The Beloved Master's Mad Dog Disciple - Chapter 22

Master, please give me a ride.

Upon reflection, it seemed to work this way: the more Feng Jinyue feared Bo Xuenong would kill her, the louder and clearer her thoughts became. Occasionally, when the mental noise grew particularly overwhelming, the Dead System’s voice would chime in as well. The sudden silence just now was because she had hidden behind Feng Yingbo, whose presence had calmed her fear.

Bo Xuenong began to wonder if she should deliberately scare Feng Jinyue to eavesdrop on more of her thoughts.

Noticing Bo Xuenong’s increasingly serious expression, Feng Jinyue’s mental clamor intensified. She shifted from clutching Feng Yingbo’s sleeve to leaning against her.

Feng Yingbo sensed her distress and turned back, asking anxiously, “Jin’er, what’s wrong?”

What do you think?! Eldest Senior Sister scared me half to death! My heart’s racing and my legs are weak! Someone save me!

Feng Jinyue’s thoughts screamed inwardly, though her face remained composed.

She nudged Feng Yingbo’s shoulder with her head and murmured, “Master, are you done talking? If you are… would you carry me back?”

Feng Yingbo was taken aback but clearly pleased. Her lips curved into a smile, though she grumbled, “You’re too old to be carried.”

“If you won’t carry me, then fine.”

Feng Jin was like a sensitive hedgehog, her quills bristling at the slightest provocation.

She refused to let Feng Yingbo carry her any longer, distancing herself and slowly shuffling toward the exit.

Perhaps her legs had truly gone weak from fright, as her steps were unsteady and wavering.

Seeing her struggling to move, Bo Xuenong felt compelled to reassure her that she had no such terrifying impulses.

Feng Yingbo quickly caught up and grabbed Feng Jin’s arm. “Such a small person with such a big temper.”

Despite being a Nascent Soul Stage cultivator, Feng Yingbo was only slightly taller than Feng Jin and appeared delicate and soft. Yet she effortlessly hoisted Feng Jin onto her back. Feng Jin clung to Feng Yingbo’s back, remaining still but protesting, “I asked you earlier, and you didn’t answer. Now I don’t want you to carry me.”

Bo Xuenong found Feng Jin’s petty behavior toward her elder quite inappropriate, but Feng Yingbo, the accused, chuckled. “Alright, Jin’er. Then Master will beg you—please let Master carry you back, okay?”

Feng Jin reluctantly nodded. “Fine.”

“You…” Feng Yingbo scolded playfully. “I really don’t know who you take after.”

Feng Yingbo didn’t hear Feng Jin’s reply, but Bo Xuenong did, through Feng Jin’s thoughts.

Her personality was shaped by her past life. As for her appearance… she’s a replica, so who else would she resemble but the Female Lead?

Hmm? Who did she say she resembled? The Female Lead?

Yu Cenwan?

Bo Xuenong retrieved Yu Cenwan’s portrait again. Gazing at that dignified face, which radiated coldness, she noticed a striking resemblance to Feng Jin, especially when both wore stern expressions. Their facial contours became particularly sharp. However, Feng Jin’s features were still developing, lacking the exquisite, painterly refinement of Yu Cenwan’s. Perhaps spending so much time with Feng Yingbo had softened her features slightly.

The resemblance was only about thirty to forty percent, but it was undeniable.

Bo Xuenong suddenly recalled hearing Feng Jin’s thoughts about her relationship to the Female Lead earlier. Because Feng Jin hadn’t been as guarded then, she hadn’t caught the full context and had tried to guess.

A replica.

A replica of what?

Bo Xuenong was so absorbed in her thoughts that she didn’t even notice Fu Yunqing leaving Warm Moon Hall. Only Shen Yanting and Bo Xuenong remained in the hall. Shen Yanting didn’t wake Bo Xuenong, standing silently beside her as they both gazed in the direction Feng Yingbo and Feng Jin had just departed.

Shen Yanting, unaware that Bo Xuenong was pondering Feng Jin’s appearance, assumed she was simply envying the close master-disciple relationship between Feng Yingbo and Feng Jin.

The recent incident had revealed Bo Xuenong’s weak will to live, leading Shen Yanting to suspect that her own coldness toward Bo Xuenong might be to blame.

For years, Shen Yanting had followed Mo Tingshu’s instructions, diligently teaching Bo Xuenong while never fully treating her as a true disciple. Her original nature had nothing to do with aloofness; after deliberately maintaining a cold facade for five centuries, she had nearly forgotten her true self from her days at the Cloudmist Sect. Yet she remembered that her relationship with her own Master had been far from cold—rather, it had resembled the affectionate bond between Feng Yingbo and Feng Jin, where she could freely express her temper.

Shen Yanting had long sensed a problem in her relationship with Bo Xuenong, but today she felt a strong urge to change the status quo.

