It Turns Out The Master's Wife Is Actually Me [GL] - Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Moreover, your talent isn’t actually that high.

Cheng Fu:

Even though she knew Yan Li was speaking the truth, she still felt a phantom chest pain.

Cheng Fu took a deep breath, lowered her gaze, and carefully examined the sword Yan Li had given her. The blade was slender, and the hilt bore two dark red inlaid characters: Shutu (Divergent Paths). Against the dark backdrop of the hilt, the inscription was subtle, almost hidden.

She rested the flat of the blade on her right palm, placed her left hand on the hilt, and slowly drew the sword from its scabbard. The sword itself was even thinner and longer than it appeared when sheathed. The spine of the blade remained ancient and dull, utterly unremarkable. The sharpest edge of the blade hid within the flickering candlelight, revealing its keen brilliance only by chance.

Cheng Fu’s eyes were glued to the steel, a strange light shining in her pupils. For some reason she couldn’t name, the moment she saw this sword, her soul felt ensnared by its ancient, steady presence. Deep within the most secret corners of this physical shell, a remote part of her seemed to vibrate at the exact same frequency as this sword she had never met before.

Her heart had never raced like this. It was a mere inanimate object, yet it felt as if it contained ten thousand words, waiting for a compatible cultivator to slowly decipher its true meaning. Cheng Fu, intoxicated and reverent, pressed her cheek against the cold blade, silently and stubbornly feeling its pulse.

Only now did Cheng Fu truly feel that she had arrived in a different world, entirely separate from where she once lived. At this moment, she owned a sword; she had become a sword-wielding cultivator.

Cheng Fu’s visible shock did not escape Yan Li’s eyes. Yan Li’s long lashes were lowered, hiding her gaze as she contemplated something. To the rhythm of the flickering candle, her knuckles tapped rhythmically against the table.

In the midst of the tap-tap sound, Yan Li spoke quietly: This sword is named Shutu. It is a spiritual sword highly compatible with Dharma cultivators. The swordsmith spent a great deal of effort crafting it specifically so it could be wielded by one.

Cheng Fu snapped out of her trance, her eyes refocusing on Yan Li. Stunned, she blurted out, There are actually swordsmiths who forge swords specifically for Dharma cultivators?

Yan Li didn’t answer, and the hall fell into silence once more. Just as Cheng Fu felt awkward enough to look for an excuse to leave, Yan Li finally spoke:

No. For many years, there has been only one person who practiced the Way of the Sword as a Dharma cultivator. And that swordsmith only ever forged swords for that one person.

Cheng Fu sheathed the sword and said no more. she simply bowed deeply to Yan Li and said firmly, “Your disciple thanks you, Master. I will not disappoint your expectations.

Yan Li clearly didn’t care for such words. She frowned and said, There is no need to make promises to me. Since I have taken you as my disciple, it means that regardless of your merit or status, honor or disgrace, you are my disciple for life. You do not need to feel ashamed because you cannot achieve the ‘success’ expected of a Sword Venerable’s disciple.

I have never cared for worldly fame or profit. You only need to remember that you are my disciple. What kind of person my disciple is. I will be the one to back you up. Her words were clear and resonant.

The candle-lit hall fell silent for a moment. Cheng Fu’s face was hidden in the shadows where the light couldn’t reach, but her figure stretched into a long shadow against the gold-carved walls.

Yes. Your disciple will keep your teachings in mind.

That night, the wind was clear and the moon hung high.

Students of Zhiwang trickled out of the lecture halls in twos and threes, the crisp laughter of female students occasionally drifting on the wind. Before long, the lights in the mountainside dorms were extinguished, replaced by scattered glimmers at the foot of the mountain as students returned to their lodgings to wash up and rest.

Near the mountain peak, beside Yan Li’s sleeping quarters, sat a square water pool. Upon closer inspection, the clear water emitted a frosty, frigid vapor. It was so icy that one felt a chill through their bones without even getting close.

Yet, a shadow moved by the poolside, shrouded in the ink-black night, dancing with a sword amidst the rising mist of the cold pool. It was Cheng Fu.

Before Yan Li had retired to her room, she had pointed Cheng Fu toward this place: the Sword-Washing Pool. This pool had once been used for forging; after it came into Yan Li’s possession, it was designated as a training ground. The chill in the pool was pure, its temperature rivaling the harshest season of the snow-plains, yet the water did not freeze, flowing with a frigid mist. It was perfectly suited for cultivators whose sword intent was connected to water.

Dressed in light inner robes, Cheng Fu seemed oblivious to the biting cold. The cold wind stirred by her sword intent suddenly stopped. She performed a casual sword flower and sheathed the blade with a crisp shing.

This body was indeed highly talented, as 068 had said, and its proficiency in casting was not bad. She had spent two hours practicing and could perform about seventy to eighty percent of the original body’s spells. Overall, it was smooth and intuitive.

However, regarding this Shutu sword that was supposedly highly compatible with Dharma cultivators, Cheng Fu could only manage to inject a portion of spiritual energy into it; she couldn’t yet drive it with her energy. She frowned slightly, her eyes fixed on the sword, deciding to ask Yan Li first thing in the morning.

Since Yan Li had her practice here, she naturally intended for her to stay the night. Cheng Fu thought of the study Yan Li had pointed out earlier her lodging for the night was to be that very study.

When she was knocked awake by Yan Li, Cheng Fu felt as though she had only just closed her eyes.

It’s noon. How long do you plan to sleep?

Yan Li’s cold voice sent a jolt through Cheng Fu’s entire body. She rubbed her eyes groalily, only then realizing the sun was high in the sky.

