After My Thoughts Were Read, My Master Led Me to Change My Fate - Chapter 65.2

The disciples nearby heard her lying but dared not step forward to speak. Helan Mianmian looked up, about to say something, but the disciple beside her tugged her sleeve and gave her a warning look. Helan Mianmian ignored it and still stepped forward. “That’s not true. Lan Ze initiated the provocation and said overly hurtful things!”

“You’re close to her, so of course you’d say that. Master, ask the others and see if it’s true.”

Ping Zilai looked at the surrounding disciples. They were all trembling in fear, let alone daring to speak up.

“Shut up! Lan Ze, be careful of retribution!” Helan Mianmian shouted.

“Helan Mianmian, step down. Do not speak again. Ning Songwu, you speak for yourself,” Ping Zilai looked at Ning Songwu.

Ning Songwu was still suppressing a mouthful of blood. She only gnashed her teeth in hatred, grinding them until they nearly shattered. She looked slowly at Lan Ze and uttered a few words:

“If I had the chance to do it again, I would ensure her injuries were far worse than this.”

Lan Ze squeezed a few tears from the corners of her eyes, looking tearfully at Ping Zilai. “Master, look at her! So brazen! Why keep her in Beifa?”

Ping Zilai looked at Ning Songwu and slowly asked, “I’ll give you one more chance. What exactly do you have to say?”

Ning Songwu desperately wanted to cry, more than anything.

But she couldn’t cry.

A faint memory flashed through her mind of when she was still in the Rongku Pavilion, not long ago.

Master had been away from Beifa for more than ten days, and she missed her terribly. Master finally came back. Master took her to the plum garden. Master taught her how to practice the sword.

But she couldn’t practice well. Master was slightly angry and said, “Falling to the ground and crying when you can’t complete a task? What kind of behavior is that?”

She still remembered how cold the plum garden was that night, with scattered petals falling through the air. A few petals landed on Master’s shoulder, but Master didn’t even notice. Master’s angry face truly panicked her. Her heart squeezed in nervousness. She thought, I must never make Master angry again in my entire life.

Crying while sitting on the ground is truly improper.

Ning Songwu took a deep breath, forcibly held back her tears, and spoke one word at a time:

“Disciple has nothing to say.”

Ping Zilai was silent for a moment and said, “Ning Songwu, you truly disappoint me. If Honored Lord Ran Fanyin saw this, she would also be utterly disappointed.” Ping Zilai sighed, casting his gaze toward some empty spot outside the main hall door. “Go to the Disciplinary Hall and receive twenty strikes. You don’t need to attend cultivation classes for ten days.”

Two disciples stepped forward. One on each side, they grabbed Ning Songwu’s arms and half-dragged, half-pulled her out of the main hall.

Ning Songwu only remembered Helan Mianmian’s anxious face staring at her and Lan Ze’s self-satisfied expression as she turned her head.

Ning Songwu lay expressionless on the long bench. The disciple in charge of administering the punishment on one side looked at her with a troubled expression.

Such a small child, looking no older than nine or ten, and a delicate girl at that, how can I bring myself to strike her? It was just a fight. How serious could it be? Master is truly… Twenty strikes! If I strike her properly, how can this little girl survive?

“Um… I’ll strike lightly, but you must endure it. It won’t be too hard to bear,” the male disciple said, comforting Ning Songwu. He then nervously raised the long staff and brought the first strike down.

The strike was honestly not heavy, but when it hit Ning Songwu’s back, it immediately forced a mouthful of clotted blood out of her. Even with a light strike, Ning Songwu was still a ten-year-old child with shallow internal energy. How could she withstand twenty strikes?

The male disciple looked even more troubled seeing Ning Songwu spit out blood.

Just then, the wooden door of the Disciplinary Hall was suddenly pushed open. Lan Ze entered, her face freshly treated for injuries, her eyes narrowed.

“You are… Junior Sister Lan Ze? What are you doing here?” the male disciple asked in confusion. After a moment, he asked, “Perhaps Master canceled Ning Songwu’s punishment? I knew it… Twenty strikes is too much…”

“No. Master told me to come here to supervise the completion of the twenty strikes,” Lan Ze glared viciously at Ning Songwu, her hand touching her injured nose. “Master said to strike hard. Otherwise, she won’t learn her lesson.”

“Ah?” The male disciple frowned, scratching his head with the wooden staff. “But… this is…”

“Why aren’t you striking? Master personally issued the order. Do you dare disobey?” Lan Ze shouted.

Ning Songwu seemed to be cut off from all outside information, only staring blankly at the ground in a daze.

Lan Ze saw that the male disciple still couldn’t bring himself to strike. She stepped forward, snatched the wooden staff, turned, and poured all her internal energy into the strike, bringing it down fiercely onto Ning Songwu’s back!

Lan Ze came from a famous martial arts family and had a solid, not shallow, foundation in martial arts from a young age. The force of her strike, infused with her full internal energy, far exceeded the normal strike the disciple had given moments ago.

“Ugh!” Ning Songwu gave a muffled groan, her eyebrows squeezed together in pain. She felt as if her internal organs were about to burst. An incredibly painful burning sensation erupted on her back. The rough wooden staff tore through her clothing and left a terrifying bloody mark on her tender skin. Ning Songwu’s fingers tightly gripped the edge of the wooden bench, almost embedding themselves in the wood.

Lan Ze paid no attention to Ning Songwu’s condition and left her no time to catch her breath. The second strike whistled down immediately.

This time, it landed on Ning Songwu’s buttocks.

Ning Songwu’s fingers gripping the wooden bench were already bleeding.

Lan Ze wildly struck the wooden staff fiercely against Ning Songwu’s body—her back, arms, thighs, leaving wounds everywhere. As she struck, she shouted, “Little bastard! Little bastard! How dare you strike me?! Why aren’t you crying out, huh?! Stop pretending! Go and die! Go and die!!”

Ning Songwu was bleeding all over. Blood flowed down from several wounds, forming thin lines that dripped onto the ground. The floor was covered in appalling small puddles of blood, a shocking sight.

Ning Songwu vomited a lot of blood. The entire length of the long bench was stained red with her blood. She struggled to maintain a shred of clarity, straining to look at the ground and find something to focus on. Now, she didn’t even need to hold back. She was utterly exhausted and lacked the strength to cry out in pain.

“Master… Master…” Ning Songwu suddenly began to murmur softly. The moment these two words left her mouth, the tears she had suppressed for so long finally burst from her eyes, dripping onto the ground and mixing with her blood.

“You’re still thinking about the Honored Lord? Hahaha, how ridiculous! The Honored Lord left the mountain half a month ago! She doesn’t care about you anymore!”

Wha… what?

Master… left?

Master… left… half a month ago…?

Why… why didn’t she tell me…? Why…?

Doesn’t Master know… I’ve been waiting for her in the Hongfei Pavilion…?

Why…? Was I… not a good girl…?

Ning Songwu could only see a field of red. Unable to focus on anything clear, her vision went black, and she passed out.

The male disciple stopped Lan Ze and shouted, “Stop! You’ll kill her! She’s going to die!”

“What does it matter if she dies? She’s just a worthless life! There are thousands upon thousands of others when she’s gone! She’s nothing! Bah!” Lan Ze threw down the wooden staff and left, flicking her sleeve.

The male disciple quickly and carefully picked up the unconscious Ning Songwu and ran toward the main hall.