Chapter 11

Lin Du felt that outside the forbidden grounds of the Supreme Sect, it was like “Surviving the Northeast Dirt Digging Years,” while inside the forbidden grounds, it could be described as “Me and My Cruel Master.”

The only thing that seemed normal about the Supreme Sect was the few new disciples who had just joined.

Under Yan Ye’s guidance, she quickly learned about the twelve primary meridians, the eight extraordinary meridians, and the various acupoints throughout the body.

It wasn’t that she couldn’t remember—Yan Ye’s teaching methods were extremely harsh. Whenever she struggled with a concept, he would throw her into the Luoze and let the icy water wash over her, sealing off the corresponding meridian until she managed to break through and resurface.

Even if she tried to forget, it was hard to do so. Fortunately, having been a student from Jiangsu in modern times, she was good at memorization.

The daily icy spring cleansing not only trained her heart and lungs and opened up her congested organs, but the power of the spring also helped suppress her overly rapid spiritual energy advancement, solidifying her foundation and tempering her frail body.

Yan Ye believed that once Lin Du could swim upstream to the top of the waterfall, she would no longer need to endure this kind of torment daily.

On this day, Lin Du once again broke through the ice surface with a punch and faced her cruel master’s interested smile.

“You truly are a genius, just like me,” Yan Ye said.

Lin Du rolled her eyes without hesitation.

In the cultivation world, there are seven realms: Fengchu, Qinxin, Tengyun, Huiyang, Qianyuan, Wuxiang, and Taiqing, each with four stages—early, middle, late, and great perfection.

Lin Du’s progress was astonishing. While the other new disciples were still at the mid-stage of Fengchu, she had already reached the great perfection stage and was about to advance to the Qinxin realm.

“Everyone says that Master is the top of the sword path and can freeze the entire Zhong Zhou with a single strike. If I’m like you, will I also be able to freeze the entire Zhong Zhou in the future?”

Yan Ye was taken aback by this question. “Who told you I can freeze the entire Zhong Zhou with one sword?”

Lin Du couldn’t say it was written in the script, so she casually replied, “That’s what people outside say.”

Yan Ye responded with an “oh” and then watched as she quickly used her spiritual energy to dry herself. He spoke slowly, “It seems you really don’t know anything about your master.”

Lin Du looked up into his cold gray eyes.

“The Supreme Sect may have had true sword cultivators in the past, but your master is not one of them.”

“This Luoze is a natural ice formation. I just made a few modifications to turn it into a formation that truly suits the cultivation of ice spiritual roots.”

Yan Ye snapped his fingers, and almost instantly, countless points of light appeared on his long, slender fingers. They seemed to scatter randomly, like a celestial maiden scattering flowers, but as they vanished, the entire Luoze thawed, revealing its original terrain.

Countless verdant pine trees, exotic flowers and herbs, all revealed their true forms as the sparkling ice layer melted away. The air was filled with various strange and mystical spiritual energies.

Lin Du couldn’t help but sneeze.

“I, at fifty years old, was already proficient in formations. By the age of a hundred, I had outperformed three renowned formation masters in a major formation competition and took first place. To protect myself, I started learning sword techniques and even won first place in the Zhong Zhou sect competition.”

His tone was incredibly calm, as if discussing a trivial matter, “If I weren’t an ice spiritual root and couldn’t control fire, I might have made some achievements in refining tools and alchemy.”

“So… why do you think I’m some brainless sword cultivator?”

Lin Du: …?

She pondered for a moment, “But Master, you only gave me a few books, like ‘Basic Spells of the Cultivation World,’ ‘Detailed Maps of Meridians and Acupoints,’ ‘Miscellaneous Talks of the Cultivation World,’ and ‘Chronicles of the Cultivation World.’ It’s normal that I don’t understand.”

“You’re still at the Fengchu realm,” Yan Ye reminded her. “It’s more important to solidify your physical foundation at this stage. I was more robust than you at the age of eight.”

“Oh right, right, I’m just a sickly person,” Lin Du said, resigning herself. “If this illness can’t be cured, I might as well accept my fate.”

“Accept your fate? Do you think the water of Luoze is just ordinary water?” Yan Ye flicked her on the forehead. “The Jishi Sect’s disciples only get one vial of this spiritual liquid a year, and they only dare to use one or two drops for alchemy. I’m using it as bath water for you! Can’t you show some spirit?”

Lin Du was naturally disrespectful toward her master, and Yan Ye had never had other disciples, so their interactions were quite informal.

“What can I do about my inherent shortcomings?” she said lazily, though she didn’t truly resign herself.

“Lin Du…” Yan Ye sighed, “Look at my eyes.”

“I’m looking. What’s wrong?”

“I’m blind,” Yan Ye said, “Born blind.”

Lin Du was stunned.

Yan Ye smiled, genuinely pleased, “If a blind man can become a formation master who needs to be precise in every detail, then what’s impossible?”

“So, even if your body is frail and your fate is early decline, as long as I, Yan Ye, am your master, I can make you the second miracle in this world.”

Lin Du did not ask what the first miracle was.

The first miracle was Yan Ye.

She lowered her eyes and smiled, finally understanding why his eyes, though they looked at her, were always expressionless and cold. Only by observing the movement of his facial muscles could she detect his playful and relaxed demeanor.

A disciple of a blind man is a waste, quite fitting.

Cultivators, though blind, can always project their spiritual sense, making it possible to “see” in a sense.

“So, you’re my disciple. I don’t ask for you to surpass me, but at least show some spirit and survive.”

Yan Ye said, “Alright, it’s time. If you’re late, your chicken leg will be gone, so hurry up.”

Lin Du stood up, a wooden hairpin appearing in her hand as she quickly styled her hair. “Master, want to make a bet?”

Yan Ye turned to look, “What bet?”

“Bet that I’ll become the top of the formation path a year earlier than you, without needing to study sword techniques, and still win first place in the Zhong Zhou competition.”

Her youthful voice was clear and carried a distinct enunciation, contrasting with the northern accent. Amid the roar of the waterfall, her words remained crisp and audible.

Yan Ye smiled, “I hope you can.”

As Lin Du left, Luoze refroze.

The white-haired man sat quietly on the ice surface, remaining silent for a long time. He lifted his hand to touch his eyes, and his white eyelashes trembled.

The child Lin Du hadn’t even asked if she could be cured.

Neither he nor she herself.

Cultivators below the Tengyun realm can only fly using magical tools. Although Yan Ye had been in seclusion for many years, his resources were far richer than those of the real practitioners who had to struggle for their livelihood.

Lin Du took out a bamboo-leaf-shaped flying magical tool from the storage ring given to her by Yan Ye and, with a thought, headed straight for the dining hall.

She really didn’t want to miss out on the chicken leg.

Lin Du didn’t know which real practitioner was cooking today.

Just as she was about to reach the dining hall, she suddenly heard a huge explosion, followed by an echo through the mountains.

“Oh no! Second Senior Sister blew up the stove while making soup!”

Lin Du stopped in her tracks, realizing that dinner would be delayed again tonight.