Chapter 31

Qing Zhouxue closed the door and leaned against it, letting out a sigh of relief.

She didn't light the lamp again, nor did she return to those books. Sitting cross-legged on the bed with her eyes lowered, she tried to calm her mind and senses.

The books she had read before were pure, and the Daoist scriptures and cultivation manuals she read now were even more empty and desireless. She had thought reading was a way to quiet the heart. But the books Ruan Mingzhu had lent her were completely different—line after line of text steeped in deep passion and desire, clichéd yet fervent, so scorching hot it felt like she could touch fire through the paper.

Qing Zhouxue didn't understand any of this. In her eighteen years of life, she had rarely crossed paths with outsiders. Before she could even learn many of the mundane world's rules, she had already entered the secluded immortal peak.

She closed her eyes, but her heart refused to settle. In the end, she relit the lamp and read aimlessly. Junior Sister Ruan had thoughtfully shared with her the sequel to "The Amorous Widow and Her Sister-in-Law, Volume Two."

Qing Zhouxue bit her lower lip and read to the end with a grave expression.

After the widow and her sister-in-law encountered vicious bandits, they barely escaped disaster, but fortunately, they were rescued by a merchant caravan midway. However, the villagers caught up and said not to interfere in others' family affairs, so the caravan leader, wanting to avoid trouble, abandoned them. They were tied up and taken back to the village, but secretly used stone shards to cut the ropes and escaped together again. Finally, they were chased to a cliff by a crowd with torches, and in full view of everyone, they embraced and jumped.

The ending was somewhat forced—when they woke up, they were in the heavenly court. It turned out they were two star lords who had descended to the mortal world to undergo tribulation, and they finally became a couple. Then followed another earth-shattering, tear-jerking session of passionate, world-turning lovemaking.

【She lowered her head, her gaze sweeping over her soft, elegant neck, then the bed curtain loosened, and their shadows intertwined...】

【In a brief pause between gasps, she asked, why, in the mortal world, did you insist on being with her against all odds?】

【The other laughed and replied: My heart delights in you to the point of madness. Never mind what identity or situation, I'll cross mountains and seas, just for a willing heart.】

Qing Zhouxue looked at the page, her heart fairly calm. She didn't harbor much desire. But as her fingers brushed over the line "what identity, what situation," a figure faintly flashed in her mind, as if she had found an echo of similar stirring in the story.

Yun Shuchen.

She suddenly remembered that under the moonlight lamplight, Yun Shuchen had leaned down to taste that piece of tofu, and her lips had stained a hint of vivid color—like rouge, yet finer than rouge.

But this thought only passed in a flash, like a wild goose leaving no trace.

Qing Zhouxue slept fitfully through the night. When she woke, she was drowsy. She deeply felt that reading such storybooks could easily disturb one's heart and was not conducive to cultivation, so she secretly decided never to read them again.

Today, her master's gaze lingered on her face a moment longer. Suddenly, she raised her sleeve and used her fingers to lift Qing Zhouxue's chin.

Qing Zhouxue was startled. Soft fingertips brushed under her eyes. "It's bruised here."

"Didn't I tell you to sleep earlier?"

"It won't happen again." Qing Zhouxue truly hadn't slept well. Her eyelashes drooped, and her answer drifted slightly.

Even her sword practice today was a bit languid.

She spent the morning and afternoon at the outer sect. She was about to return those storybooks to Ruan Mingzhu when Ruan Mingzhu waved her hand and said her master was confiscating her novels, so these could stay with Qing Zhouxue for now—safer that way.

Qing Zhouxue was carefully thinking about where in her room to store these things. She walked while thinking, but as she passed a door, she heard a ruckus inside, mixed with some vulgar talk, and it seemed she even heard a few familiar names.

The outer sect disciples inside didn't know what was so funny, laughing in unison. Qing Zhouxue pushed the door open, just as scattered papers flew into her face.

The disciples in the classroom saw her and fell silent one by one, the air stilling like dead water.

The young junior brother who had been frantically tidying up at the lectern finally breathed a sigh of relief, but then, seeing it was Qing Zhouxue, immediately tensed up again.

Qing Zhouxue lowered her eyes and peeled the paper off her face. The edges had signs of tearing, suggesting it had been sewn into a small booklet.

She scanned a few lines of text, first stunned, then reading a few more lines, her expression turned icy cold.

It was a page from a storybook, a handwritten draft. This was completely different from the romantic tales she had been reading. The descriptions here were even more vulgar and filthy, seemingly purely to depict those indecent acts, with a few scribbles beside it that looked like some kind of nonsense drawing.

That alone wasn't enough to anger her.

But on the draft, clearly written in large characters, were the names Yun Shuchen and the Sect Leader.

"Who wrote this?" She placed the paper on the desk. Though her tone was very calm, the people beneath inexplicably felt a chill.

A young man dressed in extravagant clothes stood up, crossed his arms, and sneered, "What's wrong, pretty senior sister? My writing is elegant, isn't it? Written well, don't you think?"

Around him came a few suppressed snickers.

"Are there more?" Her expression remained indifferent.

The small booklet was tossed over. Qing Zhouxue caught it steadily. The young man whistled, "A girl shouldn't look at these."

Qing Zhouxue naturally wouldn't look again. She thought of her master's face; even one more glance at this thing felt deeply revolting. The moment the booklet touched her hand, it froze stiffly. She squeezed it hard, and it turned to dust.

The young man's brow furrowed, his gaze darkening. He slapped the tabletop, "How dare you touch my things! Do you know who I am?"

Qing Zhouxue looked at him, slowly tightening her grip on her sword hilt, "Who are you?"

