After the Demon Lord was Reborn, She Switched to a Master-Disciple Romance Script - Chapter 21.1

In this life, Zhu Jiyun had always been one to act on her impulses.

The thought of soaking in a hot spring had flashed through her mind during sword practice that afternoon, and by evening, she was already putting the plan into motion.

Besides, she had asked her Master earlier that day if there were any places on Forgotten Solitude Peak she was forbidden from going.

Her Master had simply replied that as her disciple, there was nowhere she couldn’t go.

A small hot spring like this was naturally no exception.

With that in mind, Zhu Jiyun stretched her arms, which felt slightly sore from the day’s strenuous training, turned, and went inside to gather a change of clothes for after her soak, along with other essentials. Then, following the path she remembered, she headed out.

The nights on Forgotten Solitude Peak were always remarkably still. As she moved farther from the Hall of Unforgettable Solitude, the silence deepened. The only light came from the pale moon hanging high in the sky, its cool moonlight illuminating the path beneath her feet.

The hot spring water reflected the moonlight, its surface shimmering with gentle ripples.

Though she knew she was alone, Zhu Jiyun still scanned the surroundings before raising her hand to cast a small barrier around the spring.

No one was around. The silence was absolute.

Zhu Jiyun’s spirit involuntarily relaxed.

She took off her outer robe, leaving only a thin gauze garment designed for soaking in hot springs. Then she stepped into the water.

The moment her skin touched the warm water, Zhu Jiyun couldn’t help but sigh in contentment.

So good.

It feels so good.

******

The relaxation of her body always brought a sense of mental ease. She thought about how Forgotten Solitude Peak was usually occupied only by her Master, with few visitors. Although her Master no longer needed sleep at her cultivation level, Zhu Jiyun had noticed she always returned to her chambers at a certain hour each night, rarely venturing out after dark. Tonight, the entire place belonged to her alone.

Her guard lowered slightly, Zhu Jiyun leaned back against the pool’s edge, her eyes slowly closing.

I’ve observed your sword techniques. Why does your sword intent feel stagnant, as if it hasn’t been practiced in a long time?

The question flashed through her mind, and Zhu Jiyun’s eyelashes fluttered.

But she kept her eyes closed, savoring the night’s hot spring water and the profound silence.

How long had passed? Long enough that Zhu Jiyun was nearly drifting off in the soothing, weightless water when she suddenly heard the faintest footsteps.

Her eyes snapped open, her gaze darting toward the sound.

The coldness and malice in Zhu Jiyun’s eyes vanished as she stared in shock at the newcomer. “Master?”

It wasn’t some stray animal or petty thief who had made the sound, but her own Master, Xun Juexue, whose daily routine was as regular as clockwork and who never ventured out at night.

At the sound of her name, Xun Juexue froze in her tracks.

When she finally took in the scene at the hot spring, she was rooted to the spot, unable to move.

Xun Juexue had found it difficult to meditate that night. Besides it being her first day teaching her disciple, she couldn’t shake the memory of Zhu Jiyun’s reaction to her question earlier that day.

Though there was no concrete evidence to suggest anything was amiss, Xun Juexue still felt a nagging sense of unease.

Yet, upon further reflection, she dismissed it as her own recent tendency to overthink and worry.

Unable to quiet her mind through meditation, and noticing the bright moonlight, she decided to take a walk. Before she knew it, she had wandered to the hot spring.

There, she saw her disciple soaking in the water.

She hadn’t even noticed when she had broken through Zhu Jiyun’s barrier.

“Mm.”

Xun Juexue’s gaze swept over Zhu Jiyun’s bare shoulders before she snapped back to attention and responded to her disciple’s call.

“The night air is cool,” Xun Juexue said, her voice steady. “You’ve been here too long. Be careful not to catch a cold.”

Seeing her Master, Zhu Jiyun immediately relaxed her guard. She scooped up a handful of water with a playful grin and tossed it into the air. Sparkling droplets scattered across the surface, creating ripples. “Master,” she said, “the spring water here is warm. It’s not cold at all. In fact, it’s quite pleasant and soothing.”

Xun Juexue’s gaze flickered almost imperceptibly back to the water’s surface.

