The Immortal Lord of the Path of Ruthlessness Bends for Me - Chapter 12

Chapter 12: A Single Veil Apart, a Vision Surpassing the Most Radiant Spring

The air was faintly warm, mingled with the lingering humidity of water vapor. Inside the small chamber, a crisp, cold incense burned, drifting faintly alongside the fresh scent of bath beans. A single veil apart lay a scene more exquisite than the most radiant spring.

Drenched in fragrant sweat, they were lost in each other, offering their true hearts. They knew not the meaning of sorrow, only the intoxication of ultimate bliss. They drew close—so close their skin pressed together, so close the fine hairs on their faces touched. Amidst the softness of lips, they exchanged the moisture of their breath. Their scorching breaths collided, fused, and entwined. The heat of the water fanned the fires of the heart, burning cheeks crimson until a plea for mercy was heard.

To hear the Master beg for mercy.

None of this had actually happened. The heat of demonic power combined with the pain of internal injuries had conjured a hallucination in Ling Shu’s mind. The dalliance she imagined flickered before her eyes, time and again.

Feeling a sudden heat beneath her nose, she wiped it in confusion. Her hand came away a startling, vivid red. As if struck by a mallet, Ling Shu snapped awake.

Her Master was bathing, and she had intruded. The sudden burst of embarrassment made her want to vanish into the earth. Wiping the nosebleed with her sleeve, she turned to flee, but her feet tangled. She stumbled through several steps—a literal frantic escape.

Leaving the Water-Moon Hot Spring, Ling Shu ran toward the nearby rockery, putting distance between herself and the place that had bewitched her soul. She found a desolate corner and huddled beneath a hollow entrance formed by the overgrown rockery. Like a dog aware of its impending death, she spent her final moments alone, licking her wounds.

The cold winter wind whistled through the crevices of the rocks. Far from the main hall, she felt a coldness in the Hall of Pure Rest that didn’t originate from that person. In the pitch-black night, within that icy corner, the wind howled like ghosts. A dull ache throbbed in her abdomen, and cold sweat broke out on her brow. The high fever blurred her consciousness. Though the nosebleed had stopped, a large red stain marred her sleeve, appearing as a filthy black smudge in the dark.

She used her meager spiritual power to heal herself. For the first time since her birth, she felt the brink of death. She wasn’t afraid to die; she was afraid her “Bright Moon” would weep for her. But would one who followed the “Path of Heartlessness” shed tears for the passing of a small life? Perhaps her death would at least earn her a single downward glance?

O unreachable traveler beyond the dust, you are cold when near, yet my longing for you burns fiercely when far.

Her body felt as if it were being scorched by the midday sun. The moon’s shadow before her eyes grew indistinct. Drowsiness, heavy and deep, washed over her.

Ling Shu pinched her thigh hard to force herself awake, gritting her teeth to continue the healing. She cursed herself for being unable to control her thousand-year demonic power, persevering with stubborn willpower until her last bit of magic was exhausted. With one final thought, she drifted into unconsciousness.

Why on earth did Wang Lifu raise that damn pig!!!

And: I want you to save me.

In her comatose state, her five senses sank into ancient chaos. For a moment, she heard the howling of the wind like wolves; at another, she smelled the scent of lush green grass. Her vision was pitch black, and her sense of taste was failing, yet her hearing and touch remained.

She heard the rustle of footsteps treading through dense weeds. Her skin felt a sensation of softness. A pair of gentle hands steadily supported her back and the crooks of her knees. Then, her body left the freezing ground, and her arm leaned against a soft surface.

This embrace was warm yet cool, pressing against her feverish skin like a long-awaited antidote.

The rustling steps turned into the faint tap-tap of feet hitting cyan bricks. She was being carried. The person walked with a steady pace, moving from the icy darkness toward warmth, finally laying her down on a soft couch.

Familiar, icy spiritual power was being steadily funneled into her body. Her agitated demonic energy was suppressed, and the pain in her abdomen gradually faded. Half an hour later, a delicate wet cloth wiped her forehead, cheeks, and neck.

Then, she began to… untie her belt…?!

Ling Shu’s consciousness had returned, but she couldn’t open her eyes. The less she saw, the more sensitive her physical sensations became. She could clearly feel the cold aura from Zhuang Jinfu drifting over her as each layer of her clothing was loosened.

