The Abused Heroine Stops Pretending [Quick Transmigration] - Chapter 49

Master, This Time It’s All My Fault. If I…

2.1 The Disgraceful Disciple Adores Me

After a brief rest at the transit station, Tang Jing hurried off to the next world without delay.

During her first mission, she would always take long breaks upon returning to the transit station. Following the plotline only to meet a tragic end inevitably took a toll on her both physically and mentally.

But this time was different this time, her senior was with her.

Just the thought of her senior filled Tang Jing with boundless motivation.

Every time she traveled through the tunnel, she would feel dizzy, and this time was no exception. She barely lasted a few seconds before passing out.

The surface beneath her was hard. Tang Jing groped around with her hands, it felt like a bed. Her eyelids fluttered as she finally shook off the dizziness and snapped her eyes open.

Drawing from her previous experience with transmigration, she remained lying still, first surveying her surroundings: white curtains, a hard bed, and an austere room that seemed as though no one had lived there for years.

Yet, having been here once before, Tang Jing instantly recalled fragments of memory. The thought of being pierced through the heart by a sword in the end made her clutch her chest, as if the pain still lingered.

She opened the world background information sent by the system and skimmed through it rapidly.

Su Wanqiu, the revered master of the Lingyu Palace in the Xianyu Sect, was known for her rigid personality and harsh treatment of her disciples, who both respected and feared her.

However, after taking in a new disciple Wen Mingyu her temperament softened considerably. She became especially patient with this delicate junior disciple, often keeping her company.

Gradually, the disciple developed forbidden feelings for her master, and the master, in turn, grew tenderly protective of her.

Their master-disciple love affair defied moral conventions. The sect leader of Xianyu Sect ordered them imprisoned in the water dungeon for interrogation. Wen Mingyu endured eighty lashes before being expelled from the sect.

Su Wanqiu was stripped of her title as master of Lingyu Palace and cast into the Nether Valley, where she was to suffer for three hundred years before being allowed to leave.

The Nether Valley was a place overrun by demons. Once entered, no one had ever been known to leave.

With her cultivation sealed and after a month in the frigid water dungeon, Su Wanqiu knew she wouldn’t survive long when she was thrown into the Nether Valley.

Yet, when she opened her eyes, she found herself in a small wooden cabin, with someone sitting by her bedside her eldest disciple, Wu Xingyue, whom she had expelled five hundred years ago for harboring romantic feelings toward her.

Five hundred years had passed, but Wu Xingyue’s love for her had only deepened. Upon hearing that her master had been exiled for falling in love with another disciple, Wu Xingyue found it bitterly ironic.

“Master, five hundred years ago, you despised me for loving you. How is it that five hundred years later, you’ve succumbed to the same fate?”

“Master, you’ve made me suffer so much. Tell me, shouldn’t I seek retribution for this pain?”

“But what can I do? I can’t bear to hurt you. Master, why don’t we just grow old together here in the Nether Valley? Just you and me.”

With her cultivation sealed and her body weakened by the cold, Su Wanqiu was frail, barely able to move beyond the vicinity of the cabin.

A hundred years passed. Wu Xingyue called her “Master” every day and held her as they slept. Yet, Su Wanqiu’s face remained perpetually cold and numb. No matter how much Wu Xingyue suffered, she pretended not to notice, deceiving herself.

Even so, Wu Xingyue was happy.

However, on this day, a group of people entered the valley, shattering the tranquility. Leading them was none other than Wen Mingyu, who had been expelled from the sect. She had brought along her close friends to rescue their master.

Faced with so many opponents, even Wu Xingyue, formidable as she was, stood no chance. When Wen Mingyu thrust her sword toward her, Wu Xingyue smiled. Trading one life for a century by her master’s side, she deemed it worth it.

But at that moment, a figure stepped in front of the blade, and the sword pierced straight through their chest.

Everyone present fell silent. Wu Xingyue should have been overjoyed her master had taken the blow for her. Yet she felt no joy, only anguish, deeper than if the sword had struck her own heart.

Without hesitation, she threw herself forward. The same sword that had pierced her master now ran through her own chest.

Su Wanqiu’s eyes were filled with sorrow. “All of this is my fault. Whether six hundred years ago or a hundred years ago, as your master, these sins began with me, and they should end with me.”

Blood trickled from Wu Xingyue’s lips, but her smile remained, as pure and radiant as the day she first met her master. “No, Master. It was all because love knows no restraint.”

Reviewing the world’s background once more, Tang Jing couldn’t help but suck in a breath, pressing a hand to her forehead with a sigh. What a mess! The original owner had entangled not only the eldest disciple but also the youngest was she determined to wreak havoc right under her own roof?

No, wait. She patted her head, chiding herself for the improper thought.

The original owner had been wholly devoted to cultivation, with no interest in romance neither with the eldest disciple nor the youngest.

If there had been any love between her and the youngest disciple, it couldn’t be called romantic, it was more akin to maternal affection.

“When I picked up my youngest disciple, she was still a babe in arms. With centuries between us, how could there be any romantic love?” Tang Jing clicked her tongue and shook her head.

“Master.” A soft, delicate voice called from outside the door, so pitiful it tugged at the heartstrings.

There was no need to look to know who it was her youngest disciple, Wen Mingyu.

Tang Jing quickly settled back onto the bed, adjusting the covers to ensure everything was proper, then softened her tone deliberately. “Come in.”

After all, the original owner had doted on this youngest disciple. While she was strict and harsh with the others, she showed Wen Mingyu leniency, always speaking gently for fear of frightening her.

With a creak, the door opened.