Silver moonlight streamed down, illuminating the shimmering water. Gentle ripples stirred across the surface, reflecting the ethereal glow. Zhu Jiyun’s skin was alluringly pale as she tilted her head back, her delicate face, as pure as a lotus blossom, framed by a radiant smile. She looked like a bewitching water spirit bathed in moonlight.

Xun Juexue’s eyes froze abruptly as she realized what she was thinking.

A shadow of unease settled in her heart, but she swiftly brushed aside the inappropriate thoughts. Her gaze cleared once more.

“Even so,” Xun Juexue said, “you shouldn’t stay in the water too long at night. If you enjoy this place, you can come back during the day when it’s more suitable.”

Zhu Jiyun watched her Master stand with her hands clasped behind her back, her robes fluttering in the breeze. Though her voice remained even, her concern was unmistakable. Zhu Jiyun’s eyes crinkled into a smile. “Yes, Master!”

Xun Juexue had been concerned about Zhu Jiyun’s health since she first appeared. Her voice was calm, her gaze clear. Zhu Jiyun didn’t think much of it at the time, simply following her Master’s instructions and rising to retrieve her change of clothes.

But as soon as she stood, the water trickled down, and the thin, wet gauze clung to her delicate figure, revealing and concealing in equal measure. The night breeze even lent her an air of fragile vulnerability, as if she desperately needed someone to hold her close.

Of course, Zhu Jiyun had no idea how much she resembled a white lotus blooming in the water.

Xun Juexue only glanced at her briefly before turning away. But her eyes were sharp, her memory keen. That single glance was enough to capture the scene perfectly, etching it into her mind.

After dressing and fastening her belt, Zhu Jiyun finally realized her Master must have seen her when she stood up.

Her hand froze mid-stroke as she brushed her hair aside, belatedly feeling a twinge of embarrassment.

Compared to the bikinis she used to wear at the beach back in modern times, this was nothing. But the circumstances were different now. In this setting, appearing like that in front of her Master was akin to being naked.

Even though her Master was a woman and her senior, Zhu Jiyun couldn’t help but feel a flutter of unease, knowing her own attraction to women.

But when she saw her Master’s serene expression and the usual clarity in her eyes, she realized she had been overthinking things.

She quickly brushed aside those unnecessary worries, picked up her clothes from the pile of grass, and approached her Master. “Master, is something troubling you?” she asked curiously.

For someone with such a strict routine to abandon meditation and rest in the middle of the night, wandering alone to such a remote place, it hardly seemed like a simple stroll to admire the moon.

Xun Juexue glanced at her. “Nothing of the sort.”

Zhu Jiyun secretly pursed her lips, out of sight.

But if her Master wouldn’t share, a good disciple shouldn’t pry.

So Zhu Jiyun swiftly changed the subject. “Master, I remember when we first met. You weren’t as thin as you are now. Before the Outer Sect Grand Competition, every time I saw you, your complexion seemed paler than the last. I know you’re burdened with the weighty affairs of the world, but as your disciple, though I lack great talent, I still want to help lighten your load.”

The two were walking side by side under the moonlight, heading back. When Xun Juexue heard Zhu Jiyun’s undisguised concern, her heart stirred.

She remembered once again the words her Junior Sister had said when urging her to take a disciple.

Having a disciple truly felt different.

She was both touched by her little disciple’s thoughtfulness and comforted by her care.

Therefore, Xun Juexue didn’t hide anything. After all, as Zhu Jiyun’s master, she would eventually need to know.

“Do you know about Kangtuo?” Xun Juexue asked.

“Kangtuo?” Zhu Jiyun repeated.

The corners of her lips immediately turned downward. How could she not know the place where she had died?

But it was clear that the Kangtuo her master was referring to had nothing to do with her.

“Yes, Kangtuo,” Xun Juexue confirmed. “Years ago, Wu Hongye recklessly slaughtered living beings. I and the seniors of the Immortal Sect cornered him in the desolate lands of Kangtuo. After a fierce battle, Wu Hongye finally fell by my hand in the final clash.”

“I know that story!” Zhu Jiyun exclaimed. “Master is revered throughout the Six Realms because of it! Countless people in the Six Realms yearn to become your disciple!”

Though her words praised her master, the high tilt of her lips betrayed her pride in her current status.