The person was extremely patient. Afraid of accidentally cinching her waist while removing the belt, her movements were incredibly careful and slow.

Zhuang Jinfu untied my belt!

My dear Master, my “traveler beyond the dust,” what are you doing with those noble hands of yours? Untying your disciple’s clothes???

Hehe, keep going…

Those cool hands peeled away her robes layer by layer from the collar, stopping only at the inner garment. A warm breath swept over her, and the crisp, cold scent of incense filled her senses.

This, this, this… is she going to kiss me?

The expected lips did not descend. Instead, a hand braced her shoulder, lifting her from the couch while the other hand slid the clothes off her. A sudden chill hit her, and Ling Shu’s skin broke into goosebumps instantly.

Master, what… what are you doing!!!

Soon, another garment made of skin-friendly fabric was draped over her back. Her hands were guided into the sleeves, and after some adjustment, the belt was fastened.

Oh, she was just changing her clothes. She thought…

Ling Shu felt sheepish but still couldn’t open her eyes. The coolness beside her began to move away. Zhuang Jinfu slowly laid her back on the couch, carefully tucked her in, and turned to leave.

Before she could take a single step, she stopped. A force snagged her sleeve. Turning back, she saw a pair of watery eyes. The gaze was shimmering like light reflecting off glass—pure, untainted, yet filled with the unease of someone afraid of loss.

For a long while, Ling Shu did not speak, only watching her with that gaze.

Zhuang Jinfu’s immortal compassion was touched by this pitiful look. She spoke: “If you were injured, why did you not come to find your Master?”

Ling Shu’s throat moved. After confirming she could still make a sound, she whispered, “I… I was afraid you would find me a nuisance and wouldn’t want me anymore.”

Zhuang Jinfu took a step forward and sat on the edge of the bed. Tucking in the quilt, she said, “Master will not find her disciple a nuisance. Taking you in was my own choice. No matter the time, I will never leave you behind.”

Ling Shu didn’t let go of the sleeve, nor did her eyes move from her Master. She said softly, “Keep your word.”

“Mhm. I keep my word.” Zhuang Jinfu softened her tone, asking with concern, “Who bullied you?”

Ling Shu shook her head, as obedient as a rabbit. “No one bullied me. It was Wang Lifu’s damn pig. It went crazy and tried to ram our fellow disciples. I went to subdue the stupid pig and accidentally got stepped on. I think two ribs are broken… but it’s okay! I didn’t die!”

Zhuang Jinfu said warmly, “It is fine. I have already set your bones and healed your internal injuries. You must rest quietly in the hall for the next half month.”

Ling Shu said indignantly, “It’s all that stupid pig’s fault! Why on earth did it have to go and sniff the Pu Lotus pollen!”

Zhuang Jinfu paused. “There are no Pu Lotuses in the Demon-Transmuting Valley.”

Upon hearing this, Ling Shu slapped the quilt and sat up. “Which villain is trying to harm me!” She immediately thought of those three cultivators. They had clearly instigated the trouble, dragging her to the valley for no reason. Perhaps the pig going mad was their doing as well!

Seeing her anger, Zhuang Jinfu lightly patted her shoulder to soothe her. “I will investigate this for you. Rest peacefully. I will handle your leave of absence. It is late; you should sleep.” With that, she stood up.

Once again, she failed to leave. Ling Shu’s hand was still clutching her sleeve.

“What is it?” Zhuang Jinfu seemed oblivious to Ling Shu’s shifting emotions. “Is there something else?”

Ling Shu glanced at the door, then back to Zhuang Jinfu. She looked at her with that same endearing gaze, her lips moving but no words coming out, as if she were hesitating.

“Mhm?”

“Can you… stay with me?”

“Alright.”

Zhuang Jinfu sat back down. Glancing at the hand on her sleeve, she said, “If I promise to stay with you, I will stay with you.” Only then did Ling Shu slowly release her grip.

“Sleep.”

Ling Shu did not close her eyes.

“Must I sing a lullaby?”

Ling Shu huffed, saying bluntly, “I’m not a child!” Zhuang Jinfu let out a faint laugh. Ling Shu loved it when she laughed; only then did she seem like someone Ling Shu could actually reach.

Taking advantage of her Master’s softened state, Ling Shu pushed her luck: “Master, are you going to stay sitting the whole time?”

