A thick, black, sticky substance coating her arms and legs.

Impurities.

Her body… was expelling impurities.

Her mind stalled.

This shouldn't be possible.

Normally, only cultivators—real cultivators—experienced impurity discharge when breaking through levels, especially during early stages like Qi Refining. But she didn't even have a technique. She didn't have a single sliver of qi in her meridians.

So why—how—was her body reacting like this?

Zhirou, meanwhile, was still pouting in frustration as she realized her sister wasn't listening to a single word she said. She opened her mouth to complain again, but—

Sniff. Sniff.

Her small nose scrunched violently as a horrendous stench slapped her across the face.

"What is this disgusting smell?!"

The words barely left her lips before a hand clamped over her mouth.

Fang Biyu's face turned bright red as she grabbed her little sister by the collar and practically dragged her toward the courtyard's bathing area—where students cleaned themselves after training.

Zhirou flailed in protest, muffled outrage bubbling beneath her sister's palm as they vanished around the corner.

On the rocking chair, Wang Chen watched the two sisters sprint away and raised a brow. The scene was amusing, but his attention quickly drifted back to the pair approaching him.

Then—

His eyebrows rose further.

Something interesting had reached his ears.

And that lazy smile of his sharpened ever so slightly, like someone who had just found a peculiar secret hidden in plain sight.

"She wants to accept me as master… you say…" Wang Chen repeated slowly, tasting each word as though it were something absurd he needed to double-check for accuracy.

He turned his head and took a long look at his eldest disciple.

Lin Huang stood there like a completely different person from the furious, broken youth Wang Chen had picked up months ago. The twisted hatred that once clung to him like a second skin had faded; in its place was a calm, elegant presence, refined almost to the point of nobility.

Only a few months… and he's already grown this much?

Wang Chen's thoughts sighed inwardly. Perhaps the people around us really do change us.

On the outside, his expression didn't shift. Poker-faced, unreadable, irritatingly calm.

Lin Huang, however, grew tense the moment he saw that look. The faint hope in his eyes trembled. He truly wanted Zhao Yunfei to be accepted—it wasn't hard to see why.

His own Dao bone had been ripped out by the person he trusted most. Zhao Yunfei had been abandoned by her family just because she was blind.

Two kinds of betrayal. Two kinds of wounds that went deeper than flesh.

Then Wang Chen's voice fell like a hammer striking ice.

"I refuse."

Just two words. But they hit Lin Huang like thunder.

His mind blanked; his chest tightened. Zhao Yunfei, who had quietly gathered her courage behind him, instantly lost all color in her face.

"Teacher…" Lin Huang's voice cracked with a pleading that slipped out before he could stop it.

Wang Chen glanced at his disciple's expression—saw the distress, the silent hope—and for a tiny moment, he almost wavered.

Almost.

But he forced the thought away.

The system hadn't prompted him with even a hint of a quest regarding Zhao Yunfei. Even with her monstrous status window, the thing was silent. That alone was a warning louder than thunder.

And accepting her as a disciple… absolutely not. She devoured providence just by existing next to someone. If she stayed close to him, she might drain his already pitiful luck dry and leave him with nothing.

He couldn't risk that.

But letting her walk away freely was equally unacceptable.

He still needed to study her—her nature, her abilities, the law-bending thing inside her that twisted fate itself. She was a living treasure trove of anomalies, the kind of being people wrote legends about.

A complicated look briefly passed through his eyes before he buried it under that familiar lazy indifference.

He had to refuse her.

But he absolutely wasn't letting her go.

Wang Chen didn't let the heavy silence linger.

Instead, his voice flowed out smooth and indifferent, as if everything had already been decided long before anyone else had caught up.

"I refuse to accept her as a disciple because you, my disciple Lin Huang, are more suited to teach her and guide her on the path of cultivation."

The words landed softly, but the meaning struck like a hammer.

"Me?"

Lin Huang pointed at himself, eyes widening in disbelief. In all the possibilities he imagined, this… was not one of them.

"Yes, you," Wang Chen replied, raising an eyebrow. "Or could it be you don't think you are capable enough?"

There was no mockery in his tone—just calm expectation, the kind a master used when he already knew the answer.

Lin Huang's lips trembled slightly. His heart felt too full—of pressure, responsibility, and something else he didn't dare name.

"I… am capable," he finally said.

It wasn't loud.

It wasn't dramatic.

But it carried a weight that settled into him like a new destiny.

Whether he liked it or not, he had accepted Zhao Yunfei.

Behind him, Zhao Yunfei's stiff shoulders loosened. Relief washed over her face, soft and fragile. Compared to the distant, unfathomable Wang Chen, Lin Huang felt warmer. More human. Someone she could follow without fear.

Wang Chen's lips curled upward the moment he saw her expression.

"Good," he said softly. "As expected of my disciple."

…

Thud.

Zhao Yunfei gently placed the freshly brewed teacup on the ground, her movements careful and elegant despite the blindfold covering her eyes.

Lin Huang accepted it with a faint smile. He raised the cup, drank it in one go, and set it down with a steady exhale.

The simple gesture finalized everything—master and disciple, bound by intention and acknowledgment.

Still, an odd feeling clung to him. She looked his age… maybe even older. Taking her as his disciple felt strange, like stepping into a role he had never expected to play.

A quiet responsibility he couldn't shrink away from now.

…

Steam curled softly in the air of the communal bath, carrying the scent of warm herbs and lotus soap. The entire room was hazy, the lantern light blurring into gentle halos.

Inside the pool, the Fang sisters soaked in the warm water, their bodies submerged up to their shoulders. Only their flushed faces and a hint of delicate collarbones peeked above the surface.

Fang Biyu scrubbed the impurities from her skin, watching dark flecks drift away like fading ink. When she glanced sideways, she immediately noticed Fang Zhirou had the same filth clinging to her body—though not as much.

Younger age had its perks.

Just as she was examining her sister, the water splashed violently.

Fang Zhirou lunged forward and wrapped her arms around Fang Biyu with the ferocity of a squirrel attacking a fruit.

"Big sister! How many times have I told you to stop eating so much? Look, you've gotten even fatter! At this rate, people are going to laugh at you when you walk!"

"I–I don't want it!"

Fang Biyu whined, face burning, her voice cracking between embarrassment and childish protest.

Her entire face turned crimson as she felt her little sister's petite form pressing against her. The proximity, the warmth, the soft skin—it all scrambled her thoughts.

Without thinking, her fist smacked down on Fang Zhirou's head.

"Naughty little sister! Hmph! You just want to take advantage of me. Don't think I don't see through your little schemes!"

Fang Zhirou yelped dramatically, sinking back into the water like a sulking duck.

And in the hazy steam, laughter echoed softly—a warm, domestic contrast to the chaos that had nearly taken their lives just hours ago.

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