After the Demon Lord was Reborn, She Switched to a Master-Disciple Romance Script - Chapter 35

“It doesn’t matter,” the System said. “Even if someone like him is exceptionally talented, he’ll eventually have to make way for the protagonist.”

Hearing the System’s words, Zhu Jiyun couldn’t suppress the surge of murderous intent rising within her.

Make way?

Does Ji Chengyu even deserve that?

Furious, she mentally tore both the System and Ji Chengyu to shreds.

She moved her lips and said calmly, “Ah, I see.”

The System, hearing her flat, emotionless reply, paused to consider it, feeling a twinge of disappointment.

Did I fail to ignite her fighting spirit?

No matter. Everything’s progressing in the right direction now.

The System encouraged, “So, Host, you must work hard!”

Zhu Jiyun replied calmly, “Mm, I will work hard.”

The System felt a flicker of relief.

When Zhu Jiyun returned to Forgotten Solitude Peak, she found her Master seemed to have been waiting for her.

Seeing her Master, much of the suppressed malice in her heart instantly dissipated.

Xun Juexue glanced at her and remarked, “You’ve been running around outside quite often lately.”

Compared to the previous months when Zhu Jiyun showed no interest in leaving the mountain, her little disciple had been venturing out with remarkable frequency in recent days.

It’s because I’m trying to exploit the System’s loopholes, Zhu Jiyun explained to herself internally.

Of course, she couldn’t say that to her Master.

Instead, she smiled apologetically and asked, “Master, were you waiting here for me? Is there something you need?”

Xun Juexue had simply stated a fact. Noticing Zhu Jiyun’s evasion, she didn’t press the matter. Instead, she asked, “Where did you get the Primordial Return Pill you gave me earlier?”

Zhu Jiyun froze.

Looking at her Master’s calm expression, her eyes lit up. “Master, does the Primordial Return Pill help with the injury caused by the Malignant Qi?”

Her eyes seemed even more excited than Xun Juexue’s, the one actually suffering from the injury.

Xun Juexue nodded. “It does.”

It was precisely because the pill worked that she needed to know where her disciple had obtained it. After all, none of the other rare Spirit Medicines she had tried had been particularly effective.

Zhu Jiyun couldn’t suppress her joy.

The Primordial Return Pill had worked on that Evil Cultivator corrupted by Malignant Qi, but Zhu Jiyun couldn’t be completely certain it would work on her Master.

After all, no matter how precious or effective a Medicinal Pill might be, whenever it was for her Master, Zhu Jiyun couldn’t help but harbor a sliver of worry.

What if it doesn’t work?

But now that she had heard her Master say it could work, she thought of the Primordial Return Pill she had just obtained from her Cosmic Pouch and felt that the System might actually be useful after all.

After her initial joy subsided, she remembered to answer her Master’s earlier question.

Where did you get the Primordial Return Pill?

Her Master was wise and experienced. If she tried to lie, she would surely be found out.

So, frowning slightly, she blurted out the whole story: “I said earlier that I got it by accident, and I really wasn’t lying, Master. When I was in the Human Realm, I helped an old woman up and gave her a bowl of rice. She gave me something in return. When I looked at it, it was a pitch-black clam, looking as dead as could be. I didn’t think much of it and just tossed it into my Cosmic Pouch.”

“But a few days later, when I was looking for something, I accidentally took the clam out. To my surprise, it had opened, revealing two Medicinal Pills inside. That’s when I named them Primordial Return Pills.” Zhu Jiyun paused, a hint of wonder in her eyes. “But don’t clams usually produce pearls? How could there be Medicinal Pills inside?”

With a sigh, Zhu Jiyun continued her tall tale, “But the Primordial Return Pill looked so rare, I gave one to someone to try. It really healed their wounds, not some useless thing, so I carefully kept the other one.”

After speaking so much at once, Zhu Jiyun’s throat felt dry.

She coughed lightly a couple of times. Seeing a teacup on the table, she assumed her Master had poured it for her and, without thinking, picked it up and drained it in one gulp.

Xun Juexue watched her disciple swallow the tea she had just sipped, leaving the cup completely empty.

A damp ring marked the rim of the teacup.

Her heart fluttered slightly.

The wet ring seemed to perfectly overlap her earlier mark.

Zhu Jiyun set down the teacup. Noticing her Master staring at her as if she wanted to say something, she paused and couldn’t help but ask, “What’s wrong?”

Had she gone too far with her story?

But she had researched it. Tales of suddenly encountering mysterious figures and obtaining inheritances or treasures did exist, though they were rare.

Xun Juexue’s usually cold eyes seemed conflicted as she looked at Zhu Jiyun, hesitating to speak.

Finally, her gaze settled on Zhu Jiyun’s pink lips, now glistening with moisture. She lowered her eyes, shook her head, and said nothing.

“I see,” she said, her voice slightly strained. “Is that clam still around?”

Zhu Jiyun had been waiting for this question. “Yes, it is.”

She retrieved a pitch-black clam from her Cosmic Pouch. The shell was tightly sealed, leaving no visible gap.

Xun Juexue took the clam. Its surface was cool to the touch, and the shell remained firmly shut, revealing nothing. It looked like an ordinary, lifeless clam.

