Chapter Forty-Three: The Petty Master Who Holds Grudges

To not bring shame upon my master’s lineage, not disgrace the name of Purple Lotus, not let Spirit Cloud Mountain become the laughingstock of the Six Realms—these all sounded reasonable enough. For the sake of my Purple Lotus, for that adorable white-bearded Third Uncle, and for the sweet, chubby little Dudu, I thought I would strive to meet these expectations.

“What’s the matter? Regretting it? Don’t want it anymore?”

Lost in thought, I was startled by Purple Lotus’s sudden, cold voice. The chill in his words swept over me like shards of ice, making me wonder if winter had come early.

“No, it’s not that,” I quickly shook my head, anxiously searching for the right words to persuade him, to make him believe me.

Thinking back, I recalled those mortal stories I’d read in the Demon Realm’s little journals. In those tales, the tragic heroine’s lament seemed to move others deeply; perhaps it would touch Purple Lotus too. So I put on a sorrowful expression and said to him, “Little Fish has always been alone, never knowing anyone’s care. This is the first time someone has offered me a gift. The joy of such unexpected kindness overwhelmed me, and I became distracted, so I missed what Master said.”

As I spoke, I lifted my sleeve to wipe away imaginary tears from the corners of my eyes. Sneaking a glance at him, I saw his face was still dark, his anger not yet abated.

“Master, Little Fish was wrong! I beg your forgiveness!” I bent forward, reaching out to take the sword from his hand. Yet, after a moment, he still showed no intention of giving it to me.

“Master?” I looked up at him, confusion written across my face, only to see him turn away, his expression indifferent as he gazed elsewhere.

Who gives a gift like this? If he keeps holding on to the sword, I might just snatch it myself, regardless of whether he’s Purple Lotus or my master.

Yet he seemed still angry, paying me no mind. Hearing me call him, he merely glanced over and gave me a frosty look.

Seriously? Is it possible for a master to be so petty?

Determined to claim his peerless sword, I threw caution to the wind and knelt at his knees, lifting both hands solemnly to receive it, declaring loudly, “Whatever Master gives, Little Fish will cherish.”

Surely that would be enough! Such heartfelt words, such an adorable disciple, and such a formal gesture—Purple Lotus shouldn’t be angry with me anymore.

But to my surprise, he turned abruptly and walked to the table. Under my hopeful gaze, he set the jade sword down without a trace of tenderness.

“Master?” I stared at him in bewilderment.

With his back turned, he spoke, “You have only been my disciple for three days. I haven’t had time to teach you any spells.”

That was true; I nodded quietly.

He settled by the table, lifted a cup of tea, and began to sip it slowly. For a long time, he said nothing more, as if he had forgotten me, kneeling on the floor, and forgotten our plan to descend the mountain to the mortal world today.

“Master.”

Unable to bear it, I called to him again, rubbing my sore knees.

He remained serene, utterly at ease, pouring himself another cup of tea and savoring it, without so much as glancing at me.

Though my knees throbbed painfully, I dared not rise without his permission.