Cheng Fu flipped out of bed and quickly straightened her clothes. She had been so tired the night before that she had slept in her robes. As she straightened up, she asked, Master, I’ll be ready in a second. I didn’t miss anything important, did I?

Yan Li remained expressionless. You missed everything. This morning, I recommended you to the Head Dean for admission. I intended to take you to the dorms when you woke up, but who knew you’d sleep until now? On your first day of school, you missed all the morning classes.

Cheng Fu’s hands froze, her eyes widening in disbelief. I’m officially enrolled just like that? And there are classes? Master, don’t be in such a hurry to drive the duck onto the perch!

Yan Li glanced at her, her tone flat. Because it was my recommendation. Also, as my disciple, you only need to attend the morning theory classes. As for martial arts practice and practical application, I will be personally responsible for you.

As she listened, Cheng Fu’s feet were already flying into her shoes. Just as she was about to bolt out the door, she realized something was wrong. She stopped at the threshold, blinked, and asked, Master do you even know my name?

Yan Li paused. A rare, stiff expression appeared on her beautiful face. I do not.

Then how did you recommend me? The confusion in Cheng Fu’s eyes was about to overflow.

The snow-haired, stunning sword cultivator gave a slight cough. I said I had taken a disciple and told him to record the enrollment.

Cheng Fu wiped the sweat from her forehead, speechless. She could easily imagine her master walking up to the Dean with an air of noble coldness, dropping the phrase Record the enrollment, and leaving before the Dean could even ask for a name leaving him staring at nothing but the back of her flowing white hair.

Perhaps to alleviate the embarrassment, Yan Li coughed again. You may as well rest today. No need for class.

Looking at the wrinkles she had just smoothed out on her robes, Cheng Fu fell into a daze. Then Master, you go ahead I’m going back to sleep.

Yan Li nodded and turned to leave, but then remembered something and looked back. What is your name?

Cheng Fu pulled her blanket back up, exhausted.

The news that Sword Venerable Wurong had taken a disciple swept through and shocked the entire Zhiwang Academy in just half a day. Following the Purple Thunder, the top students finally boiled over.

Who was Sword Venerable Wurong? Setting aside her strength that dominated the Five Spiritual Realms, this stunning female sword cultivator had captured the hearts of countless cultivators. Even those who didn’t practice the sword would snap their fingers and say, Oh you mean that incredibly beautiful, snow-haired ice mountain female sword cultivator.

Yan Li’s strength and beauty were more like an unreachable legend in the Five Realms. Everyone knew she was cold and detached, yet her power was so peerless that no one could ignore her. Her sword was the strongest in the world. Legend had it that her sword intent could pull the stars and moon, and a last-stand battle could exhaust the heavens.

The sword techniques she used were resilient and harmonious, yet they bore no resemblance to any established sect or style. With a heavy blade that lacked a sharp edge, her simple strikes, slashes, and stabs were enough to traverse the realms, leaving opponents with no way to counter. The Sect Master of Qingshan once sighed after watching her: The world is vast, yet it can hardly contain this one sword.

The strongest sword was naturally crowned with the title of Sword Venerable, and because of that comment, the world called her Sword Venerable Wurong.

Seventy percent of Zhiwang Academy were sword cultivators, so many who admired her dreamed of becoming her disciple. Unfortunately, she had always been cold and showed no interest in teaching. She had sat in Zhiwang for a hundred years without a single student under her.

Now, the Sword Venerable had actually taken a disciple and a Dharma cultivator at that!

The people of Zhiwang were green with envy. Hearing that this Dharma cultivator would come to class the next day, everyone craned their necks, wanting to see what was so extraordinary about this person.

What they didn’t expect was that this rule-breaking disciple didn’t show up on her first day. While shocked by her audacity, the students became even more convinced that she must be an exceptionally gifted, once-in-ten-thousand-years genius. They still had lingering fears of how nitpicky the Sword Venerable could be; if she tolerated such a lazy disciple, that person’s talent for the sword must surely exceed their own.

After spending some time imagining the brilliance of the Sword Venerable’s disciple, the students began to look forward to her arrival with intense anticipation.

Cheng Fu had no idea that a massive reputation had already been placed on her head through the academy’s rumors. She slept until evening, when the sky was dimming. Yan Li was not in the palace. Concerned about driving the Shutu sword, Cheng Fu practiced at the Sword-Washing Pool for a while until her stomach began to growl.

By then, the sky was pitch black. Cheng Fu estimated it was already the hour of the Pig (Hai Shi, 9 PM – 11 PM), and she wasn’t sure if the refectory was still open. After some thought, hunger won out, and she headed toward the refectory from memory.

“The good stuff will be gone,” she thought as she walked, but maybe I can find some leftovers to fill my stomach.

On the way, she could see lights still burning in several lecture halls. She marveled at the dedication of the students in this top-tier academy. As she neared the refectory, she was surprised to find the lights still on.

Just as she was about to step inside, 068’s voice rang out abruptly.

Host, please take note: your mission target for this soul transaction is nearby! Please seize the opportunity to create a good first impression!

Cheng Fu froze. Her target, Xin Yunze, was still at the refectory this late?

She stepped inside and scanned the room. It appeared empty, save for a few cafeteria workers chatting and resting by the serving windows. Just as she thought this, a sudden, swift gust of wind from someone passing by blew her hair across her face.

Her vision was momentarily blocked by her own hair, and a youthful voice rang through the hall:

Auntie, the usual three dishes, and give me five more bowls of spiritual rice!