Since Zhu Jiyun had said the Primordial Return Pill came from this clam, Xun Juexue refrained from forcing it open with her Spiritual Power, despite seeing nothing unusual.

After examining it for a while without finding anything, she recalled that the Great Thousand Worlds held countless Secret Treasures and wondrous phenomena. She handed the lifeless Black Clam back to Zhu Jiyun.

“Since this is your opportunity, take good care of it,” Xun Juexue instructed.

She had no reason to doubt her disciple’s words.

Zhu Jiyun returned the Black Clam to her Cosmic Pouch.

She couldn’t resist asking again, “So the Malignant Qi is gone?”

Xun Juexue’s icy gaze seemed to avoid hers. “Give it two more days.”

“That’s wonderful!”

Zhu Jiyun couldn’t hide her joy. With her Master so close, she impulsively threw her arms around Xun Juexue’s waist, her happiness overflowing.

The intimate touch was fleeting. Xun Juexue didn’t even have time to scold her disciple for breaking the rules before Zhu Jiyun had already let go.

Xun Juexue’s beautiful face showed no anger, but her voice was stern. “Ji Yun, don’t touch me so casually.”

“Huh?” Zhu Jiyun tilted her flawless face, her expression puzzled. “Was that really touching you casually?”

“Yes,” Xun Juexue said firmly. “No disciple should act so improperly toward their master.”

The curve of Zhu Jiyun’s lips drooped.

She was right. No disciple in this world would ever treat their master like that.

After all, the Master-Disciple relationship in the Cultivation World was purely that: Master and Disciple. Respecting one’s master and honoring their teachings was simply the natural order.

The original novel’s portrayal of Master-Disciple relationships in cultivation differed greatly from other stories where such romances were commonplace and accepted.

In this world, you couldn’t find a single example of a Master-Disciple romance.

Such a relationship was considered a taboo, a forbidden boundary.

A master was like a parent. “Once a master, always a parent” was the saying. Almost no one would ever consider being with their master or disciple.

******

In this world, a Master-Disciple relationship was a forbidden love.

Zhu Jiyun hadn’t initially given it much thought.

After all, she had lived in this world for over two centuries. Sometimes she would think, Yes, who would ever want to be with their Master?

It would be disrespectful, sacrilegious, unforgivable.

But Zhu Jiyun wasn’t solely a person of this world.

Therefore, she wasn’t a staunch supporter or follower of such beliefs.

When she realized that caressing her Master’s skin stirred unusual, even inappropriate thoughts within her, she understood.

She harbored desire for her Master.

Zhu Jiyun’s gaze deepened.

Xun Juexue noticed her disciple’s earlier cheerfulness vanish, replaced by a sullen expression. She hesitated.

Zhu Jiyun spoke, her low voice sounding dejected, “Yes, Master. I understand. I won’t do it again.”

Her obedient demeanor, even in her unhappiness, made Xun Juexue question herself.

Did she need to be so cold toward her disciple?

After all, Zhu Jiyun was her only disciple.

Xun Juexue’s gaze softened slightly, a hint of tenderness flickering in her eyes as she said calmly, “I’m not blaming you, Ji Yun. It’s just… this isn’t appropriate.”

But her usually obedient disciple suddenly became uncharacteristically stubborn.

Zhu Jiyun tilted her chin, her eyes blazing with defiance. “How is it inappropriate?” she demanded sharply. “Who decides what’s appropriate? Is it wrong to be close to Master?”

Xun Juexue fell silent, momentarily stunned that her disciple hadn’t simply agreed. Her eyes widened slightly.

“Look,” she said instinctively, “what kind of disciple hugs and clings to their master like this?”

Zhu Jiyun replied coolly, “There’s only one Xun Juexue in the world, and only one Zhu Jiyun.”

Xun Juexue froze completely.

This was the first time she had heard her own name spoken by her disciple.

Ever since her master’s passing, she had been addressed as Immortal Venerable Qingwu for so long that no one in the world ever called her “Xun Juexue” anymore.

Even her close friend Ning Huaizhu only ever called her “Senior Sister.”

Now, to suddenly hear her own name spoken by her disciple, who should never directly address her master by name, stirred a strange feeling in Xun Juexue’s heart. She quickly suppressed the emotion, realizing what her disciple meant.

She actually found some truth in what her disciple said?

A flicker of confusion crossed Xun Juexue’s clear eyes.

Zhu Jiyun noticed it, and her calm voice rang out again. “Of course, if Master dislikes it, I will never do it again.”

Nowhere in the world did it say a disciple couldn’t hug their master’s waist, without any romantic intent, when happy or sad.

Just as no law explicitly forbade Master-Disciple relationships.

But the absence of a rule didn’t make it normal in this world.

It was simply because no one had ever started such a thing. The idea hadn’t even entered people’s minds.

Yet without a beginning, how could anyone define what was right or wrong?

Zhu Jiyun’s eyes were like pools of ink, dark and fathomless. When she stared at someone, it felt as if she could pull them into her bottomless gaze.

Master, even if you don’t understand the meaning behind this, it doesn’t matter.

Because if you dislike me touching you like this, I will never cross that line again.

So, what are your true feelings?

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