Zhuang Jinfu said she would wait until Ling Shu fell asleep. Ling Shu took her hand and said pitifully, “Stay and sleep with me, okay?”

Zhuang Jinfu was about to refuse when Ling Shu added mournfully, “I miss my mother.”

“Alright.”

Ling Shu happily lifted the quilt and moved over to make space. Since there was only one pillow, Zhuang Jinfu lay down beside her, sharing the pillow. Once tucked in, Ling Shu buried her head under the covers and wouldn’t come out.

Zhuang Jinfu was puzzled. “Disciple, sleeping with your head covered is bad for your breathing.” Ling Shu didn’t answer or move. Thinking her injuries had flared up, Zhuang Jinfu hurriedly turned and lifted the quilt. Ling Shu suddenly lunged forward, squeezing into her embrace. She looked up and mumbled, “Master, can you hold me while we sleep?”

A flicker of fluster crossed Zhuang Jinfu’s eyes. Her hand, holding the corner of the quilt, froze in mid-air. Ling Shu said, “Master, it’s cold.” Realizing she had dazed off, Zhuang Jinfu lowered the quilt and tucked it in. As she withdrew her hand, Ling Shu added, “Master, I only have you left.”

The hand Zhuang Jinfu had raised fell back down. She reached out across the quilt and pulled her close.

Zhuang Jinfu’s arm didn’t press down heavily; it rested lightly atop the quilt. Her eyes, usually indifferent to all things, stared at Ling Shu’s thin shoulder. After a sudden silence, she said, “Being close to me will only make you colder. Staying far away is better for you.”

“I need your coldness.”

Hearing this, the withered tree in Zhuang Jinfu’s heart felt as though a jar of spring water had been poured over it, nourishing its shriveled roots. The world revered her nobility and feared her coldness; they protected her faithfully while simultaneously making demands. She was an altar built of expectations, enshrining the only True Immortal. The endless whispers beneath the incense ash were all as heavy as mountains. What about you?

How should I view you?

Ling Shu rested her head against her Master’s chest. Seeing the arm draped over her, her heart skipped a beat. She could only keep her head down to hide her blushing face. She inhaled the cold fragrance of her Master’s body, controlling her hands which wanted to follow her heart’s desire to touch. She simply leaned against her.

“Sleep,” Zhuang Jinfu’s clear, melodious voice came from above. Her tone was as calm and steady as a straight line.

“Mhm.”

After a long, long time, Ling Shu finally dared to look up at the face that had lived so long in her improper thoughts. She shifted her body. Zhuang Jinfu didn’t move; her posture remained unchanged, still holding her lightly through the quilt.

“Master?” Ling Shu whispered. There was no response.

Zhuang Jinfu’s breathing was steady. Her eyelashes were as long and thick as fans, and her willow-leaf brows were slender and curved. Though her eyes were closed, one could still see the cold, detached elegance in her features. Beneath her high nose were lips that were red even without makeup. Ling Shu stared at them. As if possessed, she reached out a finger and touched them lightly. Beneath her fingertip was a temperature as cool as the woman herself.

Ling Shu tilted her head up, bringing her face close to those lips. Her breath hitched for several cycles before she finally moved away, resting her head against her Master’s collar.

In an instant, her face turned a deep, blood-red. Overwhelmed with shame, Ling Shu ducked back under the covers, cupping her burning face with both hands. The sound of her heart was like a drum beating against a door, loud and chaotic.

Her ear was close to Zhuang Jinfu’s heart. Her own frantic heartbeat stood in stark contrast to Zhuang Jinfu’s, which was the very definition of calm and composed.

It took Ling Shu a long time to calm the ripples in her heart. Outside, it was silent—not even the sound of falling snow could be heard. Her pillow was filled with the cold scent of Zhuang Jinfu, and if she inhaled deeply, she could catch a faint, natural body fragrance. It was a sweetness distinct from the cold incense, a touch of warmth hidden within the coldness—just like the warmth Zhuang Jinfu left for Ling Shu amidst her indifference to the world.

Wrapped in this fragrance, Ling Shu’s drowsiness deepened, and she slowly drifted into dreamland.

The owner of that collar lay motionless on the pillow. Beneath those delicate brows, her eyelashes fluttered slightly, and she slowly opened her eyes—eyes that were perfectly clear and awake.

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