The inner sect junior brother beside her tugged at Qing Zhouxue and whispered, "Senior Sister Qing, this is the young master of the Chen family from Lishui, a prestigious cultivation family. He has good talent, a great family background, and since childhood has... somewhat... advocated freedom. He might enter the inner sect in the future. You'd better—"

"No matter who it is, if they blatantly insult the Sect Leader and elders, what place does that leave for the Taichu laws? The outer sect is not a place to harbor filth." Qing Zhouxue abruptly cut him off, saying coldly, "According to the rules, you don't need to attend classes from now on. Go to the inner sect's Xunjie Hall and accept one hundred strokes of the rod."

"Who do you think you are! Just a temporary overseer for a few days."

The young master lifted his chin, squinting at her, seemingly intent on humiliation: "You're called Qing Zhouxue? No wonder you're Yun Shuchen's disciple. Your master's pretty nice, with that slender waist. I wonder if in bed—"

A chilling sword aura suddenly exploded, smashing the desk and chairs in front of him to pieces. He tumbled to the ground. When he looked up, an ice-cold sword tip was already pressed against his throat.

Following the slender, sharp blade upward, it was the woman's eyes, indifferent and devoid of any warmth.

The surrounding disciples all screamed and scurried away. The inner sect junior brother was so frightened he grabbed a stool for support.

That Young Master Chen had presumably seen some things in his life. He panicked for a moment, then steadied himself, gripping his sword tightly and threatening, "If you dare touch me, tomorrow the Chen family will make you regret it. You're just an inner sect personal disciple with no influence. Who do you think will protect you? I have connections in the Xunjie Hall too. Who would dare hit me?"

He saw Qing Zhouxue sheathe her longsword and thought she was intimidated, revealing a faint sneer.

But then he heard that calm voice say, "If no one else can punish you, then I'll carry out the execution myself."

Saying this, Qing Zhouxue used the sheathed longsword as a rod and viciously struck him on the buttocks. A miserable scream sounded, accompanied by the sound of tables and chairs shattering.

The junior brother beside her was stunned, wanting to pull her back, "Senior Sister Qing, using private punishment is not allowed!"

Qing Zhouxue tightened her grip on the sword, unmoved, "No matter. After I'm done, I'll willingly accept my own punishment."

The young master was dazed by the first hit. It took a few more strikes for him to struggle to his feet, drawing the sword at his waist to fight back.

But his pathetic swordsmanship in the eyes of an inner sect true disciple was nothing more than embroidery. Qing Zhouxue's next strike sent the sword flying from his hand. She pinned him down and continued, unrelenting, with several more strokes.

At first, the young man's face was pressed against the ground, cursing her with every insult he knew. Qing Zhouxue didn't let go, as if she hadn't heard. Then he began to beg for mercy in a daze, but she remained unmoved. Until finally, the man spat blood and passed out, yet the rod punishment still didn't stop.

She kept her word—one hundred strokes meant one hundred, not one more, not one less.

The junior brother beside her dared not make another sound.

Ruan Mingzhu heard the commotion from afar and rushed over. By the time she arrived, the tables and chairs here were smashed to pieces, and Qing Zhouxue had just wiped the sticky blood off her sword sheath. On the ground amid the wood shavings lay an unconscious thing.

"Senior Sister?" She froze at the door, "What happened? Is this brat dead?"

"Don't know." Qing Zhouxue reattached her sword to her waist. Only after confirming all those drafts were destroyed did the coldness in her eyes fade considerably.

She looked at Ruan Mingzhu. "I'm going to accept my punishment. Junior Sister, please take care of the outer sect supervision for the next few days."

With those words, the white-robed figure left, proud and aloof, chillingly cold.

Ruan Mingzhu was stunned. She wanted to call out and ask for an explanation, but seeing Qing Zhouxue's forbidding expression, she gave up.

*

Yun Shuchen was originally brewing tea in the courtyard when a flashy figure jumped down from the wall and meowed a few times: "Trouble! Little master is at the Xunjie Hall."

"What is she doing there?" The hand sifting the tea paused.

Qing Zhouxue was usually gentle and well-mannered, so Yun Shuchen couldn't immediately connect violating the Taichu laws with her own disciple.

After all, she was her only personal disciple. Upon hearing the news, she naturally went to check.

As soon as Yun Shuchen entered, she saw that white figure kneeling upright in the center, neither humble nor arrogant.

The Sect Leader had also come. Looking up and seeing Yun Shuchen, he let out an almost inaudible sigh, "Junior Sister Yun, what's wrong with your disciple? No matter what question I ask, she won't say a word. Forget it, you talk to her."

"What happened?" Yun Shuchen curved her lips, looking at Qing Zhouxue, "She's usually so obedient. What could she possibly do wrong?"

The disciplinary disciple was momentarily at a loss, then had the barely-alive Young Master Chen carried in. A faint smell of blood immediately filled the entire hall. The disciple stammered, "We heard Junior Sister Qing destroyed countless tables and chairs in the outer sect, and then beat this outer sect disciple like this. This..."

Yun Shuchen glanced over. The man's buttocks and back were limp and soft, covered in bruises of purple and green—seemingly not sword wounds but blunt force trauma. It was unbearable to look at.

It was hard to imagine her usually refined disciple had done this.

She flicked her sleeve to dismiss the thing, placed one hand on Qing Zhouxue's shoulder, and said gently, "Did you hit him?"

"Yes." Qing Zhouxue didn't move.

"Why did you hit him?"

She pressed her lips together, glanced at Yun Shuchen, and said nothing more.