Collecting Disciples for a Hundred Years [Transmigration] - Chapter 15

Early the next morning, as usual before setting out, Song Junyu knocked on Ji Chan’s door.

This had become her habit over the years. Ever since the first time she emerged from seclusion to find Ji Chan upset over her broken promise, Song Junyu had made it a point to inform Ji Chan before every long journey or retreat.

But this time, despite several knocks, the door remained closed.

“Xiao Chan?”

Song Junyu lowered her gaze, recalling Ji Chan’s pale complexion from the day before. Her heart skipped a beat, and she pushed the door open herself. Ji Chan was always diligent and an early riser—this had never happened before.

Just as Song Junyu had feared, something was wrong with Ji Chan.

After a night’s rest, Ji Chan’s face looked not only unimproved but even paler. Her small, delicate face was half-hidden beneath the quilt, her eyes glistening with moisture, evoking an overwhelming sense of pity.

Startled, Song Junyu channeled another stream of spiritual energy into Ji Chan’s body. Strangely, there still seemed to be nothing physically wrong.

Ji Chan’s unique constitution, lacking the usual spiritual apertures, naturally consumed more spiritual energy than others. Under normal circumstances, Song Junyu could gather her energy to perform a full-body diagnostic, but there simply wasn’t time now.

“Xiao Chan, how about I take you to Lijia Village? Li Xuan should be able to take good care of you.”

Song Junyu hesitated before speaking softly.

Elder Wan held a bias against Ji Chan and was busy looking after Ji Yang. Leaving an ill Ji Chan at Qing Ping Sect worried Song Junyu. She doubted Elder Wan would provide proper care.

To her surprise, the usually obedient Ji Chan shook her head.

Ji Chan lowered her eyes, then reached out from under the quilt. Her slender, pale fingers grasped Song Junyu’s sleeve. Lifting her gaze, she fixed her eyes on Song Junyu—silent yet stubborn.

Though Ji Chan’s expression remained neutral, her pallor made Song Junyu perceive a plea in her eyes.

Could it be…

“Xiao Chan, are you… reluctant to see me go? Do you want to come with me?”

Song Junyu ventured the question.

Meeting Song Junyu’s widened eyes, Ji Chan nodded.

–

Song Junyu’s initial instinct was to refuse.

But Ji Chan seemed to sense her thoughts. Before she could voice her refusal, Ji Chan clutched the hem of her robe again, giving it a slight tug.

Facing Ji Chan’s clear, dark eyes and watching those delicate fingers gripping her clothes, Song Junyu pressed her lips together, unable to bring herself to push Ji Chan’s hand away.

The pitiful, pleading look in Ji Chan’s eyes was just too heartbreaking!

Song Junyu hadn’t expected Ji Chan to become so clingy when ill.

But on second thought, it wasn’t so strange.

Ji Chan had always been more delicate than most girls. When ordinary girls fell ill, they naturally wished for their loved ones to stay by their side. Since Ji Chan had only recently joined the sect, it was understandable that she’d be a bit needy.

Besides, bringing Ji Chan along did have its advantages: in her current state, Ji Chan was too worrisome to leave behind. Taking her would make it easier to tend to her health along the way.

Though the journey might be strenuous, the flying boat she had given Ji Chan earlier could still be used. Ji Chan could rest inside it, and at most, Song Junyu would expend a bit more spiritual energy to operate it.

With these thoughts in mind, and faced with her disciple’s watery, beseeching eyes—a rare display of complete dependence—Song Junyu found herself utterly defeated—

“I’ll pack a few things, then we’ll set off together!”

Clearly, Ji Chan hadn’t expected her to agree so readily, and her gaze froze for a moment. Song Junyu’s affection for her reached its peak in that instant, and she couldn’t resist giving Ji Chan’s delicate, soft cheek a gentle pinch. Before Ji Chan could react, Song Junyu released her and summoned the flying vessel.

“It’s alright. I know you can’t bear to be apart from your master. This trip is the perfect opportunity for me to take you out to relax.”

Without another glance at Ji Chan, Song Junyu brought out the flying vessel, reinforced its formation, arranged the cabin, and prepared some soft bedding so Ji Chan could lie down comfortably. Then, she turned and carried Ji Chan into the cabin.

The young girl seemed a bit shy, pushing Song Junyu’s hand away as if insisting on walking by herself. But before Ji Chan could react, Song Junyu scooped her up into her arms.

“Little Chan, you’re still young. As your master, I’m your elder. You can rely on me anytime.”

Afraid the girl might feel too awkward, Song Junyu spoke softly to reassure her.

Ji Chan, however, clearly wasn’t listening. Her ears flushed bright red, and she tightly shut her eyes.

Seeing Ji Chan like this, with a bit more color in her cheeks, Song Junyu felt slightly relieved. She carried Ji Chan into the cabin and handed over her Qiankun pouch.

“In my Qiankun pouch, there are some… ahem, some snacks. If you get hungry, you can have a bite or take out the memory stone to listen to some tunes.”

Song Junyu stood at the helm of the vessel, quickly catching herself before she could finish her sentence, and breathed an inward sigh of relief.

When it came to wild imaginations, the ancients truly had no equal. Especially in this era of chaotic order, unlike modern novels with their various restrictions, the unfettered creativity of the ancients was truly astounding.

Those miscellaneous storybooks of hers were hardly suitable for a young girl like Ji Chan.

“If you feel unwell in any way, be sure to make a sound.”

Noticing that Ji Chan kept her eyes lowered, the blush on her face still vividly apparent, Song Junyu didn’t expect a response. She simply took her seat at the helm where the spirit stones were positioned, channeled her spiritual power, and set the flying vessel in motion.