Xun Juexue glanced at her but said nothing to calm her down or dampen her spirits with words of caution against pride and impatience. After all, Zhu Jiyun’s joy stemmed from her admiration for her Master, not from any rejection of her. How could she not be pleased?

Zhu Jiyun continued, “But that great demon Wu Hongye is already dead. Is Master now troubled by Kangtuo?”

Xun Juexue replied, “Since the great battle that ended Wu Hongye’s life, Kangtuo has been shrouded in Malignant Qi. Any ordinary creature that steps within will have its Spirit Body corrupted by the Qi and die within moments. Yet recently, the eldest disciple under your Sect Leader Martial Aunt discovered hundreds of corpses on Kangtuo’s border, drained dry by Demonic Qi. I went to investigate, and perhaps my body was affected.”

Xun Juexue spoke calmly, but Zhu Jiyun’s heart was thrown into turmoil.

“Malignant Qi?” she exclaimed in shock. “How could Kangtuo have Malignant Qi?”

Kangtuo’s desolate landscape, devoid of vegetation or any living creature, made it barren of treasures and resources. Reaching it required traversing treacherous mountains and wading through a Red Forest teeming with Demonic Beasts, deterring all visitors and earning it the name “The Land of No Return.”

Zhu Jiyun had never heard of any Malignant Qi within Kangtuo.

Moreover, when she had arrived at Kangtuo in her previous life, just before her death, she had detected no trace of Malignant Qi.

Could it be that when the Malignant Qi first appeared, she was merely an ordinary Outer Sect Disciple, lacking the means to learn of such matters?

But then how had the Malignant Qi dissipated later?

Xun Juexue said calmly, “This matter was known only to a few individuals back then. Over the years, no cultivation disciples have dared to set foot there.”

Zhu Jiyun pondered this, then asked worriedly, “Master, you’ve entered Kangtuo multiple times to investigate the corpses. Has this caused you significant harm?”

If ordinary people died within moments of entering, surely her Master, who had ventured there repeatedly, must have suffered severe damage?

Seeing the young girl’s furrowed brow and genuine concern for her, Xun Juexue’s gaze softened. She raised a hand to gently stroke Zhu Jiyun’s loose, raven-black hair, her voice tinged with warmth, “This Master has reached the Great Ascension stage. I can sustain a Spiritual Power barrier for a considerable time. It’s nothing to worry about.”

Unfortunately, Zhu Jiyun’s mind remained undisturbed by this rare display of affection.

She calmly took her master’s hand, her gaze fixed on that serene, otherworldly face. “But Master, your pale complexion and gaunt frame are proof that this matter is far more serious than you claim.”

Xun Juexue fell silent.

Being refuted by her disciple stirred a strange feeling within her.

Yet the lesson still needed to be taught.

“As the Immortal Venerable,” Xun Juexue said, “I bear this title and must live up to the expectations of all living beings.”

Zhu Jiyun paused, startled.

She stared at her master, who spoke those words with such casual conviction, her eyes momentarily unfocused.

Since the original story had Ji Chengyu becoming the foremost figure in the Six Realms, revered and worshipped as the Immortal Venerable, ultimately ascending to the Immortal Realm and achieving perfect mastery of the Great Dao…

What about Immortal Venerable Qingwu?

The one who purged demons with a single sword, cleansed the Six Realms, and truly deserved the title of the Cultivation World’s foremost figure—Immortal Venerable Qingwu, her master?

Had she achieved perfect mastery of the Great Dao and successfully ascended?

After all, the title of “foremost figure in the Six Realms” could only belong to one person at a time.

But Zhu Jiyun had no way of knowing.

Stories always focused on the protagonists. No matter how brilliant or extraordinary the supporting characters might be, they rarely received the detailed attention they deserved.

What’s more, Zhu Jiyun now suspected that her Master was merely a background character in the novel, appearing only in the early stages before the protagonist entered the Cultivation World.

After all, the novel only mentioned her in a sentence or two, and even then, it was only because Ji Chengyu’s Master was her Master’s Junior Sister.

Meanwhile, Zhu Jiyun, the early-stage villainess, had far more screen time than her Master!

A secret worry flickered through Zhu Jiyun’s heart at this thought.

