Shen Qingci didn't sleep all night, spending half the time sorting through the original's memories for plot points and sect secrets, and the other half pondering "disciple-doting strategies and action guides." He clearly knew that Ling Xuan's darkening wasn't instantaneous, but a long tragedy built up by pain and betrayal—the original's abuse was the root cause, the sect disciples' exclusion was the push, the exposure of his origins was the trigger, and the final straw was the original personally handing Ling Xuan over to the master of Chixia Peak as a cultivation cauldron to curry favor. Each step pushed this already lonely young man further into an abyss of eternal damnation.
To survive, to change the ending, he had to break this fate, completely warm Ling Xuan's heart, and prevent him from turning dark. But how easy was that? Ling Xuan had been lonely since childhood, never experiencing kindness, and the original had carved deep scars in his heart. Getting him to let down his guard and open his heart was undoubtedly as difficult as reaching the heavens. Shen Qingci rubbed his throbbing temples and complained to the air: "If I'd known transmigrating would involve such complicated relationships, I shouldn't have criticized the author. Wouldn't it have been better to just quietly edit manuscripts?" Complaints aside, he still had to steel himself and implement his disciple-doting plan.
As dawn broke and a faint fish-belly white appeared on the horizon, Shen Qingci, with heavy dark circles under his eyes, personally went to Yuling Peak's alchemy room. The original's alchemy room was spacious and bright, filled with various alchemy tools and spiritual herbs. The shelves in the corner were neatly arranged with finished pills, and the air was filled with a rich fragrance of spiritual herbs. Thanks to the original's memories, Shen Qingci was well-versed in alchemy and handled it with ease, even more meticulously than the original—after all, this was a matter of life and death, and he couldn't be careless in the slightest.
He took several gentle spiritual herbs and pulled out a thousand-year snow lotus, a treasure the original had hoarded, originally intended for refining advanced pills to stabilize his own cultivation. Shen Qingci gritted his teeth and still ground the snow lotus, mixing it with the spiritual herbs, personally refining warming pills. He deliberately adjusted the formula, weakening the aggressive nature of the spiritual energy and increasing the gentle nourishing effects, ensuring the pills could both dispel the lingering cold in Ling Xuan's body and nourish his meridians, which were slightly fragile from years of freezing, without burdening his not-yet-stable cultivation.
When the pills were finished, they were wrapped in rich, gentle spiritual energy, with a lustrous white color and mellow fragrance. Just smelling them made one feel comfortable all over—definitely not comparable to the inferior products laced with ingredients that the original had given Ling Xuan. Shen Qingci carefully placed the pills in a jade bottle, then remembered a detail from the original's memories—Ling Xuan had once stolen a piece of spiritual rice cake from the kitchen in his previous life. It was the sweetest thing he had ever eaten from childhood, but he had only taken one bite before the original discovered him. The original had thrown the rice cake to the ground and crushed it underfoot, coldly laughing and calling him "a lowly person, unworthy of such things." The flash of loss and despair in the boy's eyes at that moment now made Shen Qingci's heart ache a little.
He immediately ordered a maid to prepare a basket of spiritual rice cakes from the kitchen, specifically instructing her to choose the finest spiritual rice, with moderate sweetness, and to bring them while still hot. The maid paused in surprise—all the disciples of Yuling Peak knew that the peak master detested sweet things, and such pastries were never allowed in his hall, let alone specially prepared for a disciple. But she didn't dare ask questions and could only respectfully agree before turning to go to the kitchen. Watching the maid's retreating back, Shen Qingci cleared his throat and justified it to himself: "I'm not being good to him. It's just that if his body breaks down and no one cultivates to show off for me, it'll delay my self-preservation progress."
Once everything was ready, Shen Qingci picked up the food box and slowly walked toward Ling Xuan's residence. Ling Xuan's residence was in the most remote corner of Yuling Peak, far from the main hall and other disciples' quarters—a simple small bamboo hut. The bamboo hut's courtyard wall was mottled and dilapidated, the roof still covered with last night's snow. The yard was piled with firewood that the original had ordered him to chop yesterday. The axe was embedded in the wood, and the firewood was stacked unevenly, clearly because he had been too frozen to continue last night and had stopped to rest early.
Looking at this dilapidated scene, Shen Qingci couldn't help cursing the original again in his heart. Both were people of Yuling Peak, yet the original lived in jade-white halls with carved beams and painted rafters, wore silk and satin, and ate delicacies, while Ling Xuan, as his only disciple, lived worse than servant disciples. No wonder the young man harbored resentment. He cleared his throat, suppressing the emotions in his heart, trying to make his tone sound flat and fitting for a master: "Ling Xuan."