If she were traveling alone by sword flight, Song Junyu would have used far less spiritual power. But now, she had to maximize the vessel’s speed without letting it capsize from excessive velocity, all while conserving spiritual energy. For someone like Song Junyu, who was just experimenting with this method, it still posed some difficulty.

Fortunately, thanks to her unconventional methods of artifact refinement in the past, Song Junyu had developed extraordinary control over her spiritual power, allowing her to steer the vessel with relative ease.

Even so, Song Junyu poured all her focus into piloting the flying vessel.

For a while, the surroundings fell into deep silence.

Feeling the wind howling past the cabin on both sides of the vessel, Ji Chan quietly opened her eyes.

The warmth from earlier seemed to linger on her face, stirring a mix of embarrassment and frustration. Ji Chan had never imagined that Song Junyu would simply pick her up like that.

Yet what surprised her even more was that she had initially thought it would take considerable effort to persuade Song Junyu to go out with her—even fearing that Song Junyu might get angry and scold her for being unreasonable. She never expected Song Junyu to agree so effortlessly.

Song Junyu’s words, “You can rely on me anytime,” echoed incessantly in her ears, making Ji Chan’s recently cooled ears feel warm all over again.

A strange sensation, both tender and aching, welled up in her heart. Ji Chan couldn’t help but glance at Song Junyu’s back at the helm: the woman, usually so languid, now stood straight as a sword, as if she were a mountain capable of shielding Ji Chan from all storms.

But Ji Chan snapped back to her senses a moment later.

If her identity were exposed, Song Junyu, at the late Foundation Establishment stage, would have no ability to stand against the entire cultivation world.

She didn’t want to implicate Song Junyu.

A sense of urgency to improve her strength surged within her once more, and Ji Chan couldn’t resist sneaking into Song Junyu’s Qiankun bag.

If she remembered correctly, Song Junyu had taken quite a few books from the hidden shelves of the library and stored them in her Qiankun bag.

Perhaps, as Song Junyu had said, those books weren’t suitable for her to read just yet, but she still wanted to give them a try. After all, improving her strength was a pressing matter.

Ji Chan rummaged through the Qiankun bag and pulled out a worn-looking booklet with the cover titled “Medical Canon.”

She had a photographic memory and recalled that when she first started learning the sword, Song Junyu would often read this “Medical Canon” by her side, seemingly studying it for a long time.

It must be an extremely difficult and profound secret manual, she thought.

Taking a deep breath, Ji Chan focused her attention. Seeing that Song Junyu hadn’t noticed her actions, she lowered her head and began to read the booklet quickly.

The more she read, the more her brows furrowed.

This wasn’t a medical secret manual as she had assumed, but a story.

It told of a farm girl who adopted a fox, nursing it back to health with good food and care. That very night, however, the fox transformed into human form and slipped into the farm girl’s bed.

Ji Chan stared at the vivid illustrations that appeared later in the book, then abruptly snapped it shut, her cheeks flushing bright red once again.

Now she finally understood what Song Junyu had meant by “this row of books isn’t for you to read right now”!

This… unreliable woman!

Ji Chan gritted her teeth in frustration, feeling deeply annoyed by her earlier thoughts: How blind she had been to think Song Junyu was dependable!

Could it be that all the booklets in Song Junyu’s Qiankun bag were like this?

Refusing to believe it, Ji Chan pulled out another booklet. This time, she had learned her lesson and decided to peek under the cover first.

And so, she discovered booklets with seemingly proper titles, such as “Stories Between Consorts,” “Daily Life of Being Pushed Down by the Neighbor’s Younger Sister,” and “Why Is Sister-in-Law So Enchanting?” hidden beneath the covers.

Ji Chan felt her eyes burn, desperately wishing she could forget what she’d seen. But her memory was too sharp; even after just one glance, those images seemed permanently etched into her mind.

Finally, Ji Chan managed to find a book that looked somewhat normal, titled “The Mirror Polishing Canon.”

This book appeared untouched by Song Junyu, as it didn’t have a cover sleeve.

Ji Chan opened the book and skimmed through it, discovering that it detailed certain cultivation methods practiced among women of the Hehuan Sect. There were no melodramatic or gossipy plots, which was probably why Song Junyu hadn’t been interested in it. She likely hadn’t even read this one.

Just as Ji Chan was about to put the book down, she noticed a few lines of hastily scribbled text on one of the last pages. The handwriting was messy, clearly written by someone in an unsettled state of mind, yet it looked strangely familiar to Ji Chan.

“Song Junyu! Why can’t you forget Song Ge and think only of me?”

This resentful remark immediately reminded Ji Chan of the rumors about Second Senior Sister Du Shuang, who was always competing with Eldest Senior Sister Song Ge and was eventually struck dead by heavenly lightning after failing to advance her cultivation.

No wonder Du Shuang had been struck by heavenly lightning. With such words written in the back of this book, her intentions were glaringly obvious.

Du Shuang actually dared to harbor such rebellious thoughts against her master!

Thankfully she was struck dead by heavenly lightning—otherwise, wouldn’t I have ended up with a new mistress?

The thought of Song Junyu constantly accompanied by someone else—someone who would make this carefree, smiling woman lie whimpering and crying like the women in those booklets—stirred an inexplicable irritation in Ji Chan’s heart.

Pursing her lips, she tore off the page with writing on it expressionlessly, secretly shredding it into pieces and scattering them into the air. Narrowing her eyes slightly, she thought—

Whether you were Du Shuang or Song Ge, you are now nothing but the dead.

The Song Junyu of today is my master, Ji Chan’s, and mine alone!