Forcing the Aloof Master to Madness - Chapter 1

Shen Lezhi awoke to pain. The sensation of dying had been drawn out, yet it felt as though it lasted only an instant.

She had perished in a landslide and mudslide, completely encased by earth, which stole every breath she needed to survive. In that moment, she had clearly registered death.

Yet, now she felt pain.

Did one still feel pain after death?

Her entire body ached, with an intense burning sensation centered in her chest.

Shen Lezhi made her eyelashes tremble, and with great difficulty, she finally managed to open her eyes.

She looked in confusion at this supposed world beyond death.

What met her gaze was a dark brown, wooden four-poster bed. Shen Lezhi recalled seeing such beds when she was in the countryside; they were said to be heirlooms passed down from ancestors several generations ago. The four posts were topped with intricate, carved openwork patterns, dense and exquisite.

When Shen Lezhi slightly turned her head, on a square wooden table made of tongbai wood not far away, stood a celadon vase holding a spray of creamy-yellow Eustoma (Lisianthus) flowers.

Everything resembled the ancient, picturesque world seen in period dramas. Shen Lezhi narrowed her eyes. If the West had heaven after death, perhaps it made sense for someone Eastern like her to encounter such an antique aesthetic in the afterlife.

There was only one anomaly: the person seated beside the bed.

That individual was clad in white robes, the hem embroidered with gray-blue auspicious clouds. A white jade longsword was fastened at their waist. Shen Lezhi first noticed the carving on the hilt: a golden, coiling azure dragon, its eyes set with blue and white jade gems, rendered so lifelike they seemed real.

Moving her gaze upward, Shen Lezhi finally saw the person’s face.

She snatched her gaze away immediately in a panic. Shen Lezhi had never encountered someone with such an aura. The corners of their eyebrows seemed dusted with frost and snow; their eyes were detached and indifferent, their complexion pale, and their entire presence exuded such a coldness that upon meeting their gaze, one instantly felt shame and dared not look again.

Shen Lezhi’s slight movement was immediately noticed by the other person. That person’s eyes slowly shifted down to rest on Shen Lezhi. Feeling nervous, Shen Lezhi was compelled to lift her eyes and meet the gaze.

“Lezhi, you’re awake? Is there any discomfort anywhere?” The voice also carried a chill, but the intonation contained a shade of concern, which somewhat eased Shen Lezhi’s tension.

“It hurts…” Shen Lezhi murmured instinctively. She truly was in too much pain; the burning in her chest seemed to intensify. She was accustomed to enduring suffering, but the current pain felt more violent than death itself.

“It will hurt; you just used the medicinal guide. You are not accustomed to it.” The woman beside the couch stood up. Shen Lezhi, who had been stealthily glancing at her, noticed that as she rose, her posture was upright, but her complexion seemed to have turned even paler—as if suffering from some internal injury.

Shen Lezhi pressed her lips tightly together. She had assumed she was in the afterlife, but as the pain grew more severe, she slowly realized that might not be the case. What medicinal guide?

Unable to grasp the situation, Shen Lezhi decided to feign complete memory loss, asking in a dazed manner, “Where is this?”

She asked cautiously, watching the person before her intently, remaining entirely steeped in timidity. Although the person before her was elegant and beautiful, Shen Lezhi felt an immense sense of danger emanating from them. The azure dragon sword at their waist exuded an aura colder than its owner; confined within its scabbard, it could not merely be an ornament.

Shen Lezhi saw the other person suddenly freeze upon hearing her question. The cold, beautiful eyes flickered, finally settling slowly back upon her. Shen Lezhi grew even more tense.

She pursed her lips tightly, feeling flustered and lost.

The person then bent down, leaning close to her, and placed two fingers on her brow. The coldness of the fingertips, like the depth of those eyes, made Shen Lezhi flinch instinctively. However, Shen Lezhi dared not pull away, possessing the sudden intuition that if she dodged now, she might lose her life the next second.