The young man organizing firewood in the yard paused, his hand gripping the wood tightening abruptly, knuckles white, slowly turning around. The morning light fell on his thin profile, making the wariness in his eyes even more obvious. Fine dewdrops still clung to his long eyelashes, making that pale little face appear even more fragile. When he saw the food box in Shen Qingci's hand, his eyes instantly turned colder, and he subconsciously hid his hands behind his back, as if guarding against some sudden harm. The aura around him became even more distant.
In Ling Xuan's understanding, the master had never shown him the slightest kindness. The last time he had accidentally gone berserk during cultivation and damaged his meridians, the master had given him a "healing pill" that made him writhe in pain on his bed all night, nearly severing his meridians. The last time at the sect's grand ceremony, when other disciples had pastries bestowed by their masters, the piece in his hand was mixed with bitter powder that was hard to swallow. The master had stood by, coldly watching his miserable struggle to swallow it, the mockery and disgust in his eyes something Ling Xuan would never forget. This time, the master had personally brought a food box to find him, with braziers, pills, and pastries—there must be an even more malicious trick hidden, perhaps wanting to appease him first, then find an opportunity to torment him properly.
Shen Qingci held the food box out to him, trying to make his tone gentler, removing some of the deliberately feigned coldness, yet not daring to be too enthusiastic, afraid of causing Ling Xuan's aversion: "Yesterday I punished you by making you freeze in the Icy Ravine. These are warming pills, personally refined by me. They can dispel the cold in your body. There are also some spiritual rice cakes. Eat them while they're hot, to nourish your body." Afraid Ling Xuan wouldn't believe him, he added, his tone carrying a barely perceptible note of pleading, even actively picking up a warming pill and holding it out to Ling Xuan. "Look, I'm willing to give it to you, so it's naturally not poisonous—I don't want my disciple dying on the peak and giving me a reputation for abusing disciples."
That last deliberately added line successfully maintained his "harsh words" persona. Ling Xuan stared at the pill in his hand, then looked at the steaming spiritual rice cakes in the food box, his eyes dark, not reaching out for a long time. He could tell that the master's tone and demeanor today were different from usual—no caustic mockery, no disgusted eyes, but instead a trace of panic he couldn't read, even a hint of caution, as if afraid he would refuse. But the wounds of the past were too deep, like scars carved into bone. Every time they were about to heal, the original would tear them open again, leaving him in agony. This bone-deep wariness made him dare not easily trust this sudden gentleness, afraid it was just another fleeting mockery.
Seeing this, Shen Qingci sighed inwardly, knowing he couldn't rush it. He simply placed the food box on the stone table in the yard, picked up a piece of spiritual rice cake, and took a big bite. The sweet, glutinous spiritual energy melted in his mouth, carrying a faint fragrance of spiritual herbs, soft and sweet. Cheeks puffed out, he said indistinctly: "Look, I've eaten it, it's really fine. This spiritual rice cake tastes pretty good. You should try it too—it's a waste to leave it, so you might as well fill your stomach, so you won't be weak during cultivation later and make me worry." A bit of cake powder stuck to the corner of his mouth, adding a touch of worldly charm to the usually cold immortal master's appearance, which slightly relaxed Ling Xuan's tense nerves.
Ling Xuan's Adam's apple moved slightly. His gaze fell on the cake powder at the corner of Shen Qingci's mouth, then quickly moved away, landing on the food box on the stone table. He had been lonely since childhood. When struggling to survive in the mass grave, even moldy coarse grain was hard to come by, let alone such sweet spiritual rice cakes. That stolen bite in his previous life was the only sweetness he had ever known. Now, smelling the familiar fragrance, the desire in his heart almost broke through reason, but that wariness still made him hesitate to move.
He stood in place, his whole body still somewhat shivering, but unlike usual, he didn't immediately lower his head. Instead, he raised his eyes, his pitch-black eyes looking directly at Shen Qingci, carrying a hint of scrutiny and testing: "Why is Master... treating this disciple like this today?" His voice was very light, carrying a barely perceptible tremor, both a longing for warmth and a fear of betrayal, like an injured little beast that clearly longed to approach warmth but was afraid of being hurt again.
