After My Paranoid Act to Woo My Cold Master Failed - Chapter 9

A snowy-white figure arrived gracefully, landing in front of Shen Shuheng to shield her.

“Why should I not? How would I not dare?” Fu Xueke spoke as she swung her sword to clash with the grey sword-light.

The blades hummed upon impact, and sword-light rippled out like a clear moon descending into the mortal realm.

“Master!” Though blood still flowed down Shen Shuheng’s face, a brilliant smile blossomed on her lips, showing no sign of pain.

“I am here,” Fu Xueke replied, looking back at Shen Shuheng. In her usually stagnant eyes, dark undercurrents swirled as she looked upon the girl, who resembled a blood-red tulip blooming in a tragic, magnificent display.

“Shocking Swan Sword Immortal! Your disciple killed my son—do you intend to stop me from seeking vengeance?” the old man roared. “So, the Shocking Swan Sword Immortal is also one to bully others with her power!”

“And if I am? What of it?” Fu Xueke’s gaze was dark as she stared at the white-haired man.

Shen Shuheng glared at the old man, wishing she could pierce him with her sword for slandering her Master. “Qi Shen and I engaged in a Life-and-Death battle; one must bear the consequences of life or death personally. Vengeance is not permitted!”

“When your cultivation was stronger than mine, you dared to trample the rules to kill me. Now that my Master has come to help, you claim she is bullying you with her power?” Shen Shuheng laughed out of sheer anger. “You old geezer, you’re certainly skilled at shifting blame. It was your son who tried to kill me first and I simply turned the tables. He who starts the trouble is the one at fault!”

Among the disciples watching below, some—seeing the Shocking Swan Sword Immortal present—finally dared to speak their minds.

“Shen Shuheng has a point. Qi Shen usually engaged in Life-and-Death battles within the sect just to nourish his arrays with the souls of other disciples. Getting killed now is just his karma.”

“Exactly. That old man is the one bullying others; he has no grace as a high-level expert at all.”

Hearing the disciples’ discussion, the old man’s face turned various shades of red and green. The astral winds around him howled. “My son was a favored child of heaven! His life was more noble than anyone else’s! Today, I vow to avenge him!”

He had heard yesterday that Fu Xueke had reached the Soul Transformation stage. He, too, was at the Soul Transformation stage—why should he fear her?

He lunged forward to engage Fu Xueke in close combat. The brownish-grey blade clashed with the snowy-white one, sending sparks flying in every direction. The old man grit his teeth, trying to push his blade toward Fu Xueke’s throat. He was exerting so much effort that beads of sweat poured down his face like a waterfall.

Fu Xueke’s expression remained indifferent, like a silent pool under a moonlit night—deep and unfathomable. Her sword-intent was realized amidst ice and snow; thus, every strike carried a bone-chilling frost.

The old man felt as though a blizzard was roaring toward him. The sweat pouring from his forehead was actually frozen solid by her frigid sword-intent, forming icicles all over his withered, bark-like face. As he huffed and puffed in anger, his face looked utterly ridiculous.

Fu Xueke held her sword with one hand, blocking every one of the old man’s strikes, yet she delayed her counterattack. Seeing this, the old man sneered in his heart; he thought her composure was a front—that she could only barely block his strikes but lacked the strength to retaliate.

The moon-like sword-light reflected off her pale, refined face, further highlighting her clear and peerless beauty—a beauty not belonging to the mortal world. Her white robes danced in the air with the grace of whirling wind and flowing snow.

The old man stared at Fu Xueke, a glint of greed appearing in his clouded eyes. “If you are willing to submit to me and bear my offspring, this grudge can be settled.”

Fu Xueke looked at his withered face, her gaze turning dark with disgust. If it weren’t for the sake of teaching her disciple how to perceive sword techniques, she would have cleaved him in two long ago.

Shen Shuheng broke into a string of curses. “You old lecher! How dare you harbor such delusions about my Master? If my Master is a cloud in the sky, you are a cold, foul mud pit on the ground. You are unworthy!”

The old man glared coldly at Shen Shuheng. “Little brat, I will kill you sooner or later!”

Fu Xueke turned toward her disciple, a soft light appearing in her eyes. “Today, I shall teach you the second form of the Shocking Swan Sword Style: The Vanishing of a Thousand Birds.”

“Watch closely.”

Having spoken, she looked back at the old man, her gaze like a cold blade. The killing intent within it made one’s hair stand on end. Shen Shuheng watched intently, picking up her sword and mimicking her Master’s movements.

She saw her Master raise the sword and swing it horizontally. Sword-light suddenly flared, and an overwhelming storm of ice and snow descended. While Shen Shuheng felt the bone-piercing cold, a sense of desolation also rose in her heart. She seemed to see range upon range of snow-capped mountains where birds had vanished, leaving only a solitary, pure landscape.

This sword style was not about the form, but the intent. Shen Shuheng sat down and closed her eyes, using her heart to perceive the intent released by her Master’s strike.

Fu Xueke saw her disciple sit in meditation and realized she had grasped something.

The old man was consumed by fury. He was also a top-tier expert of the current age, yet Fu Xueke dared to be distracted repeatedly during their battle, acting with utter negligence as she used him to demonstrate moves for her disciple.

“You brats dare to look down on me!” The old man held his sword with both hands and struck out several grey cyclones.

Fu Xueke’s sword-play was just like her expression—possessing a sense of being as light as clouds and as soft as a breeze. Some disciples watching the fight from below saw the old man’s distorted face and his struggling efforts while the Sword Immortal remained unfazed; they began to mock him. “That old geezer is truly a clown.”

“You… Fu Xueke is just a woman; how could she possibly defeat him? She’s clearly just faking this composure!” Qi Shen’s accomplices roared in anger.