“Alright,” Zhu Jiyun said, lowering her gaze, a hint of melancholy in her voice. “Master has her own path. As a disciple, I can’t question it. I only hope that while Master is saving the world, she’ll take better care of herself.”

Such a wonderful Master couldn’t just die easily.

A Master who prepares rooms for her disciples, cares about their hunger, and even creates a sword manual just for them is truly a rare find.

Zhu Jiyun had already accepted Immortal Venerable Qingwu as her Master. Though her feelings weren’t particularly deep, she couldn’t bear the thought of losing such a great Master so easily.

Xun Juexue replied, “I will remember your words.”

The crimson mole on her forehead made her resemble a Bodhisattva from modern murals, smiling as she held a willow branch and a pure water bottle. And that was before considering her boundless compassion for all living beings.

Zhu Jiyun stared at her Master’s frost-like hair, which seemed especially prominent in the night. What a Bodhisattva, she murmured to herself.

The Bodhisattva’s clear, cold eyes swept over her again, and Zhu Jiyun felt something being drawn away from her hand. She glanced down and realized it was her Master’s hand.

Huh? Had I been holding her hand for so long?

Xun Juexue’s hand felt slightly warm from her disciple’s touch, making her a little uncomfortable. But seeing Zhu Jiyun seemed lost in thought, she spoke in her crisp, clear voice, “We’ve reached the sleeping quarters. Aren’t you going to rest?”

Zhu Jiyun looked up and realized they had unconsciously walked back to the Hall of Unforgettable Solitude.

At her Master’s words, Zhu Jiyun hugged the clothes, her eyes fixed on her Master’s toes, and muttered, “Wasn’t I just afraid you’d run off?”

With that, she darted into her room and slammed the door shut.

Seriously though, Master’s hand is so cold. It would feel amazing to hold in the summer, Zhu Jiyun thought idly as she leaned against the door.

Outside, Xun Juexue stood alone before her disciple’s door, pondering her words.

She lowered her gaze to her palm. The lingering warmth had already faded, but a faint, unfamiliar, and serene fragrance lingered there, one that did not belong to her.

After a long moment, a faint smile appeared on her jade-like face beneath the bright moonlight.

How fortunate I am to have such a disciple, she thought, filled with joy.

As for that fleeting glimpse beneath the Starmoon Clear Spring, it was nothing but an illusion.

Zhu Jiyun had noticed that the more her Master liked her, the more he wanted her to train harder.

While Zhu Jiyun didn’t mind improving her strength, her current behavior completely contradicted her post-reincarnation plan to be a lazy slacker!

How could I have been so foolish? she wondered. I agreed to extra training just because I didn’t want to see that cold, beautiful face frown!

This was not good!

For the first time, Zhu Jiyun realized she had the potential to become a foolish ruler. If I ever became emperor, that is.

It seems sometimes having a Master who’s too handsome can be a problem, she mused.

Just then, Zhu Jiyun saw her Master emerge from the main hall.

“I’ll have a drink of water and then practice again for Master,” she said.

******

In recent days, she had been diligently training on Forgotten Solitude Peak, practicing breathing exercises and circulating Spiritual Power within her body. She had accumulated a significant amount of Spiritual Power, and she felt on the verge of breaking through to the Heartbeat Stage.

Though Zhu Jiyun had already experienced breaking through to the Heartbeat Stage before, her Master didn’t know that. As a caring and attentive Master, Xun Juexue naturally wanted to closely monitor her disciple’s progress when she learned Zhu Jiyun was about to break through.

Moreover, since Zhu Jiyun had only reached the Foundation Establishment Stage a year ago, her rapid progress to the Heartbeat Stage was exceptionally fast, a talent reserved for the truly gifted. Xun Juexue worried about her disciple’s foundation being unstable and had Zhu Jiyun stay by her side constantly these past few days, making it easier to supervise and guide her disciple’s advancement.

Zhu Jiyun, experiencing this for the first time, was speechless.

It’s okay, she thought. Master is new to this, but I’m not new to being a disciple. I can be understanding. I can even indulge her.

With that thought, Zhu Jiyun completely forgot her earlier grumbling and picked up her sword, ready for her Master’s guidance.

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