It’s over, it’s over, what a traitor

Tao Lingling tried the door and found it locked again.

Clearly, her Master wouldn’t be careless.

She must have expected exactly this—wondering how her disciple had managed to open a locked door in the first place.

Under these circumstances, there was no point trying to deceive her Master.

Whether it was an accident or intentional, her Master always saw through things clearly.

Tao Lingling had no choice but to summon her Void Spirit, allowing it to slip through the wooden door and lift the latch from the inside.

Gong Ning could more or less guess the trick her disciple had used.

It wasn’t that she refused to think along those lines—it was that once she did, certain improper conclusions could easily be drawn.

“Come here. Sit down.”

Tao Lingling lowered her head and walked over, obediently kneeling on the floor, careful not to look at her Master.

It wasn’t purely out of guilt—she was afraid that if she saw her Master now, she wouldn’t be able to stop staring.

“…I told you to sit on the chair.”

“Oh.”

After Tao Lingling sat properly, her Master reached out and lifted the hem of her skirt.

Her heart clenched.

But the fabric only rose to her knees before Gong Ning let go—leaving Tao Lingling oddly disappointed.

“If you’re apologizing, there’s no need for such extreme measures.

If I were truly angry, no matter how much you harmed yourself, I wouldn’t pity you.”

Delivering that cold remark, Gong Ning took out some medicinal ointment and carefully applied it to the reddened skin on Tao Lingling’s knees.

“So… Master, you’re not angry?”

Gong Ning paused mid-motion.

She had hoped the matter would quietly fade away, but now her disciple had to go and ask, as if confirming her Master’s feelings would somehow satisfy her.

Gong Ning avoided the question and instead asked, “I’m asking you—did you take my chest binder?”

Tao Lingling’s legs trembled slightly.

She buried her face in her chest and stammered, “Y-yes.”

And this was precisely why Gong Ning had tried so hard not to think in that direction.

When Tao Lingling had first used the Soul Tempering Formula in the arena, Gong Ning had already had a faint suspicion.

But she had chosen to ignore it.

Now that her disciple was repeating such behavior, it had to be addressed directly.

Cultivators valued clarity of mind—ambiguous hesitation was the most irritating thing of all.

“What did you take it for? I don’t think you have any need for a binder.”

Tao Lingling felt a slight sting of personal offense.

But she wasn’t flustered or angry.

She was the type to bloom late.

She might never grow as full-figured as her Master, but she’d certainly surpass Lu Yunling one day.

Only someone like Tang Qiaohuan, a short-statured runt, would panic over such a comment.

But still—how could she answer this?

Lie?

Her Master would see through it instantly.

She could accept any truth—but lies would only disappoint her.

“Disciple… disciple took it to use…”

Gong Ning’s breath hitched.

One thought echoed in her mind.

It’s over. It’s all over.

Memories surged back—scenes from certain works she’d seen in her past life.

A child caught using a senior’s intimate belongings for questionable purposes.

The elder, unable to confront it, pretended ignorance—only for things to grow progressively worse.

*You’re a woman too, aren’t you? Has this modern trend of same-s*x relationships reached the cultivation world now?*

This couldn’t be allowed.

Regardless of gender, it was inappropriate for a younger disciple to develop such feelings for a much older master.

Even if, in the broadest sense, emotions couldn’t always be controlled—admiring a kind, beautiful master was natural.

But daydreaming in private was one thing.

Acting on it was irreversible.

Gong Ning froze, unsure what to say.

Part of her was appalled.

Another part was ashamed.

And yet… a tiny, quiet part of her was pleased?

In her past life, the world had been vast, and she’d seen many things.

In this life, she’d lived long enough to experience much.

But never had she personally encountered something so absurd.

Now, it was happening.

How was she supposed to process her emotions?

Her personal undergarments had been taken by her disciple.

She didn’t even want to ask how they’d been used.

As for that flicker of pleasure—it was only human nature.

Like an older woman keeping a young lover.

She knows his compliments are for her wealth, not her beauty.

Yet she still feels joy—because he is drawn to her, even if it’s because of the money.

Gong Ning wasn’t a saint.

She never claimed to be.

Of course, she couldn’t suppress all emotions.

She believed in “do not do to others what you would not have done to yourself.”

Since she couldn’t demand perfection of herself, she wouldn’t demand it of her disciples.

So she didn’t want to be too harsh with Lingling.

But this was still beyond absurd.

How was she supposed to handle this?

She couldn’t ignore it.

But she couldn’t overreact either.

Just thinking about it, the difficulty rivaled that of a Golden Core tribulation.

A Golden Core breakthrough only required gathering materials and gathering courage.

Teaching a disciple involved countless unpredictable outcomes.

Besides—hadn’t she just told her disciples to see her as a mother figure?

And now, in less than two months, things had already twisted like this?

This disobedient girl…

Gong Ning wondered if this was just an excuse.

Had she, that night, actually intended to sneak in for something improper?

The more she thought about it, the more she feared just how dangerous her disciple might be.

No.

If she wanted to treat the root cause, she had to get a clear answer.

Many things only worsened the longer they were delayed.

“Lingling, you…”

Before she could finish, the door was knocked on again.

“Hey hey hey? Done talking? The wind on the deck is freezing—I’m cold…”

Tang Qiaohuan specialized in all kinds of underhanded tricks, including eavesdropping spells.

This technique could penetrate not just doors, but even soundproof barriers in the hands of a skilled cultivator.

Did her Master really think she could bring things into the open?

Impossible.

Once clarified, where would the ambiguity be?

How could she slowly fall if everything was laid bare?

So Tang Qiaohuan had already prepared.

Interrupted again, Gong Ning sighed.

This girl truly had a demonic aura about her.

“What is it?”

“Those rooms won’t open—their doors have seals…”

Gong Ning finally remembered.

Decades ago, Jiang Yuyao had done this.

Back then, Jiang Yuyao hadn’t been as mature as she was now—her personality had been slightly annoying, yet somewhat endearing.

She’d declared no one should live on the ship, refusing to let others turn her creation into a honeymoon vessel.

So she’d placed seals on the other four rooms, allowing only the ship’s owner and herself to enter.

The seal was simple—anyone stronger than her could break it.

At the time, Gong Ning had planned to just find someone to remove it later.

But one delay led to another—until she became a Sword Immortal.

“Come in.”

The ship had wind-blocking barriers.

Being cold from the wind was likely a lie.

But she couldn’t leave someone outside all night.

Tang Qiaohuan walked in, eyes twinkling with mischief, like a little fox spirit.

She didn’t look cold at all.

She casually sat on the edge of the bed, as if returning to her own home.

Then she opened a drawer and pulled out some wrapped candies, popping them into her mouth.

These were Gong Ning’s old experiments—made from plants that didn’t exist in her past world.

How did she know about them?

This child truly was possessed of some uncanny magic.

Tao Lingling watched as her Master finished applying the ointment and withdrew her hand.

She could only regretfully let her skirt fall back into place.

“Master, what were you about to say earlier?”

“Nothing. Just be mindful of your words and actions from now on.

Don’t do things that make others dislike you.”

With someone else present, how could she possibly continue?

She’d have to wait until they reached the Central Land.

She just hoped she wouldn’t delay again—only for things to spiral further out of control.