He Transmigrated Into The Body Of A Useless Little Disciple, Whose Innermost Thoughts Were Overheard By Demonic Master! - Chapter 18

Before Lei Ze left, he glanced at Xie Rong’s room one last time and looked at Xuan Yue with meaningful eyes. “You are too good to Xie Rong. Be careful you do not raise an ingrate.”

In the cultivation world, stories of master and disciple turning into enemies were common. By providing Xie Rong with so many resources, Xuan Yue was slowly inflating the boy’s appetite. Eventually, Xie Rong would cease to be grateful and would instead view Xuan Yue’s generosity as a right. Should the supply of resources ever dwindle, Xie Rong might become resentful or even hateful.

Xuan Yue looked at Lei Ze with a complex gaze and shook his head. “He will not.”

Initially, his intention had been to inflate Xie Rong’s greed, to spark avarice in his heart, and to mold him into a competent cultivator, or at least someone he could tolerate looking at. Yet, Xie Rong’s heart had never changed. He never coveted what was not his, nor did he scheme against others to break through. He was foolish, truly foolish, but Xuan Yue had to admit that Xie Rong possessed the purest soul in the world.

Lei Ze thought Xuan Yue had lost his mind. Every normal person’s greed would eventually grow, and becoming an ingrate was inevitable. Lei Ze sighed. “Fine. He is your disciple; if you say he will not, then he will not.” As a Mahayana cultivator, Xuan Yue could clear his sect of any threat with a single strike if needed. Xie Rong’s talent was so limited he could never pose a real threat. “Zhong Menghui is very possessive of you. If you want peace, I suggest you have Xie Rong move out.”

Xuan Yue frowned at the mention of the overbearing Zhong Menghui. “The Junior Sister is not of Snow Cloud Peak; she should not interfere with my affairs.”

He had finally gotten Xie Rong to open up to him; if he let the boy move away, they would return to that stiff, distant state. Lei Ze sighed, attempting to reason with him. “She is your Master’s daughter. Her temperament is spoiled, but your Master is a reasonable man.”

The whole sect knew Zhong Mobei forbade his daughter from contacting Xuan Yue, claiming her talent was unworthy of him. Most people assumed Mobei favored Xuan Yue even more than his own daughter. Lei Ze, however, always sensed something off. Mobei was no saint; he would not demean his own daughter to praise a disciple unless there was a hidden motive. If Mobei truly valued Xuan Yue, he would not have taken Menghui to the Ancient Secret Realm while sending Xuan Yue to the border to seek breakthroughs alone. Had Xuan Yue not been blessed with heaven-defying luck, he would never have reached the Mahayana stage.

Xuan Yue sneered inwardly. His Master was a master of appearances. He kept Menghui away only to prevent Xuan Yue from accidentally revealing his demonic identity. A thousand years ago, Xuan Yue knew that if he did not reach the Mahayana stage before Mobei returned from the secret realm, his end was certain.

After Lei Ze departed, Xuan Yue looked toward Xie Rong’s room, a faint smile on his face. He usually had to expend eighty percent of his spiritual power to suppress the Demonic Bone, leaving him with only twenty percent of his true strength. During Xie Rong’s tribulation, Xuan Yue had held him for a single incense stick’s time, and the Demonic Bone had remained dormant for thirty full days. In that state, he could use his full strength without restraint. His original plan, which had only a fifty-percent chance of success, had now climbed to eighty percent thanks to the boy.

Thirty years passed. Xie Rong had given up on God Essence Pills, as they no longer produced any increase in cultivation; the energy simply dissipated in his body. Only Xuan Yue knew that Xie Rong’s body had reached a terrifying level of fortitude.

“Master, my constitution is a waste,” Xie Rong said. “No matter how many pills I consume, I cannot increase my cultivation. Do not waste any more spirit stones on me. I have already spent so many that I have lost count.” At first, he had tried to keep a mental tally of his debts, but the sum became too astronomical to care.

Xuan Yue checked his own empty storage ring and breathed a sigh of relief. He had actually been eaten into poverty. It was absurd; a Mahayana cultivator, bankrupted by a Golden Core disciple. If Xie Rong continued to eat at this rate, Xuan Yue would have to start robbing the Demon Realm to make ends meet. He had already sold all his treasures, save for his life-bound Immortal Sword, just to exchange spirit stones for God Essence Pills. When he had approached Gu Chen to trade a million-year-old herb for the pills, the look on the alchemist’s face was that of someone watching a madman.

Xuan Yue signaled for Xie Rong to sit. The boy poured tea and smiled. “Master, are you going out soon? Can I come along? I do not need to refine pills every day anymore.”

“I am not going out. Your Grandmaster and your Junior Aunt are returning.”

Xie Rong, having spent decades with him, no longer felt the initial distance. “Master, what is Grandmaster like? Will he dislike me? My talent is so poor; the whole world would despise me if not for you and Senior Brother.”

Xuan Yue reached out and smoothed Xie Rong’s hair—a gesture he never denied the boy. “Your Grandmaster is a stern man; he will not hold you in high regard. Remember what I told you: never tell anyone about your constitution. As for your Aunt Menghui, stay away from her. If she targets you, do not fear; I will stand on your side.”

Xie Rong was deeply moved and leaned in to hug Xuan Yue’s waist. I knew Master would protect me! The Sect Master told me to butter her up, saying she might become my Master’s wife, but Master clearly likes me more than her. He never lies to me. Have I been spoiled? I find myself becoming more and more demanding.

Xuan Yue felt a sense of defeat. He had intended to spoil the boy into arrogance, yet Xie Rong remained as clean and white as a blank sheet of paper. As Xie Rong pulled away, Xuan Yue felt a pang of loneliness he could not quite define.

The day Zhong Mobei and Zhong Menghui returned, Xuan Yue felt a complicated knot in his chest. “Let’s go. It is time to meet your Grandmaster.”

Xie Rong stuffed half a fruit into his mouth and tugged at Xuan Yue’s sleeve. “Master, change into something more festive.”

Xuan Yue, who never cared for appearances, looked at his own robes. “I only changed these a month ago.”

Xie Rong looked at him with disdain. “You said it yourself—it has been a month! Wear something else.” Xie Rong grabbed a red and white outfit he had instructed the puppet to make. Xuan Yue balked—it was too flashy—but Xie Rong pleaded with his signature crescent-moon eyes. “Wear this, Master! You have been single for six thousand years; it is time you found someone who cares for you.”

Xuan Yue sighed and relented. He still could not understand why the boy was so obsessed with the fact that he had not found a Daoist partner in six thousand years. Was it really that embarrassing?