Chapter 33: Please Call Me Factory Supervisor

“Is ‘Sword God of the Heavenly Veins’ a pirated book?” Wen Jingge was someone who could never sit still; she always had to ponder things when idle. “Nonexistent” had already grown used to her eccentricities.

[How could that be? Of course not.]

“Are you sure about that?”

[Absolutely.]

“Then tell me, what do you make of my current treatment?”

The eldest disciple, Liang Si, could be ignored; he was someone who always followed Wen Jingge’s lead. The second disciple, Qiao Yu, could also be overlooked—he was currently wrapped up like a mummy, recuperating in bed, with Wang Xi feeding him every meal. The third disciple, Yang Wen’nan, cradled two swords—one the Hooked Chen, the other the Demon Zither—and was patiently polishing them, a satisfied smile on his face. The fourth disciple, Yuan Qingling, had handed over all his spirit stones and gold, and was now clinging to Wen Jingge’s leg, massaging it like the perfect spa therapist. The youngest disciple, Wang Xi, carried fruits and vegetables obtained from the various peaks, rubbing Wen Jingge’s shoulders as she fed her morsels.

“I can’t help but feel I’ve wandered into some remarkable place,” Wen Jingge mused inwardly. “The moment I opened my eyes, before I could utter a single word, everything had already become like this.”

[…]

“It’s been two days—two days! Each time I escape this torment only by pretending to be asleep. Do you know what’s going through my mind?”

[They’re not the protagonists; you needn’t care about them.]

“But I’m the villain!”

[…]

“I’m meant to become the strongest villain!”

[…]

“So, do you understand now?”

[I do not.]

“I absolutely adore this feeling! Just look at how ‘Sword God of the Heavenly Veins’ describes me: tossing thousands of gold coins just to hear a sound; throwing spirit stones simply to watch the streams flow; playing pranks for the sheer fun of it. I used to think this person was a fool, but now I realize the fool is me! It’s simply delightful.”

[…]

It had a bad premonition.

“Scatter!” Wen Jingge stood up. Her disciples exchanged glances. “I’m going out for a stroll.”

[What are you going to do?]

“I want to see my glorious domain.”

[…]

Wen Jingge went to the outer mountain. All the disciples inside and outside the gates had now donned flying-fish robes. The six remaining peak masters and all the elders had no objections—after all, they weren’t the ones footing the bill, and the flying-fish robes looked much better than the old hemp and white cloth, making it easier to showcase the unique splendor of the Xuan Yun Sect.

Then came a bizarre scene: the three disciples following her watched as their master’s gaze grew ever brighter, eyeing the disciples walking about as if they were precious treasures she wished to devour whole.

Wang Xi was bold, and as the youngest disciple, she was favored by her master. She asked, “Master, do you want to change the uniforms again?”

The legendary Wen Immortal Master, usually cold and domineering, gently shook her head, her lips curling into a twisted smile. Her voice, chilly and clear, uttered, “No, I am not your master. From now on, address me as Chief Eunuch.”

The third disciple was utterly confused, sitting on the eaves and staring at the sky, while their master, wearing the smile of a lovestruck fool, conversed with her internal system: “I’m in love with this vibe—next target.”

“Nonexistent” dared not interrupt; love it or not, the plot had already shifted, and it could only let fate take its course.

“Chief Eunuch, where are you going?” Yuan Qingling was quick on the uptake. Though Wen Jingge’s behavior was somewhat mad, eldest brother Liang Si had taught them that their master never did anything pointless.

Wen Jingge narrowed her eyes and circled Yuan Qingling. “Have you neglected your training these past days?”

Yuan Qingling was stunned—was their master about to instruct him in swordsmanship?

But then he grew troubled. Wang Xi had been busy currying favor and showing off before Wen Jingge these days. He was the least talented of the bunch, and seeing both juniors serving their master so diligently, he felt he had to do the same. He’d been waiting on Wen Jingge these last few days, leaving no time for practice.

“Your disciple is dull-witted, and has not.”

“Nor have I,” Yang Wen’nan replied. “Please punish me, Master.”

He was obsessed with swords; the sight of those two unusual blades had entranced him. Since the master had punished his junior, he knew he’d be next.

“Master~” Wang Xi cooed, refusing to kneel. “I haven’t either.”

Wen Jingge looked at her two kneeling disciples, and recalled the masses who had knelt before her upon emerging from the Nameless Illusion. Now, Wang Xi seemed more pleasing to her eye; she ruffled the girl’s hair. “Come, let’s find your eldest brother.”

“And the two senior brothers?” Wang Xi asked.

“I never told them to kneel.” Wen Jingge didn’t even glance at them, but flew her sword toward the direction of Wanzhang Peak.

Yang Wen’nan and Yuan Qingling exchanged looks, and only rose once Wen Jingge’s figure had disappeared completely.

“Fourth brother, don’t you think our master isn’t as domineering as the rumors suggest?”

“I’ve noticed that too. I heard someone say that after entering the illusion, our master had the friendly Lingxiao Peak Master help our second brother seize the top spot, supposedly as a good omen. When he first joined, second brother was humiliated by master; for an ordinary person, going from Wanzhang Peak to the outer mountain was tough, but it was precisely this that allowed him to reach the ninth rank.

I also heard the commotion on the mountain was because master protected second brother. Second brother said he was saved by an elderly figure in a black robe, and our youngest sister told me that when she met master in the illusion, master wore black. Second brother used to call master Song Qian, but once master’s disguise faded, he finally recognized her.

And have you noticed, the rumors say our master is at odds with Uncle Fan and Uncle Shan, but when I brought it up, Uncle Fan scolded me. Afterwards, I accidentally saw master on the memory stone and realized I’d been a frog in the well.

As for Uncle Shan, from my years of judging people, he doesn’t seem to dislike our master much. The other peak masters—some are close, some are respectful. Except for Lingxiao Peak, I haven’t heard of any peak master capable of making master relocate.”

“Appearances can be deceiving,” Yang Wen’nan remembered what Liang Si had said before they joined: “If master were truly so despicable, eldest brother wouldn’t have returned after leaving the peak. He attends to master’s every need.”

Meanwhile, Wen Jingge was busy on Wanzhang Peak, sending Wang Xi to Qinghong Peak to play cute and coax the tree, instructing Liang Si to tally the spirit stones, and knocking Qiao Yu unconscious—all unaware of the profound shift in her image within her disciples’ hearts.

And it wasn’t just these two direct disciples; the others held similar thoughts.

“Master, you’ve come to see me?” Qiao Yu’s eyes glistened with unshed tears, but this time he didn’t rush to embrace Wen Jingge.

After a few days of calm, he’d come to understand: master seemed harsh and unreasonable on the surface, but secretly cared for him, guiding him from behind. That alone proved his significance in her heart.

There must be a deeper reason behind master’s actions.

“Mm, I personally prepared this medicine for you. Drink it and sleep well.”

Qiao Yu didn’t ask; he drank it gratefully.

And promptly passed out.