After Transmigrating Into the Book, I Raised the Sickly Side Male Character to Be the Yandere - Chapter 130
Chapter 130: Past Life (6) – Blood Feud
“Master, if I take first place in the Immortal Alliance Gathering, will you grant me one wish?”
As Yin Buqi combed Jiang Niannian’s hair, he asked the question casually.
He inhaled the fresh, grassy scent lingering around her, and before he knew it, his fingers were gently stroking her silky strands.
His master’s hair was one of his favorite things to touch.
Jiang Niannian asked, “What wish?”
“It wouldn’t be fun if I said it now. Let’s keep it a mystery until I win first place.”
A soft smile filled Jiang Niannian’s gentle eyes.
She nodded. “Alright.”
When it came to Jiang Niannian, Yin Buqi never had a clear boundary in his heart.
At first, he simply thought she was too pure, too untouched by the mundane world—merciful and kind, like a true immortal.
But he had never believed in the existence of truly good people, so he deliberately caused trouble, trying to provoke her, to pull her down from that pedestal.
Yet, the more time he spent with her, the stronger her allure became.
It was as if just seeing her made his heart itch.
He still loved to cause her trouble.
It seemed that as long as he could see even the slightest change in that ever-gentle smile of hers, and know that it was because of him, the demon inside him would be pleased.
It excited him.
“Master.”
“Hmm?”
“Master.”
“What is it?”
“Nothing, I just wanted to call you.”
Jiang Niannian: “…Mm.”
—
It had been a long time since the Immortal Alliance Gathering had seen such a fierce and ruthless young cultivator.
He looked only seventeen or eighteen, but among his peers, no one was his match.
He struck too hard, showed no mercy, and fought with a singular purpose—to win.
Even the spectators frowned at his brutality.
“Whose disciple is this? He’s too heavy-handed.”
“Look at that kid… He doesn’t even need a weapon. He himself is a weapon. He doesn’t fear injury or death—there’s too much killing intent in him.”
Jiang Niannian had wanted to reprimand Yin Buqi, telling him to hold back.
But every time he won a match, he would turn back and smile at her, as if waiting for her praise.
At that moment, she couldn’t bring herself to say anything harsh.
That smile alone could topple nations.
Yin Buqi didn’t have the traditionally masculine, heroic appearance.
On the contrary, his features were delicate, his frame slender and almost fragile.
Many young female cultivators in the audience, likely seeing someone like Yin Buqi for the first time, were staring at him, entranced.
Just then, an elder in the crowd muttered, “This child… he has the makings of one who will one day betray his master and ancestors.”
Jiang Niannian frowned and couldn’t help but retort, “Elder, I do not appreciate such words about my disciple.”
The old man shook his head.
“Let’s just hope he doesn’t cause great disaster in the future.”
She was the Will of Heaven itself.
Even though her foresight had weakened since descending to the mortal world, she was still far from incapable of reading a person’s fate.
This was her disciple.
She would guide him well—how could he ever betray her?
Such words were nothing but groundless fearmongering.
At that moment, Yin Buqi had reached the semifinals, facing another top contender.
His opponent was the chief disciple of Canghua Sword Master from the Rimuli Sect.
Yin Buqi had always been the kind to hold grudges and was notoriously difficult to deal with.
And this particular opponent happened to look down on rogue cultivators.
He sneered at Yin Buqi, taunting, “You’re competing without even bringing a sword? What, is your master so poor that she can’t even afford one for you? Hah! Just as expected—rogue cultivators will never be worth anything.”
Jiang Niannian’s heart sank.
Her disciple was about to go all out.
Yin Buqi dusted off his sleeves, gazing at the ground lazily.
“Against you? My hands are enough.”
The disciple’s eyes narrowed into sharp daggers.
Yin Buqi remained utterly unfazed, his lips curling into a mockery of a smile.
“You can’t beat me.”
You can’t beat me. You might as well surrender now.
He didn’t even bother finishing the last part of the sentence, offering the other party at least a shred of dignity.
Yet, his opponent had already lost all face.
Furious, he tried to hurl more insults.
“You think you’re so—”
But Yin Buqi didn’t give him the chance to finish.
He struck.
The disciple scrambled backward, his sword flashing as he thrust forward.
Yin Buqi tilted his body ever so slightly.
The blade’s gleam reflected off his face, casting a fleeting, ghostly image of his devastatingly beautiful yet lethally cold visage.
His eyes were too steeped in bloodlust.
They didn’t belong to a handsome youth, but to a vengeful spirit.
“Buqi, stop!”
Jiang Niannian, seeing his movement clearly, shouted to halt him—
But Yin Buqi ignored her.
In a split second, the disciple turned his head—just in time to see a severed limb fall to the ground.
A complete, intact hand.
His hand.
“Aaah—!”
A shriek of agony tore through the air.
Horror twisted the disciple’s face.
This madman—he had torn his hand off with his bare hands!
Yin Buqi watched his despair with a wicked grin.
His fingertips, stained with fresh blood, flicked forward ever so casually.
Tiny droplets shot like needles into the severed wound, sending the disciple into violent convulsions.
Yin Buqi’s voice was light, almost lazy.
“I don’t believe you.”
The spectators, seasoned cultivators who had seen countless brutal battles, found themselves at a loss.
They had never seen anything like this before.
A disciple, at the Immortal Alliance Gathering, tearing off his opponent’s hand with his own strength.
“Abomination!”
A deep, thunderous voice rang out.
A wave of immense spiritual energy surged forth, roaring like a dragon rising from the earth, hurtling toward Yin Buqi.
The severed-arm disciple, upon hearing this voice, brightened in relief.
“Master! Master is here!”
Yin Buqi’s smile faltered.
Jiang Niannian swept her sleeves forward, intercepting the incoming power.
The impact sent shockwaves across the field, knocking weaker cultivators off their feet.
A storm of dust and debris erupted.
Jiang Niannian leaped into the air, stepping through the void toward the arena.
Her heart clenched.
Yin Buqi had gone too far this time.
Now that the opponent’s master had arrived, this was not going to end well.
As the dust settled, two new figures appeared on the battlefield.
A man and a woman, both clad in flowing white robes.
“That’s Canghua Sword Master!”
“And the woman beside him? Who is she?”
“Never seen her before. She must be that boy’s master.”
The man moved first.
He sealed the disciple’s wound with a wave of his hand and fed him a pill—sparing not even a single word.
Then, he unsheathed his sword, cold as ice, and attacked Jiang Niannian.
Jiang Niannian had no desire to fight him, but the man’s blade showed no mercy, forcing her to retaliate.
The battle erupted in midair.
The weaker cultivators could only shield themselves, watching in awe as storm clouds raged above—an overwhelming power far beyond their reach.
No matter how strong Yin Buqi was, he was still just a disciple.
This was a battle he had no place in.
He looked up at Jiang Niannian’s silhouette, her robes billowing as she fought.
In his eyes, frustration and elation warred.
Frustration—because he was not yet strong enough.
Elation—because his master had stepped in to protect him.
Meanwhile, the one-armed disciple glared at Yin Buqi with unbridled hatred.
“You mad dog!” he spat.
“Shhh.”
Yin Buqi smiled, wild and wicked, staring at him as if looking at a filthy stray.
“Be quiet. Don’t disturb me while I’m watching my master.”