The very thing Mo Tingshu had feared had come to pass: Shen Yanting not only couldn’t bring herself to kill Bo Xuenong, but she also couldn’t bear the thought of her dying at someone else’s hands.

Her feigned aloofness was merely a facade, unable to stem the gradual softening of her heart.

She couldn’t deceive herself any longer: she needed Bo Xuenong to live.

Bo Xuenong lacked any desire for life and possessed an exceptional talent for self-harm. This was partly due to her bloodline, but Shen Yanting couldn’t deny her own responsibility in the matter.

Shen Yanting regretted not having learned how to be a proper master. She regretted even more that, despite having a perfect example right beside her, she had never considered learning from it. She moved closer to Bo Xuenong. “Nong’er, let me carry you back.”

Her sudden suggestion startled Bo Xuenong out of her reverie. Bo Xuenong looked up in confusion, only to realize that everyone from Warm Moon Hall had already left. There was no one left to ask about the situation.

Shen Yanting’s offer to carry her was undoubtedly a good thing. Bo Xuenong had once fantasized about breaking her own legs just to have the chance to climb onto Shen Yanting’s back. Yet now that Shen Yanting was actually offering to carry her, she felt a surge of panic. Her legs were perfectly fine, and she was physically unharmed—how could she possibly trouble her master?

Bo Xuenong blinked rapidly twice, took a half-step back, and shook her head. “Master, no!”

“Why not?” Shen Yanting was determined to close the distance between herself and Bo Xuenong. She retrieved the Heavenly Talent Register from Bo Xuenong’s palm and pointed in the direction Feng Yingbo had just carried Feng Jin. “Junior Sister Feng just carried Xiao Jin away.”

She wanted to say that if other master-disciple pairs could do it, so could they.

Bo Xuenong was thoroughly startled by her suggestion, shaking her head vehemently in refusal.

She pointed to her own face, trying to tell Shen Yanting that she wasn’t a ten-year-old child. But the words caught in her throat, her snow-white face flushing crimson with urgency. “Master… I…”

For any other matter, even if it meant her death, she would never refuse Shen Yanting. But this—Shen Yanting carrying her on her back—was unacceptable.

Her Master was a lofty immortal, meant to remain eternally high above, not to stoop and bend her back for her sake.

Bo Xuenong felt no envy for the way Feng Yingbo and Feng Jin interacted. She still believed they didn’t behave like proper master and disciple. What kind of disciple would throw daily tantrums at their master, and what kind of master would eagerly await their disciple’s daily displays of affection?

After a long struggle, Bo Xuenong finally came up with a more reasonable explanation. “Master, I’m not like Sixth Junior Sister. She still has the body of a ten-year-old child, but I don’t. I’m already five hundred and four years old, with fully functional limbs and excellent health. It shouldn’t be Master caring for her disciple anymore; it’s time for the disciple to show filial piety to her Master.”

Shen Yanting paused, then nodded gently. “Very well.”

“Good? What’s good?”

Bo Xuenong didn’t immediately understand. Shen Yanting calmly pointed to her back. “Nong’er, carry me on your back.”

Shen Yanting had resolved to close the distance between master and disciple. Lacking a concrete plan, she relied on imitation, adapting her approach to the situation. For instance, when she realized Bo Xuenong’s words were correct, she immediately shifted her strategy.

Her expression remained serene as she stood motionless, patiently awaiting Bo Xuenong’s reaction.

“I’ll carry Master!” Bo Xuenong froze for a moment, her mind racing, before exclaiming with delight, “Yes!”

When Shen Yanting had asked to be carried, Bo Xuenong had vehemently refused.

But when Shen Yanting ordered her to carry her, she didn’t hesitate for a second.

Bo Xuenong stepped in front of Shen Yanting, her knees bending slightly and her waist bowing low. She stretched her arms behind her, ready to catch Shen Yanting at any moment, and called out loudly, “Please mount, Master!”

Shen Yanting’s composure finally cracked. Her eyelids twitched violently, and she desperately wanted to take back her suggestion.

Bo Xuenong didn’t notice that the one now terrified was Shen Yanting. Seeing her Master hesitate, she turned back with a puzzled look. “Master?”

Shen Yanting remained frozen. After a moment’s contemplation, Bo Xuenong suggested, “Master, if being carried on my back is uncomfortable, how about you sit on a chair, and I’ll carry you back that way?”

The more Bo Xuenong thought about it, the more she liked her idea, nodding approvingly to herself.

“……” Shen Yanting couldn’t bring herself to ask why Bo Xuenong had suggested carrying her on a chair instead of simply holding her. Of course, she didn’t accept the proposal either. She quickly stepped forward, wrapped her arms around Bo Xuenong’s neck, and pressed her chest against her back. “Being carried on your back is fine.”