Chapter 127: Past Life (3) – Sinister

Jiang Niannian glanced at the grieving widow before her, who was crying her heart out, demanding an explanation.

Then she looked at her own disciple sitting beside her, looking utterly indifferent.

Somehow, the freshly brewed Buyehou tea in her hands no longer smelled as fragrant.

She sighed helplessly, rubbing her forehead.

“You little devil, what trouble have you caused today that I have to clean up for you?”

“Immortal, you must discipline your disciple!”

The widow sobbed, wiping her nose and tears.

Her voice trembled as she pointed at Yin Buqi.

“My family relies on that hen to lay eggs and nourish my child! But he just went and snapped its neck without a care! I am just a helpless widow with no man in the house—am I to be bullied like this?!”

Jiang Niannian saw how agitated the woman was and consoled her sincerely, “It was my failure in teaching him properly. How would you like me to compensate you?”

The widow’s eyes flickered as she quickly responded, “Of course, you must compensate me.”

“That’s easy.”

Jiang Niannian took out a pouch of spirit stones from her sleeve and handed it over.

“See if this is enough?”

The widow squinted, weighing the pouch in her palm before opening it to take a peek inside.

She let out a nasal hum and said, “Immortal, you may not know this, but just yesterday, your disciple also stepped on and killed my guard dog. Wouldn’t you say this amount is a bit short?”

Yin Buqi glanced at the pouch—those spirit stones were more than enough to buy an entire house.

He let out a scoff. “Greedy.”

The widow was momentarily stunned, her finger trembling as she pointed at him.

“You—!”

Yin Buqi, still sitting lazily, propped his head up with one hand.

His long black hair was tied with a jade clasp, and his embroidered black robes spread in a circular arc on the floor.

Sensing the widow’s gaze on him, he curled his lips into a smile and sneered, “What, me? Keep staring at me with those filthy eyes, and I’ll dig them out for you.”

The widow gasped in rage, looking as though she was about to cry again.

“Buqi, enough!” Jiang Niannian had a pounding headache.

She pulled out another pouch of spirit stones and handed it over.

“Is this enough now?”

The moment she reached for more money, the widow immediately calmed down, her eyes sparkling.

When the pouch was placed in her hands, she could no longer hide the joy on her face.

She quickly tucked it away and, under Yin Buqi’s sinister gaze, forced a bright smile before scurrying off without looking back.

Jiang Niannian turned to Yin Buqi.

“Explain. What happened?”

Yin Buqi smirked playfully.

“Nothing much. I just found that hen annoying.”

Every time he passed by, the widow’s chickens and dogs would bark and cluck at him—it was irritating.

“When will you learn to restrain yourself? Every creature has a spirit; they are not toys for you to kill at will. You should—”

Jiang Niannian was still lecturing, but Yin Buqi clearly wasn’t listening.

He grew bored and idly twirled a strand of her hair around his slender fingers.

Her hair always carried a faint, clean fragrance—soft as mist, smooth as flowing silk.

He liked it.

A gentle breeze drifted in from outside the window, pulling her hair from his grasp.

The silky strands brushed against his fingertips, leaving behind an itch—an unbearable, lingering sensation.

Without thinking, he caught a lock of her hair again and brought it to his lips, pressing a soft kiss against it.

His lips, deep red in color, contrasted starkly with his pale complexion.

His sharp, defined features carried a strange, decadent beauty, and a faint redness lingered at the corners of his eyes, exuding a dark, eerie allure.

Before he could savor it further, the lock of hair was pulled away.

Jiang Niannian, exasperated, scolded, “Go outside and kneel. You can come back in when you realize your mistake.”

To her surprise, Yin Buqi suddenly chuckled, his shoulders shaking in amusement.

His red eyes shone with an unsettling excitement.

“This is the first time Master has ever punished me.”

With that, he obediently walked outside and knelt.

Jiang Niannian watched his departing figure and thought to herself, This time, I must make him suffer a bit so he’ll learn his lesson.

