After Transmigrating Into the Book, I Raised the Sickly Side Male Character to Be the Yandere - Chapter 133
Chapter 133: Past Life (9) – Shattering Thoughts
Sword Master Canghua watched as Jiang Niannian walked away, his gaze flickering slightly.
He waved his hand and said, “Disperse.”
With that, he ordered the wooden barrel filled with spiritual water to be carried away.
The disciples noisily dispersed.
Yin Buqi stood frozen in place.
His pupils contracted as he stared in disbelief at his empty hands, having grasped nothing.
His fingers curled into a fist, and his blood felt as though it had ignited into flames.
“Sigh, just what kind of mess is this?”
A disciple who was close to the one with the severed arm spoke up, “What’s there to pity? If I were that beast’s master, I would have stabbed him to death long ago, rather than—ugh!”
Yin Buqi suddenly seized his throat, his eyes flashing with violent fury.
The obedient and pitiful act he had put on for Jiang Niannian was now completely gone.
“Say that again.”
The disciple had spoken in a low voice, but he had not expected Yin Buqi’s hearing to be so sharp.
He was shocked and dared not utter another word.
“I said, speak!”
Yin Buqi tightened his grip, his entire body trembling, his reason slipping away.
He squeezed the man’s throat, snarling as he pressed for an answer.
If he killed these people, would his master return to punish him?
A crazed thought turned his eyes blood-red.
“Mm!”
The disciple’s breath grew labored, his face turning red as his struggles weakened.
Yin Buqi froze for a moment, his red eyes widening as madness and clarity flickered within them.
He let go.
He couldn’t do this—his master would be angry.
“Yes, Master is angry. I have to appease her… She won’t abandon me.”
He staggered away like a madman, mumbling to himself, “Master must have returned to Kunlun Mountain… She must have… I’ll go back and wait for her…”
—
Jiang Niannian walked through the Heavenly Realm, veiled in mist.
Everything was so pristine, devoid of even a speck of dust or clutter.
She recalled the day she had rushed to check on the Immortal Tree of Kunlun.
Kunlun was covered in snow year-round, its main peak shrouded in dark clouds, the summit hidden in mist.
The Immortal Tree stood quietly at the edge of the cliff, unharmed.
Yet that day, an inexplicable feeling had surged in her heart.
A stifling weight pressed against her chest, making it hard to breathe—she had nearly lost her balance.
She didn’t understand, nor did she want to.
She simply felt there was nothing worth lingering for in the mortal world, so she returned to the heavens.
But no sooner had she arrived than her clon informed her—Yin Buqi was dead.
She attempted to divine his fate over and over again, yet no trace of his life remained.
Each day, she gazed into the Floating World Mirror, hoping to find even a fragment of his lingering soul.
No matter what, he was once her disciple—she wanted to seek a path of reincarnation for him.
But there was nothing.
Not even a wisp.
It had been a hundred days since Yin Buqi’s departure.
One day in the heavens equaled a year in the mortal world.
To the human realm, Yin Buqi had been dead for a hundred years.
A sudden, desperate hope ignited in her heart—if only he truly was Emperor Jiuyin.
If he was, then he would surely be reborn.
An empty void grew in her heart, making it harder and harder to focus on worldly affairs.
Eventually, she left her clon to manage the Heavenly Realm while she returned to the small house at the foot of Kunlun Mountain.
Before she left, her clon suddenly said something cryptic: “This is your heaven. As long as you return, it will always remain pristine, admired for eternity.”
But Jiang Niannian had been in too much of a hurry and did not hear the avatar’s next murmur:
“Why must I be only your shadow…?”
—
At the foot of Kunlun Mountain.
Outside the window, a fine drizzle fell, soon turning into a torrential downpour.
Lightning flashed and thunder roared, the storm raging as if to consume the world itself.
Jiang Niannian sat in silence, staring blankly at the red candle on the table, lost in meditation.
She did not know how much time had passed when she heard the sound of water being wrung from a cloth.
A shadow fell over her, and a warm cloth gently wiped her face.
Who?!
She wanted to speak, but she suddenly realized that her spiritual veins had been sealed.
Even the slightest movement brought unbearable pain.
Panic surged in her heart.
In this world, who could possibly seal her spiritual veins?
She waited in silence.
The person did not seem intent on harming her.
After wiping her face, they reached out—to untie the sash at her waist.
Jiang Niannian’s fear deepened.
Why was he undressing her?!
She struggled to open her eyes, but all she saw was darkness.
Her temples throbbed violently, waves of pain tearing through her head.
Suddenly, a cold hand touched her lips.
At last, she could speak.
“Who are you?!”
In the darkness, the cold hand moved downward, pressing against her fair skin.
“Master has awakened?”
Soft. Slow.
A teasing caress.
“You’d best not make any rash moves, Master.”
A low, haunting voice whispered beside her ear, “If your spiritual veins shatter and you pass out from the pain, I’ll be heartbroken.”
He called her Master? He called himself disciple?
But… but her disciple, her only disciple, had died a hundred years ago.
Not even a trace of his soul remained.
This voice—both familiar and unfamiliar—sent her heart racing.
In that moment, shame over his touch was overshadowed by disbelief.
She stammered, “You… Who are you?”
“Master doesn’t even recognize her own disciple’s voice? That’s rather heartbreaking. It seems Master has truly forgotten me.”
His hands moved with reckless abandon, stripping her bare like peeling an egg.
His tone, both sulky and angry, was like a child’s grievance.
“I’ve imagined this countless times… Master’s skin is just as soft as I pictured. Just the lightest touch, and it turns pink.”
“Even your fingertips are pink. So beautiful.”
A wave of shame overwhelmed Jiang Niannian.
She tried to escape, but pain wracked her body.
Trembling, she whispered, “…Buqi?”
“How rare, that Master still remembers my name.”
His voice betrayed no hint of joy or anger.
“Buqi, it’s really you?! You’re alive?!”
“Of course, I’m alive,” Yin Buqi sneered.
“But from the sound of it, Master seems quite disappointed.”
Jiang Niannian shook her head.
“How could I be? I’m overjoyed that you’ve returned! I’ve regretted it all along—I shouldn’t have left you behind. I truly regret it…”
The thought that the person before her might really be Yin Buqi stirred turmoil in her heart.
She had always blamed herself.
If she had stayed, would he never have died?
“Master’s sincerity is almost touching,” Yin Buqi murmured.
Then, he suddenly seized her wrist, pinned it above her head, and pressed down upon her.
“Unfortunately, I’ve seen through Master’s true nature. I won’t be fooled by this act again.”