She watched the person before her without any defense, filled with apprehension, yet she could discern nothing from that pale, emotionless face. She was completely unaware that the touch on her brow was the other person invading her Spiritual Awareness/Sea of Consciousness (靈堂, though contextually this is likely Linghai or Spiritual Sea, not a memorial hall), and that any resistance would immediately arouse suspicion.

Fortunately, Shen Lezhi knew nothing of this then; the invasion only made her body feel slightly numb, a sensation quickly overshadowed by the pain.

“It is likely a side effect of the Exquisite Heart,” the woman retracted her fingers, lowering her gaze, and said, “I am your Master.”

Upon hearing this, Shen Lezhi’s eyes snapped wide open.

She recalled a novel—because the female lead shared her exact name, it left a profound impression. Although she had never read it, a colleague had been obsessed with it for a time. It was a Yuri Cultivation novel, and that colleague recounted the story to her daily. The villainous Master of the female lead possessed a divine sword carved with an azure dragon. What was that Master’s name again?

“Jiyue Immortal Venerable, Wang Xi (霁月仙尊, 望汐),” Shen Lezhi blurted out unconsciously.

Wang Xi, hearing her name spoken, swept a glance over her. “Hmm? It seems you remember some things?”

Hearing Wang Xi’s reply, Shen Lezhi quickly shook her head, wearily closing her eyes, reluctant to face reality.

Shen Lezhi knew the rough outline of that novel: the female lead disciple, sharing her name, was sickly from childhood and not expected to live past adulthood. However, the disciple’s Master, Wang Xi, possessed a Heavenly Treasure: the Exquisite Heart. To save her, Wang Xi cut out half of it to serve as a medicinal guide, just managing to preserve the disciple’s life.

But the disciple, though outwardly obedient, was actually ruthless. Half an Exquisite Heart could save her life, but it could not grant her any significant cultivation achievements; after a hundred years, she would still perish into dust. Thus, the female lead plotted against her benefactor, forcing her Master into demonic cultivation and inflicting grievous wounds upon her, all to seize the remaining half of the Exquisite Heart. In the end, however, after a long struggle with her maddened Master, the novel concluded with the Master using a mutually destructive method to gouge out the disciple’s heart, dying alongside her.

Shen Lezhi’s colleague had heavily condemned the female lead at the time. The scene where the disciple’s heart was ripped out by her Master in the final ending was revered by the colleague as a classic, recounted to Shen Lezhi numerous times. This is why Shen Lezhi remembered it so clearly—it almost gave her Heart-Gouging PTSD.

Therefore, since Wang Xi had just said she had taken the medicinal guide, did that mean…?

Shen Lezhi found it hard to accept. The burning in her chest felt as though it would pierce her skin. She uncontrollably clenched her fingers. Perhaps because her mind resisted so fiercely, the searing heat in her chest reached a level she could not tolerate. Her body became scorching hot, and before long, she fainted again.

Seeing Shen Lezhi pass out from the pain, Wang Xi could only return to the edge of the couch, place her hand on Shen Lezhi’s wrist, and slowly channel spiritual energy to soothe her meridians, allowing the medicinal guide to fuse faster with Shen Lezhi and alleviate her suffering. However, her face grew even paler, and a wave of coppery sweetness rose in her throat. Giving away half the Exquisite Heart had already weakened her significantly, dropping her cultivation from the late Void Return stage to the Separation stage overnight. Yet, she had not rested for a moment, remaining by her young disciple’s bedside, never leaving even a step.

…

When Shen Lezhi awoke again, Wang Xi was gone. She must have slept for a long time; the Eustoma on the table had already withered. However, the pain in her body had lessened considerably. Though a faint burning sensation remained in her chest, it was now bearable.

She slid off the bed and walked to the tongbai square table. Several books lay scattered on the bed. Shen Lezhi opened a page; it contained terminology she could barely comprehend, along with small drawings depicting figures, resembling martial arts stances.

