He thought his master would comfort him, hold him tenderly, and softly tell him not to be afraid.
But he never expected his master would…
In his shock, a dull ache in his chest made him blink a moment later, as if he couldn't quite process what had happened.
Why did his master look so indifferent? He had found that potted plant, after all…
Why wasn't his master happy?
He slowly lowered his eyes, his unfocused gaze falling on the long sword piercing his chest. The sword looked familiar, and he subconsciously murmured, "Que Hua…"
Bai Yu's fair fingers, as delicate as white tea, were stained with blood. His gaze slowly drifted upwards, from the clean, white sleeve, up to the face covered by a white cloth, like the ice and snow on Mount Emei, unattainable and utterly frigid.
"Master…" Rong Hua still seemed unable to comprehend, his eyes wide, bloodshot with veins showing, like a wronged child with teary, red-rimmed eyes, looking at her and sobbing.
"Why… why… does Master not like me…"
If one didn't see the sword piercing his chest, it might have appeared as a simple, heartwarming scene of a master and disciple having a disagreement.
One of the elders clearly noticed something was amiss with Rong Hua. His expression was stern and hardened: "Xi Yu, while the demon god is foolish, what are you hesitating for? Dig out his demonic bone directly! Otherwise, there will never be another chance!"
"As long as the demonic bone is not removed, the world will not be at peace!"
"Xi Yu, hurry up!"
Xuan Cheng also frowned, watching Shen Yue with a tense expression.
Shen Yue's profile was cold, her lips pressed tightly together, her face like a sheet of ice. Yet, no one noticed the slight tremble in her finger gripping the sword.
Sect Master Xi Yu's hand, which held the sword, had never trembled.
But now, it did.
The man, still oblivious, took another step forward. The sword plunged deeper, but he seemed to feel no pain, his obsession driving him towards that person, wanting to get closer, and closer still.
His eyes were still dewy, and he cautiously approached the white-robed immortal master, blood spilling from his mouth, staining his white robes. His eyes were crimson, appearing somewhat terrifying yet also imbued with a child-like innocence, as if he were throwing a childish tantrum.
"They all want to kill me… Does Master want me to die too?"
"Does Master want me to die?"
"Master, you know I'm afraid of pain, right?"
Shen Yue knew. How could she not know? She had raised this child. When he was little, even a fall would make him run to her crying.
Now, with this sword piercing his chest, how could he not be in pain?
The familiar scent tickled his nose, and the man's muffled sobs seemed to be right beside his ear.
His simple mind couldn't understand why his master had become like this. He racked his brain, believing he had only made one mistake, but he had already corrected it.
Yet, why did his master still seem so unhappy?
"Master… I found the potted plant again, why don't you look happy at all? Are you still angry with me?"
The white-robed immortal, with his refined and elegant features, did not reply. She seemed to disdain answering. She turned her wrist, drawing out the long sword. Warm blood gushed out, splattering her clean white cloth, and a few drops landed on her cheek.
Rong Hua looked at the blood splashed on Shen Yue's cheek. He first wiped his sleeve, then reached out and wiped away the bloodstain on his cheek with the back of his hand.
The immortal with the blindfold seemed unmoved. Her features were clear, like the reflection of the moon on a lake, radiating a chilling light. She still held the sword, its tip dripping with blood, still warm.
The bloodstain on his cheek was wiped clean. The man then displayed a foolish and happy smile. He wanted to tug at the immortal's sleeve, but seeing his blood-stained hands, he dejectedly withdrew them.
He wanted to say something more, but under the intense pain, the smile on his face froze. He stumbled awkwardly, collapsing to his knees with a thud, coughing out blood from his throat like a flowing stream.
In a daze, he seemed to hear the indifferent immortal speak.
Her voice was icy: "You deserve to die."
The flesh and blood in his chest had been pierced with a hole. He didn't feel pain, but these simple three words made him feel as if his blood were draining, his entire body trembling with cold, and a tearing pain coursed through his limbs and bones.
He looked up in confusion, tears rolling down his cheeks, towards the immortal looking down at him. Her clear, cold eyes seemed covered with a thin layer of ice, emanating a bone-chilling cold.
At this moment, the person before him seemed to have become a stranger.
He didn't know what he had done wrong. He could still faintly smell the faint fragrance emanating from her sleeve.
His simple mind struggled to comprehend those three words.
Master said he deserved to die.
Master was so fierce.
"I don't want to die…"
Rong Hua shook his head. As soon as he spoke, a bitter sweetness surged in his throat, and large amounts of blood poured from his mouth, dyeing his already soiled white robes completely red.
The smell of blood seemed to stain his vision red.
Yet, he could still smell the faint, sweet fragrance from his master's sleeve, clean and sweet, but exceptionally faint, as if it would dissipate with a single breath.
There was no tenderness in her expression, only an ingrained coldness.
That coldness, like a reversed blade, stimulated his riddled chest, the pain rendering him speechless.
Shen Yue's voice was as indifferent as water: "Since ancient times, the Qingyun Sect and the demon race have been irreconcilable. The demon race must die, and you are no exception."
Rong Hua didn't understand. He only felt panic. His eyes, as red as flowing water, seemed about to shed tears of blood. His voice was choked with sobs.
"Did I do something wrong, Master? I'll change, don't abandon me…"
In his extreme helplessness, he frantically grabbed Shen Yue's sleeve, leaving a bloodstained finger mark on the pristine white fabric.
He hastily let go, kneeling on the ground, trying to wipe away the bloodstain on her sleeve. But the blood smeared, becoming dirtier the more he wiped.
Rong Hua desperately suppressed the choked sobs and grievances in his throat, his voice filled with intense panic, "Master, I didn't do it on purpose. I didn't mean to stain you…"
Even now, he seemed not to grasp the situation. He only cared about Shen Yue's overly indifferent expression and her clothes that he had dirtied.
He didn't seem to understand the significance of having his chest pierced.
He still stubbornly believed he had done something wrong, and Shen Yue was merely punishing him.