After My Paranoid Act to Woo My Cold Master Failed - Chapter 6

While manipulating her spirit-fire, Shen Shuheng noticed that her fire was different from everyone else’s. Their flames were bright yellow, while hers alone was a vivid flame-red. Combining this with what Chu Qingshui had said about her fire being problematic, she was certain that Feng Ya had sabotaged her again.

She stopped dwelling on it and focused entirely on controlling the intensity, adjusting the heat to a low simmer. The Rejuvenation Pill was almost ready.

Suddenly, a tiny spark of spirit-fire burrowed into the space between her eyebrows, though she didn’t notice it. A bead of sweat formed on her fair forehead, rolling down quickly to rest on her thick eyelashes. A flickering light sparkled in her eyes. Shen Shuheng’s round, almond-shaped eyes unconsciously curved into a smile; her pill was finally almost finished.

Suddenly, there was a loud BOOM!

A flash of fire erupted, followed by thick black smoke. A burnt smell wafted into her nose. Shen Shuheng uncovered the furnace lid; the pill that should have been smooth and round was now shattered into several pieces.

Looking up, she saw Feng Ya in the distance, smiling at her with a sinister, gloating expression—he practically had “I sabotaged you” written across his face.

“All disciples should have finished refining their pills. Take them out and place them on your desks!”

Shen Shuheng calmly reached her pale hand into the soot-stained furnace, took out the pill shattered into three pieces, and spread them on the table. Her other hand remained inside the furnace, her fingers poking a spot on the bottom that felt suspiciously soft. The texture of an alchemy furnace should never be like this.

She pressed down hard with her fingertip, and her finger actually poked right through the bottom of the furnace. This furnace was so cheaply made that they hadn’t even bothered to use enough Mystic Iron.

Beside her, Chu Qingshui watched in horror as Shen Shuheng, seemingly terrifyingly strong, poked a hole through the furnace bottom with her bare hand. “Fellow Daoist Shen, you…”

Shen Shuheng turned her head to look at Chu Qingshui. “Don’t let your imagination run wild. Try it yourself and you’ll see.” She withdrew her hand and made an inviting gesture.

Doubtfully, Chu Qingshui reached in as well. With a light press of her finger, another hole appeared next to the one Shen Shuheng had made. Chu Qingshui got more excited the more she pressed, eventually using her palm to smack a massive crater into the furnace. “The quality of this furnace is terrible, but it’s actually quite stress-relieving!”

Feng Ya had already walked to the back row, his face turning green as he glared at them. “You failed your refinement and are taking your anger out on the furnace. With such a mindset, your path to immortality surely won’t be long!”

The “greasy” male lead was back with his passive-aggressive comments. Shen Shuheng simply lifted the furnace and placed it upside down on the desk. All the disciples looked toward them, their expressions identical to Chu Qingshui’s earlier—wide-eyed with shock.

“Only someone at the Nascent Soul stage should be able to destroy objects made of Mystic Iron. She’s only at the Foundation Building stage, yet she…!” some disciples cried out.

“Destroying sect property shall be handled according to the rules,” Feng Ya reminded everyone, his face pulled into a long, grimace-like scowl.

Shen Shuheng remained calm as she watched the male lead throw a fit. “If there was a problem with the furnace to begin with, how could a Foundation Building disciple like me have the power to destroy it?”

“You failed to refine the pill and now you seek to quibble,” Feng Ya countered. He had never expected Shen Shuheng to start picking at the furnace with her fingers; he couldn’t let anyone discover that the furnace had been tampered with. Feng Ya unconsciously raised his hand to wipe his face.

Shen Shuheng gestured to some disciples who looked eager to touch the furnace. “Friends, come and try my furnace for yourselves. You’ll see that you can poke holes in it just as easily.”

Feng Ya roared at her, “Don’t be so insolent! No disciple is permitted to listen to her nonsense!”

Just as he finished speaking, he saw two disciples already reaching into the furnace. A male disciple in yellow tapped the bottom, and another hole appeared. “I can also destroy Mystic Iron that only Nascent Soul experts are supposed to break!”

A delicate female disciple beside him gave him a contemptuous look. “The material used for the bottom isn’t Mystic Iron at all; it’s Clay-Essence Iron. It can’t withstand spirit-fire at all.”

Feng Ya’s plan to humiliate her in front of everyone had backfired again.

Watching Feng Ya’s sagging face, Shen Shuheng couldn’t help but laugh out loud. “Martial Uncle, I told you there was a problem with the furnace. You cursed my immortal path without rhyme or reason; you should apologize to this disciple.”

“Even your pill turned out shattered. Your talent is low to begin with; why should I apologize?” Feng Ya snapped.

Just as Shen Shuheng was preparing to unleash more “verbal fire” on the male lead, the delicate female cultivator who had identified the material picked up the shattered pill and examined it closely.

“Though this pill is broken, its quality is excellent, and the medicinal energy hasn’t leaked out. If it hadn’t shattered, its grade would be Heaven-grade.”

Shen Shuheng smiled at her, her gaze full of gratitude. Feng Ya, exasperated, pointed a finger at the female cultivator. “Am I the Elder or are you? This is a failed pill!”

The male lead is truly both stupid and wicked. How on earth did he become the protagonist in the book? she grumbled internally.

“Does Elder Feng question the eyes of the Young Master of the ‘Heaven-on-Water’ Material Firm?” A male disciple stood up, his gaze sharp as he stared down Feng Ya.

