promptly showed the sect master the door.

The sect master kept praising Fang Zhiyi as a blessing to the Xuantian Sect. Fang Zhiyi’s face remained impassive, but inwardly, he couldn’t help but grudgingly admire the old man’s audacity. It seemed all his cultivation points had gone into thickening his face—he might as well have claimed credit for Fang Zhiyi’s achievements.

The next day, Shen Xiaoxiao woke up late in her own bed. Panicking, she scrambled to get ready—she still had chores to do in the outer sect.

But the moment she stepped outside, she saw Fang Zhiyi sitting in a chair, waiting.

Suddenly, yesterday’s events came rushing back. So it hadn’t been a dream.

The other disciples emerged as well, staring at Fang Zhiyi in uneasy silence. None of them had been personally taught by him, and no one knew what to expect now.

Shen Xiaoxiao lowered her head and tried to slip away, but Fang Zhiyi called out, "Where do you think you’re going?"

"Master, I have chores in the outer sect today..." she whispered.

"Chores my ass! Did you forget everything I said yesterday? From today onward, none of you are doing any chores. If anyone has a problem with that, they can come talk to me!"

Shen Xiaoxiao froze in place. Jiang Leng stepped forward and asked, "Master, then what should we do today?" He could hardly believe it—his nominal master had actually stopped secluding himself.

Fang Zhiyi glanced at him. "First, we’ll establish seniority among you."

"What?"

"No, wait—let’s sort out who’s who. Who joined first?"

Jiang Leng looked around before clasping his hands and answering, "It was me."

"Good, you’re the eldest disciple now." He went down the line until he reached Shen Xiaoxiao. It was almost laughable—only now did they learn who was senior to whom. As Fang Zhiyi called each name, his heart sank. These disciples really were the dregs, the ones no one else wanted. Not only did they lack talent, their foundations were abysmal.

So much for fairy tales about underdogs with mixed spiritual roots stumbling upon destiny and rising to greatness.

The disciples watched Fang Zhiyi’s darkening expression, too afraid to speak. None of them knew his temper, but judging by yesterday, he was clearly not a patient man.

Fang Zhiyi rummaged in his robes and pulled out a bag of spirit stones—yesterday’s "gift" from the sect master. He tossed it to Jiang Leng. "Hey, Jiang Leng, take a few people down the mountain and buy proper clothes. Look at the rags you’re wearing."

Jiang Leng caught the bag and peered inside. "Master, what kind of clothes? The sect has rules—disciples’ robes are supposed to be uniformly issued."

"Uniform my ass! Look at what the others wear, then look at yourselves. You call that uniform?"

Fang Zhiyi pulled a sheet of paper from his sleeve. "I designed these last night. Find a decent tailor and have them made to order." He paused, then waved dismissively. "All of you, go! They’ll need to take measurements."

He shooed all dozen-plus disciples away, but not before pulling Jiang Leng aside for a hushed conversation.

Once they were gone, Fang Zhiyi plopped onto the ground with a sigh.

"Absolute scraps... Maybe I should steal that demonic artifact and make them train with it?" He was at a loss.

As Jiang Leng’s group descended the mountain, they drew curious glances from other disciples. Word had spread—Master Qingxu of Qingxu Peak had emerged from seclusion and summoned all his disciples yesterday! Rumor had it his cultivation was terrifying!

A few outer sect disciples tried to strike up conversations, but Jiang Leng kept his mouth shut. Years of hardship had taught him that gloating never ended well. If they returned only to find their master gone again, things would be even worse.

For the most part, they passed without incident—until they ran into Shen Wanwan. She was chatting with a few fellow disciples, but the moment she spotted Jiang Leng’s group, a flash of hatred crossed her eyes. That slap from yesterday had kept her up all night.

"Well, well, if it isn’t the little maid! Going somewhere? Did your master kick you out?"

Shen Xiaoxiao, already uneasy, shrank further at the taunts.

For a cultivator, a slap was nothing—but being humiliated in front of so many? That stung.

When Shen Xiaoxiao stayed silent, Shen Wanwan pressed on. "Cat got your tongue? Look at you. You should be grateful I was kind enough to bring you to the Xuantian Sect. Did you really think you could turn into a phoenix?"

Jiang Leng, leading the group, instinctively ignored her, as did the others. Shen Wanwan, emboldened, stepped forward. "Slap yourself a few times, and maybe I’ll consider forgiving you. I’ll even ask my master to take you back as my maid. How about that?"

Blocked, Shen Xiaoxiao glanced at her senior brothers ahead. None of them reacted. Her heart sank. Of course—it had always been this way. She couldn’t expect others to fight her battles.

But seeing Shen Wanwan’s haughty demeanor and the protective disciples behind her, Shen Xiaoxiao couldn’t help but envy her. Shen Wanwan had it all—doted on at home, doted on here.

"I’m talking to you!" Shen Wanwan shoved her.

Shen Xiaoxiao hung her head, torn. Part of her wanted to run back to Fang Zhiyi, but wouldn’t that just make him despise her? A cowardly, talentless waste...

Shen Wanwan wasn’t about to wait. She raised her hand, and Shen Xiaoxiao braced herself.

Fine. One more slap wouldn’t kill her. Better not delay everyone else.

But the blow never landed. Peeking through squinted eyes, Shen Xiaoxiao was stunned to see Jiang Leng gripping Shen Wanwan’s wrist.

"Shen Wanwan, what do you think you’re doing to our junior sister?"

The words left both Shen Wanwan and Shen Xiaoxiao speechless.

Junior sister? A strange warmth stirred in Shen Xiaoxiao’s chest.

"Jiang Leng, don’t act high and mighty! Let go!" one of Shen Wanwan’s lackeys snapped.

"Are you all blind?" Jiang Leng shot back.

The Qingxu Peak disciples exchanged glances. Then, one stepped forward. "You started this!"

With that, the rest rallied behind him. Shen Wanwan’s group of three or four was now facing over a dozen—even if they were "scraps," numbers alone were intimidating. Two senior brothers pulled Shen Xiaoxiao protectively behind them.