The Thousand-Layer Schemes of the Sickly Beautiful Master - Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Through Little Qilin’s beastly eyes, a golden light symbolizing the metal spirit root flashed and then faded. Next, a green light glowed briefly before it too went out.

A cold blue light, representing the water spirit root, shone for an unusually long time.

Just when they thought she had a water spirit root, the beast blinked, the blue light vanished, and it turned to fire.

Yun Shuchen was slightly surprised. Not a water spirit root?

But Qing Zhuxue showed no affinity for the other four elements.

As the lights of the five elements lit up and faded one by one, Little Qilin’s eyes widened, staring at the girl in disbelief. It tilted its neck, shook off Qing Zhuxue’s hand, and shrank behind the Sect Leader, shaking its head timidly.

“Strange,” the Sect Leader said, stroking his chin. “There’s no five-element spirit root that a Qilin beast can’t see. What’s wrong with this child?”

“She has no spirit root,” Little Qilin replied in a soft voice. “Very odd.”

When Qing Zhuxue heard this, she looked up at Yun Shuchen’s expression. Elder Yun seemed lost in thought, her eyes lowered, showing no clear joy or anger.

A moment later, a hand rested on Qing Zhuxue’s head, and a gentle voice said, “Come, let’s go back.”

On the way, Qing Zhuxue frowned, while Yun Shuchen acted as if nothing had happened, even asking her what she wanted to eat when they returned.

At the door, Yun Shuchen’s sleeve was lightly tugged and then quickly released.

The little girl lowered her eyes and hands, keeping a proper distance, her lips slightly pursed. Then she said softly, “Without a spirit root, I can never cultivate in this lifetime.”

She had read all those books over the years and understood this truth.

“Will you still keep me?”

The air grew quiet for a moment. Qing Zhuxue’s heart tightened slightly. Though she had already guessed the outcome, she couldn’t help hoping for a slim chance.

“If you truly cannot cultivate, I won’t keep you.”

“Taichu Realm doesn’t raise idle people.”

The woman’s voice was soft, but her words were cold. “Besides, it’s nearly impossible to pass the inner sect trials like this.”

The last faint hope shattered.

That night, Qing Zhuxue lay in bed, tossing and turning, unable to sleep, troubled by rare worries that kept her awake.

Uncertainty about the future. If she couldn’t stay here, the world was vast, but she had no one to rely on and nowhere else to go.

Her cultivation was still at the Foundation Building stage.

Over the years, she had studied many cultivation methods and tried them, but she could never absorb the spiritual energy of heaven and earth. It was like sand in her hand— no matter how tightly she gripped, it slipped away.

At first, she thought it was her lack of understanding, but now… it was a problem with her innate condition.

Even the Foundation Building cultivation in her body likely wasn’t hers but came from a bowl of foundation-strengthening medicine Yun Shuchen had given her.

Tossing and turning, she had never felt time pass so slowly. The moonlight shifted a few inches but couldn’t reach the window.

Suddenly, two or three scratching sounds came from the door, like a cat. Qing Zhuxue’s heart jumped. She got out of bed, cracked the door open, and saw Ah Jin.

“The master calls for you,” Ah Jin said, seemingly worried, sticking close to her feet as they walked to Yun Shuchen’s door. Lowering its voice, it said, “Don’t worry. If you really can’t cultivate, I’ll talk to the master. Maybe you can stay and help me with chores like picking vegetables or cleaning…”

“Stop talking. I can hear you,” came a faint voice from inside the room. The cat jumped, startled, and scrambled up the wall.

Qing Zhuxue took a deep breath, knocked politely a few times, and opened the door.

Elder Yun wasn’t in bed but leaned against her carved pearwood chair, fresh from a bath, her dark hair loose, framing her striking features.

On the table were several small wooden pieces, etched with mysterious patterns.

Yun Shuchen raised her hand, signaling her to sit.

“My cat’s already planned a backup for you. What do you think?” she asked, lips curved, elegant and carefree, as if nothing troubled her.

“It’s pretty good,” Qing Zhuxue said sincerely, quietly lifting her eyes, only to meet Elder Yun’s calm glance.

She paused, then shook her head wisely.

Yun Shuchen observed her. The girl seemed calm, sitting upright across from her, exuding an obedient air. “I’ll follow Elder’s decision.”

“You don’t seem too upset.”

If an ordinary young girl faced such a loss, she’d likely be crushed by now.

“Being upset is useless and won’t change the result. It’s better to think less and feel less,” the little girl said calmly, lowering her eyelashes.

Yun Shuchen didn’t comment.