Wen Mingyu wore a pale pink dress, her hair neatly styled and adorned with a jade hairpin, from which dangled a rare pink-gold crystal, a gift from the original owner on her birthday.

“Master, are you feeling better?” Wen Mingyu set the tray she carried on a nearby table and approached, her face full of concern.

“I’m fine.” Tang Jing’s brief scrutiny went unnoticed by Wen Mingyu.

Seeing her master’s pale complexion and frail state, Wen Mingyu’s heart ached. Suddenly, she gasped and stood up. “Master, you must be hungry. I’ve prepared some congee for you.”

Tang Jing propped herself up slowly. When Wen Mingyu moved to feed her, she shook her head gently. “I’ll manage on my own.”

Wen Mingyu frowned. “Master…”

“Hmm?” Tang Jing sipped the congee unhurriedly. It was bland no sugar, no side dishes utterly tasteless. After a couple of bites, she set it aside, having barely touched it.

To Wen Mingyu’s eyes, this was deeply touching. After all, cultivators could enter a state of fasting where they wouldn’t need to eat for years without issue.

Yet what she loved most was cooking. Though she wasn’t very good at it, her master would always take a bite or two of her dishes. Just that alone was enough to satisfy her.

The thought that her master’s injuries this time were all due to her recklessness made Wen Mingyu’s eyes redden with guilt. “Master, this is all my fault. If I hadn’t—”

“It’s fine. As long as you’re unharmed, that’s what matters. Your master just needs a few days of rest to recover,” Tang Jing reassured her. A closer look would reveal that her attitude toward Wen Mingyu had already shifted to one of doting affection for a junior.

But Wen Mingyu was oblivious to this. Hearing her master’s words, she blushed faintly in embarrassment and lowered her head to hide it, her fingers nervously twisting the handkerchief in her hands.

Tang Jing: “…” Little sister, don’t make that gesture. Your master is hundreds of years older than you. Even if you want a young cow to eat old grass, aren’t you afraid of chipping your teeth?

Bah, how could I call myself old grass? I’m more like a fresh flower.

Just then, the door was knocked again. This time, it was the sect leader of the Xianyu Sect Bu Qing, who had rushed over upon hearing that Tang Jing had awakened.

“Susu, how are you feeling?” The sect leader called out before even stepping inside. However, upon noticing another person in the room, her footsteps paused briefly before she entered as if nothing had happened.

Wen Mingyu stood and bowed. “Sect Leader.”

Bu Qing nodded, then turned her gaze to Tang Jing, stepping forward to ask, “How is your condition?”

The earlier familiarity was gone, replaced only by the concern of a sect leader for a subordinate.

“A few days of rest will suffice.”

With a disciple present, Bu Qing didn’t linger long. After a few words of comfort, she left.

Only after she was gone did Wen Mingyu finally cover her mouth and burst into muffled laughter.

Tang Jing shot her a questioning look.

Wen Mingyu had always been relaxed around her master. While the other senior brothers and sisters hardly dared to breathe in their master’s presence, she had never felt such restraints.

She blinked mischievously and teased, “Susu.”

“Don’t be disrespectful,” Tang Jing chided in mock anger.

Having followed her master for years, Wen Mingyu could easily tell that Tang Jing wasn’t truly upset just embarrassed at having her childhood nickname exposed.

“Master, your nickname is so lovely, Susu.” With a playful grin, she stuck out her tongue, lifted her skirt, and scampered off.

Tang Jing: “…”

Once alone, she slumped back onto the bed in relief. The moment the nickname “Susu” crossed her mind, her lips twitched in disagreement, she really couldn’t bring herself to like it.

Taking advantage of the solitude, she carefully reviewed the world’s background information sent by the system once more.

Confirming that nothing major would happen in the near future, she finally relaxed.

Having experienced too many worlds, she had forgotten many details about this one. But the memory of the original host being trapped in a small cabin by her yandere senior disciple for a hundred years in the Nether Valley still sent shivers down her spine.

She wondered which role her senior would take in this world.

Picking up the neatly folded robe by the bed, she dressed herself, tied her hair into a simple bun, and pushed the door open to step outside.

“Master.” A disciple who had been about to enter immediately bowed in reverence upon seeing her.

“Hm.” Tang Jing nodded in acknowledgment before clasping her hands behind her back and walking toward the Ascension Platform not far ahead, a place symbolizing transcendence and ascension to immortality.

Built upon a protruding cliff, it was where disciples from various halls usually cultivated.

Today was a day of rest, and the Ascension Terrace had only a few disciples present. They all bowed respectfully upon seeing her, and she nodded in return one by one. Soon, she reached the highest point of the Ascension Terrace pavilion.

From here, she could gaze upon most of Yaozhou, a land flourishing under the protection of numerous immortal sects.

But she turned and walked to the other side, looking down. Perpetually shrouded in thick mist, the view beyond revealed a perilous forest teeming with danger.

This forest was known as the Gloomwood, the most treacherous place on the continent, where countless demonic creatures lurked.

Near the cliffside lay a gorge called the Nether Vale, the very place she would soon be thrown into.

After standing there for a quarter of an hour, Tang Jing turned and descended the pavilion, unaware that behind a nearby rockery, a figure in plain servant’s attire was hiding.

The servant quickly concealed himself. Once the master of Lingyu Palace had left, he hurriedly sent a message down the mountain.

Tang Jing knew there were spies in her palace sent by her eldest disciple, Wu Xingyue. But she made no effort to seek them out, what would it change? The most important thing now was to wait patiently for the grand climax: the exposure of the “scandalous romance between master and disciple.”

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