Fight for her!

Three days had passed since Lu Yunling became her disciple.

Tomorrow was the trial.

The transfer and roster were finalized—everything in place.

But one person was frantic.

Tang Qiaohuan.

No one in the Heart-Sword Hall was more anxious.

Because her Master didn’t like her anymore.

In her past life, no matter how outrageous her actions were—as long as she didn’t cross the line, her Master would always indulge her.

But now? No indulgence at all.

Not even affection—just a hint of dislike.

At first, she thought her Master was just shy—so she needed stronger medicine.

But then she realized: Lu Yunling, who had once fought Lingling, could join the team and become a disciple so easily.

Yet her Master ignored her completely—didn’t even give a reason for rejection.

Tang Qiaohuan finally understood.

She was doomed.

How? Wasn’t she the one who understood her Master the most?

Or was she the one who understood least?

Staring at the manuscript she’d just finished—already circulating across Xuantian Peak—Tang Qiaohuan made her decision.

Waste Immortal—discontinued!

Because of Tianjian Pavilion’s schemes, Lingling’s reputation was temporarily ruined.

As the disciple who inspired the book’s protagonist, that naturally affected her.

And originally, she’d written it to improve her Master’s image—stop Tianjian Pavilion from interfering.

That goal was achieved.

No point in continuing.

She tore the manuscript apart—fingers clutching the scraps.

This was her work for over half a year.

Every word carried her hidden feelings.

She’d written her Master as a cold-outside, warm-inside protector.

The disciple as a deeply favored little apprentice.

Even the villains bore the faces of Tianjian Pavilion’s members—she’d arranged them perfectly.

No more indulging in this fantasy.

Fixing her relationship with her Master was more important!

She was still fired up when the door opened.

It was Lu Yunling.

Lu Yunling stood at the door, tall and straight in her moon-white sword robe.

Seeing her hands full of torn paper, she raised an eyebrow.
“Third Sister, what are you doing?
A good manuscript—why tear it up?”

She knelt, carefully gathering the scraps.
“This book is hard to get.
I don’t have many friends.
No time to search since coming to the Heart-Sword Hall.
I wanted you to give me one.
Tearing it up is such a waste.”

Tang Qiaohuan blinked. “You read it?”

“Of course.
A book based on me and my Master?
Quite interesting.”

“Based on you? Don’t flatter yourself.”

“Are you the prototype?
You wouldn’t even dare write yourself in.”

Tang Qiaohuan couldn’t deny it.

The book’s disciple was a fusion of three people—events, actions, mistakes all merged.

But her part was the smallest.

Lu Yunling picked up all the scraps, organized them, and tossed them into the wastebasket.

“You’ve bullied her enough.
Look at how she treats you now—you know your fault.
I’m the senior sister.
I see you as family.
So I can overlook your small teasing.”

Seeing her silent, Lu Yunling continued:
“I understand your thoughts.
You always feel your Master doesn’t care enough.
So you try to imitate my reliability, Lingling’s playfulness.”

No wonder she was the senior sister—she saw right through everything Tang Qiaohuan had done.

Lu Yunling was the most capable—so her Master trusted her.

Lingling was the most troublesome—so her Master cared for her.

But Tang Qiaohuan?
Always overlooked.

“What should I do?”

No matter how stubborn, when faced with a problem, people instinctively leaned on someone they trusted.

But Lu Yunling shook her head.
“I don’t know.
If I tell you to be sincere—you already are.
If I tell you to fake it—your Master will see through it.”

“Hmph.
In the end, I have to fight for it myself.
There’s a new volume under my bed.
Take one however you like.”

Tang Qiaohuan walked out of the bedroom.

Her Master was in the pavilion, reading the Azure Cloud Sword Flight Formula, paper and brush on the table.

Though it was an unfamiliar technique, she was still studying it—just to teach this disciple well.

Tang Qiaohuan slowly approached.

She saw her Master’s profile bathed in afternoon sunlight—her steps unconsciously slowed.

Today, her Master hadn’t tied her hair high.

Just a simple white jade hairpin loosely holding it, a few strands falling by her temples—gilded by sunlight.

When she lowered her eyes to read, her long lashes trembled like butterfly wings, casting soft shadows.

It softened the usual coldness in her gaze—adding a hint of warmth.

The hidden cloud patterns on her collar shimmered in the light—making her seem surrounded by a faint glow.

From afar, she looked like a celestial descending to earth—untouchable, not to be disturbed.

“Master… Elder, am I… really that annoying?”

Gong Ning looked up, momentarily stunned.

She closed the book, silent for a moment before speaking—her voice softer than usual.
“Why ask this?”

“You treat me differently than others.”

Gong Ning thought this was another one of her games.

But she also feared the girl was truly upset—had suffered some hidden pain.

Fine.

If it was a game, let her play.

“There’s no difference.
You live here.
I haven’t driven you out.
Haven’t scolded you.”

She’d even indulged her a few times.

“Then why won’t you take me as a disciple?
Can’t be because of my fox spirit blood, right?”

“It’s not that.
Our ways of doing things are too different.
I can teach you skills—but I could never raise you properly.”

Tang Qiaohuan leaned closer—her knees nearly touching Gong Ning’s robe.

She could clearly see the strands of hair tangled in her Master’s jade hairpin—even the thin skin of her earlobe was faintly pink.

She wanted to say something—but couldn’t.

Because of her Master’s face.

In her past life, she’d been accepted as a disciple because her fox blood was exposed.

Her Master couldn’t bear to see her rejected—so she took her in.

This life, those problems had to be avoided.

But that meant losing her only chance to enter.

Fine.

Thinking too much about these complicated things—wasn’t like her.

Tang Qiaohuan suddenly leaned forward—pressing a quick kiss to Gong Ning’s cheek.

Light as a feather—carrying the sweet scent of a girl’s hair.

Gong Ning was only slightly startled—then grew indifferent.

She wiped her cheek with her palm.

So she was being played with.

She’d been tricked by this girl again.

Tang Qiaohuan noticed her Master glancing toward the house—realizing she was more concerned about whether Lu Yunling had seen.

“Hmph. Just you wait.”

Fight for it.
Fight for it all.
If you don’t like me—I’ll take it myself!

Gong Ning watched her leave, feeling utterly baffled.

She didn’t think too much.

Tomorrow was the trial.

She had to focus entirely on Lu Yunling.

It was a pity Lingling wasn’t here.

She wondered what she was doing—only hoped she wasn’t suffering.