She pressed a wooden piece with her fingertip, moving it aside, and neatly arranged the scattered fragments. Her pale, jade-like hand stood out against the dark brown wood. Qing Zhuxue stared at the complex divination patterns but found her gaze drifting to Yun Shuchen’s hand.

She asked, “Do you know what this is?”

“It’s a divination.”

“Hmm.” Yun Shuchen withdrew her hand. “This is a divination I cast for myself.”

“And all its signs point to you.”

“Me?” Qing Zhuxue froze.

Elder Yun pushed the divination pieces, scattering them again. She rose, sweeping her sleeve, and slowly walked to Qing Zhuxue’s side.

Qing Zhuxue turned her head as a hand rested on her shoulder, pressing down gently with some force. A strand of hair fell, brushing her cheek.

“You cannot be unable to cultivate.”

Her voice was soft as smoke by her ear, yet her words were firm. “I don’t believe in you, but in the divination I cast myself. And I believe the Heavenly Dao wouldn’t fear an ordinary girl so much.”

Qing Zhuxue looked down at the teacup on the table, its clear surface reflecting the woman’s stunning face behind her, and her own.

“Then,” she frowned slightly, “my spirit root…”

“There’s a method no one has ever tried.”

Yun Shuchen stepped back. “For you, it might be life-threatening, a gamble. Success means you’re on the right path; failure means death. It’s the only way I can think of. Are you willing to try?”

Perhaps it was cruel to make a fourteen-year-old decide this.

But the path to immortality is long, and every cultivator’s tribulation is a struggle at the edge of life and death, reborn from bl00d and mud.

No one can guarantee perfect preparation every time.

A coward unwilling to gamble, no matter how talented, won’t go far.

“Think it over carefully. I’ll give you one day. If you’re unwilling, I won’t force you. You can leave the mountain and live as a mortal—it’s not so bad.”

“If you’re willing to try, be at One Dream Cliff tomorrow at dawn.”

…

Qing Zhuxue returned to her room, kicked off her shoes, arranged them neatly, and lay back on the bed. She touched the finely crafted quilt, its outward side embroidered with silver thread.

Even a scrap of cloth here was more luxurious than any clothes she’d ever worn. Thanks to Yun Shuchen’s care, she had lived worry-free for six years, better than any of her first eight years.

Her original reason for coming here, following her father’s words, was to find a place for food and shelter. She had far exceeded that goal. Later, reading about the laws of the Dao, the five elements, and the balance of nature, she was captivated by their harmony and wonder—partly for passing exams, but without interest, she wouldn’t have rushed to outer sect classes every morning.

To stop here would leave regrets.

Then there was her promise to be Yun Shuchen’s disciple. She had nothing to repay her with, so she wouldn’t forget this.

Even if she died, so what?

She had no family left, only owing Yun Shuchen years of kindness, and her death wouldn’t affect anyone else. She was truly free of ties.

Qing Zhuxue didn’t take long to decide. The next morning at dawn, she stood on time at the peak of One Dream Cliff.

The fog had cleared, the sky bright. Golden light shone, making the distant mountains glow.

Elder Yun was already there, hands behind her back, hair tied loosely with a ribbon, swaying in the wind.

Hearing footsteps, she turned and nodded. “Since you’re here, let’s begin.”

Qing Zhuxue stepped forward, standing with her at the cliff’s edge.

Below was a bottomless abyss—falling meant certain death.

Yun Shuchen remained calm, but Qing Zhuxue, unable to ride clouds, trembled slightly at the cliff’s edge, instinctively grabbing a piece of Yun Shuchen’s robe.

“Let go of me,” the woman said softly. “Close your eyes. It’s fine.”

She slowly released her grip and obeyed. Before she could react, a push on her shoulder sent her plummeting like a struck bird, the wind roaring past, drowning out all sound.

As Qing Zhuxue fell rapidly, her heart pounded, bl00d rushing, her mind dazed.

These were the last seconds of her life.

That thought drifted through her blank mind.

A book once said that before death, one’s life flashes like a lantern reel. But her life was pitifully short. A few vivid memories—her father’s face, Yun Shuchen’s figure—flickered before sinking back into chaos.

The ground grew closer, the world reduced to her heartbeat. Thump, thump.

It pounded in her chest, thrummed in her ears, surged through every vein, fierce as a flood, like the tidal bore of the Qiantang River.

Human reason collapsed, leaving only the primal survival instinct all creatures share, seizing control of her body.

Her meager Foundation Building strength poured out, desperately trying to let the wind lift her, to slow her fall.

But it was like a stone sinking in the sea—her weak power only stirred the wind briefly before fading.

The ground drew nearer.

Her vision blurred, her heart numb with despair.