She let out a sigh, sat on her meditation cushion, formed a lotus seal with her hands, and entered deep meditation.

—

When Jiang Niannian emerged from her spiritual sea of consciousness, an entire day had passed.

She hadn’t even realized how long she had been meditating.

It was odd—lately, she had been having restless dreams, her soul feeling unsettled.

Could something be wrong with her clone?

Perhaps she should return to the heavens soon to check.

She took a sip of tea, only to find it had gone completely cold.

It seemed to have rained all night.

Even by morning, the rain had not ceased.

The misty drizzle outside blurred the view, and the rhythmic sound of rainwater dripping from the eaves felt like a slow, relentless death knell, carrying a biting chill.

Wait… where was her disciple?!

Jiang Niannian’s hand, still holding the tea cup, stiffened.

Yin Buqi was still kneeling outside.

He had been out in the rain all night, yet he showed no sign of standing up.

Jiang Niannian’s grip tightened.

Although Yin Buqi was exceptionally gifted and advanced quickly in cultivation, his body had been weak since childhood due to an old injury.

His constitution leaned toward the cold, making him prone to illness.

Every time he caught a chill, it would take ten to fifteen days for him to recover.

But… he had made a mistake.

The rain poured harder, turning into a raging storm, howling like vengeful ghosts.

Raindrops lashed against his thin shoulders like piercing needles.

She tried to remain composed.

…Alright, composure failed.

He was still just a young man—rebellious as expected.

Perhaps she had been too harsh.

Fine.

There was still time.

She would teach him slowly.

He would change… eventually.

Jiang Niannian rose to her feet and stepped out into the storm.

A protective barrier formed around her, shielding her pristine white robes from the torrential downpour.

Stepping outside, she saw Yin Buqi kneeling in the courtyard.

His tall, slender figure remained upright, but he hadn’t even summoned a protective barrier.

He was drenched from head to toe.

Jiang Niannian approached.

“Do you realize your mistake now?”

The kneeling boy lifted his head.

Rainwater dripped from his lashes.

His hauntingly beautiful face was deathly pale, his lips almost white, and his crimson eyes held a misty, unreadable depth—dark and unfathomable.

There it was again—deathly energy.

He whispered, “What exactly was my mistake?”

“I spent so long lecturing you yesterday, and you didn’t listen to a single word.”

Jiang Niannian formed a protective barrier above him, feeling utterly exhausted by this disciple.

“Forget it. Just get up.”

But Yin Buqi’s lips curled into a twisted smile, a crazed, almost ecstatic glint in his eyes.

“But Master, you said I could only get up once I recognized my mistake. I haven’t admitted to anything yet—why are you the one giving in first?”

“Just get up. It’s too cold outside.”

Jiang Niannian hesitated before adding, “I was careless to let you kneel in the rain all night. Don’t hold it against me.”

Yin Buqi’s lips curved into a sinister smirk.

His voice was eerily soft.

“How could I? Everything Master does for me… I remember it all. And one day, I’ll be sure to repay you for it.”

He bit down heavily on the word ‘repay’.

Though he was smiling, Jiang Niannian could sense the twisted darkness within him.

He had an undeniably beautiful face, yet his eyes always carried a storm of violence and cruelty, void of warmth.

She once thought she could change him.

But after three years, his darkness had only deepened.

A sudden clap of thunder roared through the sky, rain pouring endlessly down.

Jiang Niannian closed her eyes briefly, then opened them again.

Softly, she murmured, “I was wrong.”

She turned and walked back inside, sighing, “I should never have taken you in as my disciple.”

“Master?”

Yin Buqi’s smile froze.

For the first time, he felt as though he couldn’t breathe.

“Master!”

He called out again, but Jiang Niannian didn’t look back.

His body, having endured the night’s rain, finally gave in.

A sharp pain tore through his throat, and he coughed violently, spitting out a mouthful of bright red blood.

He stared at the crimson splatter on the ground, his vision blurring…