Shen Shuheng had no time to join the disciples’ verbal sparring. She felt her realm loosening; a breakthrough was imminent.

The old man’s hearing was excellent; hearing the disciples mock him made his face turn a dark, bruised red. He intentionally swung several sword-gusts toward the ground, with the strongest one flying directly toward Shen Shuheng.

The disciples on the ground turned pale with fright. They never imagined an expert would attack ordinary disciples. No wonder Qi Shen was so malicious; it was clearly hereditary.

As the violent sword-qi was about to hit them, the disciples crouched down and covered their heads in terror. Suddenly, Fu Xueke also struck out with her sword. A frigid sword-intent swept across, breaking all of the old man’s attacks with a single strike.

At that moment, all the surrounding spiritual energy rushed frantically into Shen Shuheng’s meridians. The energy around her body began to distort, becoming so violent that no one could draw near.

Seeing her disciple undergoing a breakthrough, Fu Xueke acted to prevent any interference. Her sword moved as fast as a lightning bolt, charging straight for the old man. The old man raised his sword to block, but the sword-light, like a roaring white dragon, crashed into his blade.

BOOM!

The sword in his hand was reduced to powder, scattering in the wind. In less than half a breath, a cold flash broke through his protective astral winds and pierced his heart. The old man’s eyes widened as a sharp pain radiated from his chest—the agony of a shattered heart made his breath freeze.

A pillar of blood erupted from his chest, scattering into a mist of red rain. The killing sword-intent destroyed his heart and shattered his “Sword Heart.” His first thought was to surrender, followed by the desperate urge to survive. The old man abandoned his physical body, his Nascent Soul transforming into a streak of light as it fled, seeking to possess a new vessel.

Shen Shuheng’s breakthrough had reached its most critical point. If she were disturbed now, she would at best fail the breakthrough, and at worst suffer a shattered soul. The old man flew toward Shen Shuheng, intending to seize her body.

Fu Xueke flew to block his path. The old man pulled out a bell-shaped dharma treasure. Now a grey Nascent Soul only the size of a fist, he smiled at Fu Xueke, his withered face looking utterly wretched. The bell was a Heaven-grade artifact—his life-saving treasure.

The bell rang, and smoke appeared; Fu Xueke fell into an illusion.

In an instant, the old man arrived before Shen Shuheng. As soon as Shen Shuheng opened her eyes, she saw the fist-sized old man smiling sinisterly at her, and a wave of nausea rose in her heart.

Just as the old man prepared to seize her body—

CRACK! Ten streaks of blue-purple tribulation lightning descended from the sky, turning the stone platform snowy white. One of the bolts blocked his path.

Another bolt struck Shen Shuheng. A numbing current flowed through her entire body; she felt her meridians become even more unobstructed as her body absorbed the pure, righteous power of the lightning. Lightning is righteous and can drive away evil.

A thought flashed through Shen Shuheng’s mind: the tribulation lightning was beneficial to her and didn’t hurt, but the old man was terrified of it. She reached out and grabbed the lightning as if she were holding a sword.

Swinging the purple lightning, she pierced toward the old man’s Nascent Soul. He tried to flee, but the lightning suddenly transformed into a purple dragon and swallowed him whole. He let out a painful curse, which gradually faded into nothingness.

The old man vanished completely from the world, his body dead and his soul extinguished.

When Fu Xueke broke through the smoke, what she saw was Shen Shuheng holding tribulation lightning in both hands, using them as swords. She had never seen lightning obey a person’s command, but as long as her disciple was safe, that was all that mattered.

Shen Shuheng continued to absorb the remaining lightning. Massive purple bolts poured into her body, cleansing her spiritual platform. Fu Xueke stood by her side, quietly watching her undergo the tribulation.

Shen Shuheng looked within herself and saw her previously colorless spiritual power gradually turning golden, washing through her veins. After being cleansed countless times, the power finally gathered in her dantian, condensing bit by bit into a golden sphere.

This was the Golden Core. She had reached the Golden Core stage.

The gap between the Golden Core and Foundation Building stages was like a vast chasm; only upon reaching the Golden Core stage is one considered a true cultivator. The barrier between her body and the world vanished; she no longer needed to actively absorb spiritual power, but could instead mobilize the energy of Heaven and Earth.

It was as if she were the world, and the world was her. Within each breath, she could capture the rhythmic laws of the universe—the power of the Heavenly Laws.

Opening her eyes, Shen Shuheng immediately saw her Master, who had been guarding her the entire time. She had been undergoing the tribulation for so long that night had fallen. A full moon hung in the deep blue sky, and the low chirping of insects could be heard in the distance. The elegant moonlight reflected on her Master’s face, making even the moon itself seem pale by comparison.

Shen Shuheng watched, dazed. In her heart, her Master was a lotus atop a snow mountain; she would never allow any mud to stain her. The enemies they would face in the future would be stronger and more numerous than the old man today; her cultivation was still not enough.

For her Master’s sake, she must become even stronger!

Fu Xueke saw her disciple staring blankly at her again. “What are you thinking about?”

The cold voice brought Shen Shuheng back to her senses. “No… nothing.” A flush of crimson stained her snowy cheeks. With her Master looking at her like that, she felt a bit bashful.

Suddenly, she reconsidered. Her persona was that of a paranoiac—how could she just blush so easily? Shen Shuheng plucked up her courage and forced herself to meet her Master’s gaze. “I was thinking, of course, about how to make Master belong to this disciple completely.”

“Oh?” Fu Xueke saw her disciple change from panicked to righteous, like a little animal pretending to be fierce.

She reached out and rubbed the girl’s soft hair. “Injured as you are, you likely cannot walk. I will carry you back.”