She quietly set the book down and walked out of the room. Outside, the courtyard was bordered by a low bamboo fence. Looking into the distance, a descending gravel path stretched out until it disappeared into the bamboo forest beyond the reach of Shen Lezhi’s naked eye.

Shen Lezhi sighed again, convinced that she had truly transmigrated. A sense of gloom settled in her heart. She would have preferred to die completely in the landslide, a death she had anticipated, rather than be stranded alone in this strange world.

Shen Lezhi had glimpsed her current appearance in a mirror earlier: almond-shaped, moist eyes, skin fair and flawless. She appeared pale due to sickness, looking so frail that a gust of wind might topple her. This was not her original appearance, and this body was not hers.

Since childhood, Shen Lezhi had worked the fields with her grandparents. After attending the Agricultural University, even after starting work at a research institute, she often had to conduct fieldwork in rural areas. She was from a small southern town; though not tall, she was petite and quite pretty. However, years of fieldwork, often climbing mountains and wading through water for plant cultivation, meant her skin and muscles were in a state of robust health. She loved that version of herself, feeling as if her body was brimming with strength, not this current state of sickness where walking a few steps made her breathless. She forced herself to walk a little further, coughing so hard she thought she would vomit blood—and in fact, she did vomit fresh blood.

Shen Lezhi stared at the blood in her palm, dizzy and unable to straighten her waist. Her vision blurred. Shen Lezhi had always been a strong-willed person since childhood, having endured much hardship. She could not accept being transported to this place, separated from her home, separated from her own world. She hadn’t even seen her grandparents one last time before dying. People said the soul returns home after death, but her soul could not go back.

Shen Lezhi forced her body to stay upright, as if in defiance, refusing to collapse, but the blood coughed up grew heavier. Her vision suddenly went black, and her body finally gave out, pitching forward.

But the expected pain never arrived. Shen Lezhi’s consciousness instantly cleared a little more.

She smelled a fragrance like snow. Snow has no scent, but that fragrance lingered around her nose, reminding her only of snow. A fresh coolness, like the purity of the first snowfall, or perhaps the faint, solitary fragrance emanating from a winter plum blossom.

Shen Lezhi forced her eyelids open and looked at the person holding her up. It was the only person she had met recently: the original female lead’s Master, Wang Xi.

Shen Lezhi parted her lips but didn’t know how to form a sound. She saw Wang Xi’s cold expression. Wang Xi moved closer, wrapping both arms around Shen Lezhi’s waist, supporting the swaying figure in a half-embrace. The aura of coldness, like frost and snow, grew stronger, making Shen Lezhi’s dizzying consciousness begin to slip away.

“Shen Lezhi,” Wang Xi suddenly called out her name.

This caused Shen Lezhi to shudder involuntarily. The voice was too cold, seemingly suppressing something within it. They were very close; Shen Lezhi could glimpse Wang Xi’s eyes when she looked up—icy and cold, like the stern chill of deep winter. Those eyes seemed to carry an oppressive weight. Yet, Shen Lezhi couldn’t pinpoint exactly what was different from the last time; she only felt fear.

She instinctively twisted her waist, trying to break free from the restraint, but Wang Xi captured this slight movement immediately. The fingers resting on Shen Lezhi’s waist suddenly tightened, gripping the flesh so forcefully that it felt as if they were about to sink into the other’s muscle and blood.

“It hurts…” Shen Lezhi gasped involuntarily. The discomfort of her personal space being violated compelled her to look up and meet Wang Xi’s gaze. She saw the unfathomable darkness in Wang Xi’s eyes, and a thin streak of red that suddenly appeared at the corner of her eye.

Shen Lezhi didn’t have time to look closely because Wang Xi leaned in even closer, almost pressing against her face. That face—lips thin as frost, hair like black lacquer, cold as the bitter frost, yet utterly captivating.

Wang Xi then raised one hand and placed it directly on Shen Lezhi’s chest, pressing down with force, and spoke in a chilling tone: “My heart, is it useful?”