I finished
translating faster than expected so here you go! But I think the rest of the
chapters will still stick to a weekly schedule. Also, please point out any
mistakes, thanks!
Chapter 2
Actually, about
a hundred years ago, I also once had a disciple. But that disciple died...
He stole my divine sword, rebelled against me, went to settle his personal grudges and then he...
died.
He stole my divine sword, rebelled against me, went to settle his personal grudges and then he...
died.
When I first
met my disciple, he was very young; a few years younger than this audacious
youth that dared to take liberties with me.
I still remember, that day, the weather was bad and it was snowing. He intruded into Misty Mountain in a panic, cutting a sorry figure. He was unable to leave and accidentally staggered onto the thin layer of ice on the lake’s surface.
I stood on top of a pine tree on the cliff, watching his bloodied body fall into the lake and his desperate struggle in the icy waters before ultimately sinking.
I still remember pulling him out of the lake and pressing on his chest to make him cough out the water. He laid on the ice, looking confused and unfocused. He asked in a hoarse voice, “Are you an immortal?”
I answered, “Yep.”
“Did you come to save me?”
I was silent for a moment because truthfully, I had just chanced upon him while going down the mountain. However, when I saw that he looked like a frightened and hurt animal, my heart softened and I actually nodded my head, “Yep.”
After hearing my answer, he breathed a sigh of relief and after mumbling a word of thanks, he fainted.
At that time, I still did not know what his background was nor what he had experienced. All I thought was that he was very good looking and looked pitiful so I decided to bring him to my little house in the mountain.
I treated his wounds and after he woke up, kept him for a few more days until he could get off the bed. I wanted to send him back, so I asked, “Where are you family members?”
He refused to answer me.
I asked again, “where is your hometown?”
Until the end, he refused to answer me.
I sighed, intending to send him to a random family in a village nearby, letting him lead a stable life. Yet he suddenly grabbed my hand.
I turned to look at him and saw that his eyes hid traces of panic and uneasiness, “Are you going to throw me away?”
He grabbed my hand even tighter. His palms were warm. The opposite of mine. I’ve lived for too long and along with the warmth of my heart, the warmth of my body had also faded away. I was originally a cold person but for some reason, at that moment, I felt compassion for him.
Maybe… it was because his eyes were too beautiful. Or maybe, it was because his voice sounded too nice.
So I took him in and became his master, never questioning him about his past. I told him that after becoming my disciple, he should throw away his past. He agreed, and so I believed him.
I had a very simple way of thinking and that was to raise a disciple now. After practicing for a hundred years or so, no matter how dumb he was, he would still have some achievements. After that, he can inherit my legacy and spread my name across the world. Thinking about how there would still be people in the 3 worlds mentioning my name after my death, I somehow felt a sense of achievement.
But in the end, reality had proven that such simple wishes were just naivety.
My little disciple Qinghan, using the spells he learnt, had burnt away all my naivety.
Qinghan’s learning ability was better than I thought, even faster than me at his age. What others took 5 years to learn took him a mere 3 months. Knowing that he was talented made me even more excited and I put much effort into teaching him.
The outcome of teaching like this was that despite being unable to defeat me in battle, Qinghan became so familiar with me and my habits that he could read the slightest change in my expression and knew what I was thinking.
A hundred years later… he schemed against me, knocked me unconscious, stole my immortal sword and left the mountain.
I was angry that he betrayed me, angrier that he dared make a move against me and even angry that he actually won against me! Nonetheless, what made me the angriest was that this little disciple of mine, after he left the mountain to seek his revenge, actually died.
Without even having a chance to apologise to me…
I still remember, that day, the weather was bad and it was snowing. He intruded into Misty Mountain in a panic, cutting a sorry figure. He was unable to leave and accidentally staggered onto the thin layer of ice on the lake’s surface.
I stood on top of a pine tree on the cliff, watching his bloodied body fall into the lake and his desperate struggle in the icy waters before ultimately sinking.
I still remember pulling him out of the lake and pressing on his chest to make him cough out the water. He laid on the ice, looking confused and unfocused. He asked in a hoarse voice, “Are you an immortal?”
I answered, “Yep.”
“Did you come to save me?”
I was silent for a moment because truthfully, I had just chanced upon him while going down the mountain. However, when I saw that he looked like a frightened and hurt animal, my heart softened and I actually nodded my head, “Yep.”
After hearing my answer, he breathed a sigh of relief and after mumbling a word of thanks, he fainted.
At that time, I still did not know what his background was nor what he had experienced. All I thought was that he was very good looking and looked pitiful so I decided to bring him to my little house in the mountain.
I treated his wounds and after he woke up, kept him for a few more days until he could get off the bed. I wanted to send him back, so I asked, “Where are you family members?”
He refused to answer me.
I asked again, “where is your hometown?”
Until the end, he refused to answer me.
I sighed, intending to send him to a random family in a village nearby, letting him lead a stable life. Yet he suddenly grabbed my hand.
I turned to look at him and saw that his eyes hid traces of panic and uneasiness, “Are you going to throw me away?”
He grabbed my hand even tighter. His palms were warm. The opposite of mine. I’ve lived for too long and along with the warmth of my heart, the warmth of my body had also faded away. I was originally a cold person but for some reason, at that moment, I felt compassion for him.
Maybe… it was because his eyes were too beautiful. Or maybe, it was because his voice sounded too nice.
So I took him in and became his master, never questioning him about his past. I told him that after becoming my disciple, he should throw away his past. He agreed, and so I believed him.
I had a very simple way of thinking and that was to raise a disciple now. After practicing for a hundred years or so, no matter how dumb he was, he would still have some achievements. After that, he can inherit my legacy and spread my name across the world. Thinking about how there would still be people in the 3 worlds mentioning my name after my death, I somehow felt a sense of achievement.
But in the end, reality had proven that such simple wishes were just naivety.
My little disciple Qinghan, using the spells he learnt, had burnt away all my naivety.
Qinghan’s learning ability was better than I thought, even faster than me at his age. What others took 5 years to learn took him a mere 3 months. Knowing that he was talented made me even more excited and I put much effort into teaching him.
The outcome of teaching like this was that despite being unable to defeat me in battle, Qinghan became so familiar with me and my habits that he could read the slightest change in my expression and knew what I was thinking.
A hundred years later… he schemed against me, knocked me unconscious, stole my immortal sword and left the mountain.
I was angry that he betrayed me, angrier that he dared make a move against me and even angry that he actually won against me! Nonetheless, what made me the angriest was that this little disciple of mine, after he left the mountain to seek his revenge, actually died.
Without even having a chance to apologise to me…
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