Shen Qingci's heart skipped a beat. He couldn't just bluntly say "to survive, afraid you'll kill me later." He cleared his throat and came up with a high-sounding reason, trying to make his tone sound natural and maintain the master's dignity: "You are my only disciple. Of course I must be responsible for you. In the past, I punished you to make you restrain your nature, so you wouldn't become arrogant just because of your outstanding talent. From now on, I will properly teach you cultivation and won't let you act recklessly like this—after all, you are my disciple, and your cultivation concerns my face."
After speaking, seeing Ling Xuan still looking wary, he pressed on: "That spirit-devouring constitution of yours is not an evil thing. It's just that the cultivation method is wrong, which makes it seem violent and hard to control, even backfiring on yourself. From now on, come to my main hall every day at Chen hour, and I will personally teach you the 'Clear Spirit Art' to help you control the spirit-devouring constitution and resolve the violence. I will never let it drag down your cultivation again." He deliberately emphasized the words "drag down your cultivation," trying to make this concern seem more "utilitarian" and more in line with the "self-preservation" purpose.
These words exploded like thunder in Ling Xuan's ears. He looked up sharply at Shen Qingci, his eyes full of shock and disbelief, even forgetting to maintain his cold demeanor. The spirit-devouring constitution was his biggest secret and his greatest source of inferiority. He had known since childhood that he was different from others, that the power in his body was violent and hard to control, unconsciously absorbing the spiritual energy around him, even harming those nearby. He had always carefully hidden this secret, afraid that if discovered, he would be seen as a monster, and even more afraid that if the master found out, he would be used as a tool to absorb spiritual energy or have his spiritual roots destroyed and be thrown back into the mass grave.
But he never expected that the master not only knew his secret but would personally teach him to control the spirit-devouring constitution, even giving him a technique specifically designed to neutralize the violence. This sudden kindness left him at a loss. The defenses in his heart began to waver, yet he didn't dare easily trust. He stared into Shen Qingci's eyes, trying to find a trace of deception or malice, but what he saw was only calm in the master's eyes, and a barely perceptible sincerity, without the usual disgust and calculation.
"Why is Master helping me?" Ling Xuan's voice carried a barely perceptible tremor, his fingertips slightly curling. Even he didn't notice that his tone had lost some of its coldness and gained a hint of vulnerability. He didn't dare ask, didn't dare believe, afraid this was just an elaborately planned deception, afraid that just as he felt a trace of warmth, he would be brutally pushed into hell.
Shen Qingci's heart softened. Looking at the confusion and vulnerability in the young man's eyes, he suddenly felt that this ruthless character who would sweep through the immortal sects after turning dark was, at this moment, just a child who longed for warmth but didn't dare easily trust others. He avoided Ling Xuan's gaze, cleared his throat, his tone still carrying the master's dignity but with a bit more gentleness: "You are my disciple. If I don't help you, who should I help? Don't overthink it. Come to the main hall on time tomorrow, and I'll teach you cultivation."
After speaking, he didn't dare stay longer, afraid that saying too much would expose him. He turned and hurried away, even forgetting to take the food box, leaving only a somewhat hasty back. When he reached the bamboo hut's entrance, he couldn't help slowing his steps. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ling Xuan slowly walk to the stone table, hesitate for a long time, and finally pick up a piece of spiritual rice cake, taking a small bite. The sunlight fell on the young man's pale little face, actually revealing a rare softness. Shen Qingci's heart relaxed, secretly relieved: Step one, at least I didn't mess it up.
Ling Xuan stood by the stone table, biting into the sweet spiritual rice cake. The sweet, glutinous spiritual energy melted in his mouth, dispelling the lingering cold in his body and also stirring a ripple in his frozen heart. He looked down at the spiritual rice cake in his hand, then looked in the direction Shen Qingci had left, complex emotions filling his eyes. Was this master really changed, or did he have another purpose? He didn't know the answer, but for the first time, he felt a different emotion toward this person he had once hated to the bone. Perhaps... he could try waiting a bit longer.
Meanwhile, when Shen Qingci returned to the main hall and had just sat down, a system notification sounded in his mind: [Ding! Detected host has implemented "feeding-style care" toward Ling Xuan. Ling Xuan's favorability +5 (current favorability: -45). Host, keep it up. When favorability reaches 0, you can unlock "Spirit-Devouring Constitution Basic Control Guide."] Shen Qingci raised an eyebrow and complained inwardly: "Only +5? This favorability is way too hard to raise!" Though he complained, he breathed a sigh of relief—at least his efforts hadn't been in vain. Ling Xuan wasn't completely unresponsive.