Chapter 17

“You’re sick, very sick,” Jiang Liang said gravely, looking at the young person before him.

He knew he had a new junior sister, who was more than 800 years younger than him. He also knew that his young martial uncle, Lin Du, had joined the sect the same year as him.

Jiang Liang had an extreme fear of people, but Lin Du had once walked beside him and said, “I’m blind, so I can’t see your nervousness. Don’t worry about saying the wrong thing. There’s no need to be afraid.”

Jiang Liang had once promised his martial uncle, “I will cure your eyes, even if it means defying fate itself.”

But in the 800 years that followed, despite saving countless lives by defying fate, he couldn’t cure the blindness.

He felt a deep sense of guilt towards Yan Ye, his martial uncle.

Now, 800 years later, that very person, who had once rendered him helpless, had taken on a disciple whose fate was equally cursed, becoming the youngest junior sister of their generation.

Jiang Liang’s expression grew bitter, but then he found it darkly amusing. It seemed that all the hardships in his life were bound to this pair of master and disciple.

He turned to look at Xia Tianwu and saw her frowning with concern. “Master, can our little martial uncle still be saved?”

Lin Du was smiling, that carefree, unrestrained smile reminiscent of someone from 800 years ago.

Jiang Liang stood there in a daze for a long time before lowering his head and taking a deep breath. “I must’ve owed you two in a past life,” he muttered.

Then, he took Lin Du’s pulse with his hand, closing his eyes.

In the 90 years since Xia Tianwu had become his disciple, this was the first time she had seen her master abandon the use of his silver thread and personally take someone’s pulse, even shutting off his own senses to avoid any distractions.

“Your master has been working to make up for the deficiencies in your lungs and other organs, but your heart…”

A person’s heart was inherently incomplete, deteriorating with each passing day. Even the most precious herbs could only slow down the process, not fully repair it.

Moreover, Lin Du’s heart wasn’t made of flesh and blood; it was like shattered glass. It couldn’t be replaced. If her body were whole, she might have been the fastest person in the cultivation world to ascend without any obstacles.

But this person, with a flawed heart and incomplete lungs, was on the verge of reaching the Foundation Establishment realm just two months after entering the Taoism.

Jiang Liang couldn’t understand whether this was a sign of Heaven’s favor or jealousy.

“Don’t you ever feel unwell?” he asked.

Lin Du blinked. “You mean like chest tightness, shortness of breath, and excruciating pain with any strenuous activity, as if my heart were shattering into pieces?”

She smiled. “Well, there is a little discomfort.”

The young man then glanced at her concerned master and disciple pair. “Hey, relax, it’s all manageable.”

“I’m Lin Du: handsome, talented, loved by everyone, and a great cook. How could the world possibly let one person have all the good fortune?”

She shamelessly boasted and continued to reassure them, “If it can be treated, great. If not, well, fate is fate. I’m Lin Du, and I’ll find my own way. Don’t worry.”

She hadn’t counted on the sect to save her. After all, what was the system for if not that?

“The pills you’ve been given, take one a day. They’ll help with your lungs and other deficiencies. I’ll work on making a pill to slow your heart’s decline, and I’ll ask your senior brothers to look for remedies while they’re out. And… are you afraid of pain? Because if you are…”

“I’m not. It’s just a little pain,” Lin Du waved her hand dismissively. “I’m not that delicate.”

“Oh, well then,” Jiang Liang stroked his beard. “If you weren’t afraid of pain, I could have made something to ease your discomfort and help you move more freely.”

“But since you don’t need it…”

“But really, everyone deserves to live in comfort, right, Senior Brother? I’ll still trouble you to make that medicine for me,” Lin Du said with a grin. “I like sweet things, not bitter ones.”

Who wouldn’t choose comfort over pain if they could?

Xia Tianwu couldn’t help but ask, “Master, how long can she hold on?”

Seeing Lin Du’s calm demeanor, Jiang Liang didn’t hide the truth. “Without any treatment, only a year. But with the right herbs and continued cultivation, who knows how long it could be extended?”

None of them noticed the girl quietly standing outside the kitchen. She wore a pink gauze dress, perfect for spring, with a delicate pink butterfly hairpin trembling slightly in her hair.

Ni Jinxuan, who usually wore a smile, now had no trace of one. Her almond-shaped eyes were filled with disbelief.

She had always known that her martial uncle was the most gifted among the new disciples, the one who would cook for them when the elders refused to, who would let her eat to her heart’s content, buy her hairpins, and share sweets with her.

But she hadn’t known that Lin Du was more than just weak—she was someone constantly enduring such intense pain, someone who was… dying.

“I like sweet things, not bitter ones.”

The lighthearted tone drifted out from inside. Ni Jinxuan wiped her face with her sleeve, leaving tiny water droplets behind.

She raised her head, silently clenched her fists, and made a decision.

When Lin Du pushed the door open, she found Ni Jinxuan sitting at the table, her eyes red like a rabbit’s. “What’s wrong? Did your master scold you today? That doesn’t seem right.”

Ni Jinxuan was lively but extremely talented. In the story, although she started out as a delicate “white flower,” she was also a resilient and hardworking one, with exceptionally good luck—a little koi fish of good fortune. All the bad luck in this life was due to that Demon Lord.

But why was she crying today? According to the timeline, the Demon Lord shouldn’t appear until Ni Jinxuan reaches the Tengyun realm.

Ni Jinxuan shook her head and said, “I wasn’t good at sword-riding and got sand in my eyes from the wind.”

Lin Du chuckled and, like comforting a child, pulled out a storybook from her pocket. “Here, take it. Hide it under your blanket and read it secretly at night. Don’t let your master catch you.”

Ni Jinxuan took the book, looking confused. “What is this?”

“Something good,” Lin Du replied with a mischievous grin. “The most popular storybook from the village. Don’t look so down—you look much better when you smile.”

This little rabbit couldn’t hide her feelings; they were always written all over her face.

Ni Jinxuan, realizing that she intended to take care of her little martial uncle but instead had to be comforted by her, felt her face fall again. Tears welled up in her eyes, but she forced out a smile so hard that her face turned red.

Lin Du watched helplessly as the girl’s wrinkled smile looked more like she was crying. “What’s wrong? If nothing else, in a few days, I’ll take you to see a play. How about that? Cheer up, okay?”

Ni Jinxuan tried her best to hold back her emotions, nodding vigorously, and then volunteered to help serve the food. As Lin Du was about to set the bowls, she heard Ni Jinxuan loudly declare, “Little Martial Uncle, let me do it!”

Lin Du looked at her curiously. “What’s going on today? Did your master tell you to work harder?”

The young girl shook her head, pressing down on the rice with the ladle as she spoke. “Little Martial Uncle, you just sit down. From now on, I’ll take care of all the dirty and tiring work.”

With that, she pressed down on the rice even harder.

The bowl of rice that Lin Du received was almost twice as heavy as usual, and she had to use some force to get her chopsticks into it.

Lin Du silently stared at the rice, which Ni Jinxuan had practically compacted into a brick. “Jinxuan, you must be really good at making rice cakes.”

This child had potential! The story never mentioned that she was a super-strong girl.

She had even managed to bulge the bottom of the iron rice bowl with all that pressing.