Just as Shen Shuheng was about to ask Chu Qingshui, her friend whispered to her, “‘Heaven-on-Water’ is the largest material firm on our continent. Their auctioned goods are the best of the best. Questioning their Young Master is equivalent to pointing at their nose and calling their firm a fraud.”

No wonder no disciple dared to speak up for Feng Ya; even his own disciples didn’t dare stand up.

Shen Shuheng decided to add fuel to the fire. “Martial Uncle cursed my path to immortality and even pointed and shouted at people. Shouldn’t you apologize to the disciples?”

Feng Ya flicked his sleeve forcefully and turned his back on them. “Refining a pill of that grade was a mere fluke. If you can refine a Heaven-grade Qi-Condensing Pill in the next class, I will personally apologize to you both.”

Shen Shuheng rolled her eyes at Feng Ya’s retreating back as he fled the scene. She packed her things and prepared to go to another location for a class on Continental History. Cultivation school rules were much like university; they loved changing classrooms.

Hovering in the air on her sword, Shen Shuheng noticed a woman standing on Chu Qingshui’s sword—the same person who had helped clear her name.

“Gu Mian said she felt weak, so I’m giving her a ride.”

Shen Shuheng saw Gu Mian’s hand naturally wrapped around Chu Qingshui’s waist. “I see,” she said, giving them a meaningful look.

Riding her flying sword, Shen Shuheng quickly arrived at the lecture hall. A soft breeze carrying the scent of distant flowers brushed against her hair. She was already exhausted, and this spring breeze made her want nothing more than to fall asleep. Since there were no skills to learn in this class, she decided to catch up on some rest.

She wandered to the back row, took a seat in the inner corner on the left, and immediately put her face down on the desk, ignoring the world.

Shen Shuheng vaguely heard a female voice begin the lecture. It was as clear and pleasant as spring water striking mountain rocks, sounding very much like her Master.

“Since a thousand years ago, the various races of the continent have been in constant conflict, and evil energy has run rampant… to this day, no one has achieved ascension again.”

The spring breeze occasionally ruffled her hair against her ear, feeling itchy. Combined with the lecturer’s beautiful voice, her consciousness sank, and she fell completely asleep.

When Fu Xueke saw her disciple asleep in her class, she walked down from the podium. Chu Qingshui anxiously cast one small spell after another toward Shen Shuheng, hoping she would wake up quickly. But those spells hit Shen Shuheng like stones sinking into the ocean, without causing a single ripple.

Gu Mian pressed down on Chu Qingshui’s hand, a gentle smile appearing on her lips. “She’ll be fine.”

Fu Xueke walked up behind Shen Shuheng. She lowered her gaze, her long lashes casting a small shadow that quivered slightly as her eyes moved. She reached out and gently rubbed Shen Shuheng’s head a few times, but the girl remained motionless.

A curve appeared on Fu Xueke’s lips. She hooked her finger slightly and tapped Shen Shuheng’s head. Though it was a tap, the movement was incredibly gentle.

“Wake up,” Fu Xueke whispered into her ear as she leaned down. Shen Shuheng still didn’t move, but the tip of her pale ear turned a shade of red.

“If my Master saw me like this, he would have slammed a scabbard against my head and then twisted my ear,” Chu Qingshui whispered to Gu Mian.

Fu Xueke seemed somewhat helpless. Since Shen Shuheng hadn’t woken up, she could only pat her back. “Stop sleeping.”

“Dumplings today? Good…” Shen Shuheng suddenly jumped up. She had heard the word “dumplings” (shuijiao sounds like “sleep” in Chinese).

She opened her eyes and took a step back in shock. “Master… why are you here?” She was panicking—the same panic of a student getting caught sleeping in class by their parent.

“I am here to teach your class.”

“Being like this truly deserves punishment.” A ruler two fingers wide flew into Fu Xueke’s hand. It was made of ordinary bamboo, emerald green and emitting a soft, lustrous glow. The green ruler lay in her Master’s snowy-white palm.

Shen Shuheng’s attention was once again snared by her Master’s beautiful fingers; her eyes were glued to those slender digits.

“Hold out your hand.”

Shen Shuheng obediently spread her palm, but the expected stinging pain never came. The ruler merely skimmed across her palm like a dragonfly touching the water, the cool, smooth bamboo creating a slight itch.

“Did you not rest well last night?” Fu Xueke asked softly.

Shen Shuheng looked at her Master and nodded innocently.

“What were you doing?”

Shen Shuheng stared at her Master, stunned for a moment. How could Master not know what I was doing last night? She looked closely at her Master; she seemed to truly have no memory of what had transpired the night before.

Fine, I shouldn’t say it in front of so many people.

A thought struck Shen Shuheng, and her stunned expression instantly shifted into one of frantic devotion. “How could Master not know what I did? This disciple was, of course, practicing, all so that Master might look at me more—so that your eyes would only hold me.”

She was very satisfied with these words. She sounded exactly like a disciple who was crazed for her Master—a “paranoiac” who would hit a wall for her.

Fu Xueke’s eyes shifted slightly, like a breeze passing over a lake, creating ripples. Some gossiping disciples who heard Shen Shuheng’s words felt their pupils shake; they felt they had just heard a scandalous master-disciple secret they weren’t supposed to know.

Chu Qingshui, who had just been wishing her own Master could be like Fu Xueke, immediately shook her head after sensing the unusual relationship between this pair.