Chapter 32: The Master Is Powerful, Yet Excessively Greedy

After much hardship and difficulty, Wen Jinge finally made it out.

Standing outside the cave entrance was Shan Hongxing. When he saw her emerge, he turned to leave, prompting Wen Jinge to glare inexplicably at his retreating figure. Wen Jinge felt a pang of regret—such a good opportunity to establish herself as a vicious villain was slipping through her fingers. She could almost hear her heart shattering with disappointment.

Why couldn’t her body endure a three-hundred-round duel with Shan Hongxing, and only then be exhausted? How was she supposed to prove, in the days to come, that she was the one who had killed him? Wen Jinge felt utterly exasperated!

“Disciple humbly requests to take Immortal Master Wen as his teacher!” Yuan Qingling seized the moment, dropping to his knees as soon as he saw Wen Jinge was busy with her unpacked clothes.

Wen Jinge: …

“Disciple humbly requests to take Immortal Master Wen as his teacher!” Yang Wennan also knelt down without hesitation.

Wen Jinge: …

“Disciple humbly requests to take Immortal Master Wen as his teacher!”

Looking at the group of people kneeling before her—some familiar, others not—Wen Jinge was completely at a loss. Was she not vicious enough? How had she suddenly become… the idol of a group? Goosebumps rose on her skin. Something was definitely wrong. This was not how the script was supposed to go!

“Nonexistent” had slipped away at some point, and during that time, the book *Heavenly Pulse Sword God* had become half a prophetic reference in Wen Jinge’s hands. She believed her only task was to stay as close to the main plot as possible, to keep this world functioning as it should.

The flutter of a butterfly’s wings could set off a storm. She didn’t want to trigger a chain reaction. If *Heavenly Pulse Sword God* failed her, she truly wouldn’t know where to go from there.

“You all…” Wen Jinge took a step back, feigning composure and ignoring everything as she tugged at the flying fish robe Bai Rongfa had made for her. “Heh, heh… this outfit! Bai Rongfa, get over here! What’s with these dragon horns? Why are they so ugly? And the color is all wrong!”

“Yes, yes!” Bai Rongfa, called over before she even finished, already knew Wen Jinge had lost her temper in the illusion. This young lady had been fiery ever since joining Xuan Yun Sect. He was well prepared for a scolding. “Just tell me how you want it changed!”

“Change? Change my foot!” Hoping to appear fierce—and perhaps frighten off some eager disciples—Wen Jinge kicked Bai Rongfa.

But Bai Rongfa, ever cheerful and quick to forget past grievances, only grinned more broadly.

Wen Jinge was left frustrated. Why hadn’t she chosen someone with a cold demeanor for this job in the first place?

“Disciple humbly requests Immortal Master Wen to accept me as a student!” Seeing Wen Jinge about to leave, the sharp-eyed disciples called out even louder.

“Noise, noise, noise! You’ll drive me mad!” Wen Jinge paced restlessly. “Those who helped me set up the array—back to Wanzhang Peak!”

“Peak Master! Your robe!”

“I’ll have Liang Si deliver spirit stones! If you’d rather gold or other stones, talk to her. My youngest disciple, Wang Xi, Ninth Princess of the Qianyan Empire…”

“Heehee, hello, Uncle. I’m the Ninth Princess of the Qianyan Empire, and I’m rich.” Wang Xi smiled serenely, perfectly at ease compared to the eager would-be disciples. Though her master preferred her family’s gold mines and spirit veins, what was hers belonged to her master as well!

“Hey, hey!” Bai Teng hurried over, even forgetting to set up a barrier. Clad in white, he bumped into Wen Jinge and, upon spotting Tang Miaomiao behind her, scolded, “You brat! Why are you following her? Weren’t you supposed to be mine?”

“Immortal Bai…” Tang Miaomiao lowered her head, pouting shyly. “I just think Immortal Wen might be a little bit more powerful, just a tiny bit more…”

“You stay!” Wen Jinge, eager to return and get some sleep, had no intention of fighting for disciples. “Wang Sichun, you’re a spellcaster, aren’t you?”

“Ah! Yes, yes.” Wang Sichun’s mouth no longer spewed fire. She was nowhere near as resilient as Tang Miaomiao, her energy severely depleted. Though her eyes were open, she was half-asleep. “Yes, humbly request to take Immortal Master Wen as my teacher.”

“Go find Song Huan, then.”

“Oh, alright.” Wang Sichun nodded drowsily, not even knowing what she’d just agreed to, and was led away by one of Song Huan’s disciples.

“Yang Wennan, carry your senior brother!”

“O-okay!” Yang Wennan was so happy that, when he hoisted Qiao Yu onto his shoulder, he bounced him a little as though he were carrying pork, causing Qiao Yu some pain. “Sorry, senior brother. I’m just… too happy.”

Qiao Yu: …

“Well, well.” Fan Zifan returned after Bai Teng. There were too many injured disciples, so he had come back to maintain order. When he spotted Yuan Qingling, he was surprised. “Isn’t this the head of our Sword Sect of Gathering Moon?”

Wen Jinge, who had been about to leave, stopped in her tracks. Yang Wennan, puzzled, halted as well. Wang Xi looked confused; Yuan Qingling didn’t come forward.

“Head of the sect?”

“Master…” Wang Xi was bumped by Wen Jinge. She smiled uncertainly, not understanding what was wrong with her master.

“Are you rich?”

Wang Xi: …

She remembered her father once saying in the capital that immortals cared little for worldly possessions, mentioning how, when the immortal who saved their Qianyan clan from disaster left, all she asked for was a peach orchard, which she took away with her.

That immortal was Wen Jinge. After her portrait had been enshrined in the royal family, the Qianyan clan gradually prospered, relying on their herbs and silver to become the Qianyan Empire. Besides, she’d long heard that her master’s Wanzhang Peak was the richest among the seven peaks!

She was bewildered—her master was so powerful, how could she be so greedy? Was this the character of an immortal?

“Probably,” she replied.

The Qianyan Empire had many small sects, though their cultivation and magical arts were superficial at best. Mostly, these sects were a way for their leaders to make money, which was why her father had banned any sects within a hundred miles of the imperial city, to prevent them from misleading the young.

“Not anymore,” Yuan Qingling said, his mood gloomy.

Before joining Xuan Yun Sect, he had looked down on the likes of Wen Jinge—arrogant, favored by diviners and senior brothers alike. But, having gotten to know her, he realized he had been the frog in the well; she truly had the power to turn the tides and the right to be proud.

Now, he was completely won over by Wen Jinge, even wishing to take her as his master. But after encountering the ever-perceptive Fan Zifan again, he realized how foolish his hopes were.

“How old are you?” Wen Jinge leaned against a stone pillar, arms crossed, one foot forward, speaking with a hint of roguishness. “You’re not as young as the others, are you?”

“Sixty-seven,” Yuan Qingling answered, somewhat ashamed. “And only at the seventh stage of cultivation.”

His words drew a burst of laughter from the surrounding disciples, most of whom looked down on him.

“How do you maintain your appearance?”

“Elixirs.”

“Only elixirs?”

“Yes.” Yuan Qingling felt the weight of every gaze, his embarrassment growing. He wanted nothing more than to leave.

“Are you rich? Gold stones, spirit stones—either will do.”

A spark of hope appeared in Yuan Qingling’s eyes. “I am.”

“I’m just a commoner! You’re older now; I won’t be spending money on you. If you’ve thought it through, follow me.”

“Yes, yes! Thank you, Master!”