Chapter 129: Past Life (5) — Mundane Matters

Seeing someone stop in front of the stall, the candied hawthorn vendor quickly put on a smile and eagerly greeted them.

Looking up, he saw an absolutely stunning woman in pristine white robes, exuding an ethereal and otherworldly aura.

The vendor sighed inwardly, his enthusiasm and expectations instantly diminishing.

Someone like her, surely untouched by the mundane world, wouldn’t buy anything.

To his surprise, she picked up a skewer and handed it to the young man beside her.

Listening to their conversation, he realized they were master and disciple.

Blushing, the vendor murmured in a voice as faint as a mosquito’s buzz, “Fairy, you’re so beautiful. You don’t have to pay for the candied hawthorn. It’s my gift to you.”

Jiang Niannian declined, “That won’t do.”

As she spoke, she handed over a spirit stone.

But the next moment, Yin Buqi’s expression darkened.

He strode forward abruptly and kicked over the vendor’s stall.

“Buqi!”

Jiang Niannian hadn’t had time to stop him and cried out in alarm.

The vendor stared in shock as the youth suddenly lashed out.

It took him a moment to react before he angrily cursed, “What the hell are you doing?!”

Yin Buqi bit into a candied hawthorn, crunching it audibly.

“Smashing a stall. Can’t you tell?”

The vendor was livid, his gaze fixed on the now-filthy candied hawthorns on the ground.

“Are you insane?! I was being nice and giving you one for free, and you just up and wreck my stall without a word? You must be crazy!”

Unexpectedly, Yin Buqi didn’t get angry.

Instead, he grinned and reached out, pinching the vendor’s throat.

His touch seemed light, but the strength was overwhelming.

The vendor’s feet lifted slightly off the ground, his face turning a deep purplish-red from lack of air, his eyes wide with terror.

He couldn’t even utter a sound.

Another hand grasped Yin Buqi’s wrist.

He turned his head to see Jiang Niannian’s face, tinged with anger.

She said, “Buqi, let go.”

At her words, Yin Buqi released his grip, and the vendor collapsed to the ground with a heavy thud, groaning in pain.

“Yin Buqi! What the hell is wrong with you?!” Jiang Niannian frowned deeply, about to help the vendor up, but Yin Buqi stopped her.

“Master, let me.”

He crouched down, as if to assist, but instead, he whispered chillingly in the vendor’s ear, “A lowly mortal like you dares to covet my master?”

“Do you believe I won’t gouge out your eyes?”

His red pupils gleamed with killing intent.

The vendor froze, then scrambled to his feet and fled, not even caring about his pain or the ruined stall.

Jiang Niannian sighed and flicked her fingers, making a pouch of spirit stones appear at the vendor’s waist.

Consider it compensation.

“Master!”

His little rebellious disciple had caused trouble again, and now she was cleaning up after him.

Yet now, he was acting all worried that she’d be upset, calling out to her in a sweet, sticky tone.

It was early spring, and the cold still lingered.

It seemed to love burrowing into Yin Buqi’s frame.

He wore a black robe embroidered with golden trim, his long hair tied high, secured with a golden hairpin.

His waist belt cinched his slender frame, his complexion pale, his build delicate.

His features carried an almost heart-stopping fragility.

But Jiang Niannian knew—he wasn’t fragile.

He was stronger than anyone she had ever seen.

She decided to ignore him and turned, heading toward the inn.

She thought to herself, I was considering getting him a sword. But now… I should wait a little longer.

“Ah, Master, wait for me.”

“Master, don’t be mad. Next time—next time I’ll be more careful and won’t cause trouble for you.”

“Good Master, forgive me just this once, please?”

“Master…”

Yin Buqi trailed behind her, eating the candied hawthorn while calling out to her in a pitiful voice.

But Jiang Niannian saw right through him.

Her disciple—he was only saying that.

Next time, he’d do the same thing.

He never listened to her.

—

That night, Jiang Niannian sat cross-legged on the bed, meditating in cultivation.

Yin Buqi, however, seemed to have already tossed the events of the day aside.

He circled around her, acting clingy and pestering her, chattering non-stop.

“Master, are you really an immortal?”

“Master, did you think that wedding dress we saw in the street today was beautiful?”

“Master, do you have any expectations for your future husband?”

Jiang Niannian grew annoyed by his questions and absentmindedly replied, “Someone who knows to come home when it rains.”

Yin Buqi chuckled and rubbed against her like a puppy.

“Master, do you think someone like me could become your husband?”

Hearing his increasingly improper words, Jiang Niannian opened her eyes and pushed him away.

“Since you’ve embarked on the immortal path, you should cultivate with a clear heart and abandon thoughts of worldly distractions. Do you understand?”

Yin Buqi’s smile grew even more affectionate, but his eyes remained devoid of warmth.

“Mundane matters?”

His gaze deepened, becoming unfamiliar.

Jiang Niannian said, “If you have time to entertain such thoughts, you should use it to prepare for the Immortal Alliance Gathering tomorrow.”

Yin Buqi dismissed it lightly.

“Master, don’t worry. A bunch of mere mortals—easy to deal with.”

Jiang Niannian said nothing.

She had to admit, Yin Buqi did have the strength to back up his words.

His cultivation speed was absurdly fast—almost inhuman.

“It’s late. Go rest in your own room.”

“Yes, Master.”

—

The candlelight flickered.

Yin Buqi sat on the bed, his body burning with heat.

“Master…”

he growled lowly.

His eyes were dark, long hair cascading over his shoulders.

Sweat dampened his inner robes, revealing the taut lines of his body.

The black robe he had worn during the day lay discarded on the floor.

He tilted his head back slightly, his Adam’s apple bobbing.

The dim candlelight flickered in his pupils, burning—but the deeper it burned, the darker it became.

He didn’t know how much time had passed before he finally stopped, panting lightly.

Looking at the filth in his palm, he murmured, “Master… how could this be a mere mundane matter?”

The corners of his eyes were flushed red with pleasure.

He looked like a ghostly beauty.

Casually, he formed a purification spell, cleansing himself.

His dear master—if she knew the filthy thoughts in his mind…

He wondered what kind of expression she would make.

Yin Buqi thought of her lips.

The desire was so intense it hurt.

He collapsed back onto the soft bed.

“…The candied hawthorn really is sweet.”