“Senior Sister Feng!”

“Senior Sister Feng!”

Thinking her bargain Master would have to run to her soon, Nana Toki stepped out, heading toward Shrine Water like a sparrow flitting toward a quiet spring.

Better to keep trouble from fluttering in halfway like moths to a lamp.

She’d woken earlier than the plot; would going now kick up some stray winds?

System: “Says it like you didn’t cause glitches in the last few worlds.”

Mm. Fair point.

Then let’s go.

System: “...”

She straightened her robes, drifted through the Cloudpeak Sect like a leaf on a breeze, then made for Stream Peak’s slopes.

What surprised her was this: disciples all along the way treated her with respectful warmth, like sun on winter pines.

Especially the girls—each “Senior Sister” came sweet as syrup, voices chiming like larks over dew-wet stone.

Most men would’ve had their bones tingling; Nana only broke out in goosebumps, prickly as a startled hedgehog.

By the time she reached the foot of Stream Peak, her empty hands carried several fruits gifted by junior sisters, cool as morning pearls.

They swore they’d beautify the skin and soothe the throat; Nana had to accept, stashing four or five in her sleeves like hidden treasure.

She’d offer them to her bargain Master later, polish goodwill, maybe fish up a few fine toys from that pond.

Also, her throat burned like a small brazier; a pear would slide down like gentle rain.

Still—why no guardian disciples today?

Standing at the base, Nana scanned the quiet; no one watched Stream Peak, not even a shadow under a pine.

By memory, the third elder of the Cloudpeak Sect loved silence; on Stream Peak, you rarely saw anyone but the two gatekeepers.

Yet today, not a single silhouette; had they taken leave, like cranes winging off at dusk?

She climbed the stone steps, eyes roaming; peaks rose like jade walls, valleys cupped shadows like ink, and Stream Peak sat among them like a polished blade.

No harsh noises anywhere; it didn’t feel like trouble, only noon light cooling like river glass.

Maybe napping?

She pulled a pear from her sleeve and took a bite, crisp as frost; she couldn’t picture her Master with a midday nap.

“Luo Luo, why aren’t you resting and healing in your room today? What are you doing at my Stream Peak?”

The world blurred; in a flutter of cyan robes, a lithe figure alighted before her like a willow leaf on wind.

Her long blue-black hair fell free, sleek as silk; willow brows arched; deep blue eyes hooked the soul like night over water.

Her eyes lifted at the corners with a hint of reproach, yet that look added a teasing heat, like wine warming in moonlight.

Bare arms were white as new snow, seeming to glow with a silver sheen, like moonlight on ice.

For a beat, Nana forgot to chew her pear, mouth sweet and still.

No wonder this was a yuri power fantasy; even the cannon-fodder Master looked like a nation-toppling fairy, pure as cloudlight.

In the end, some brute who didn’t cherish jade probably harmed her, beauty fallen like a plucked blossom.

Pity.

“I heard a junior sister say you were looking for me. I didn’t want you to run over, so I came to report peace, Master.”

She wiped her mouth with a sleeve, held the pear, and bowed prim as a cat smoothing whiskers, not daring to be unruly.

Her Master was strong as a mountain; if she hated rule breakers and smacked her, Nana had no way out, like a boat in a whirl.

She wasn’t sure how the original handled this bargain Master, and she kept her voice soft.

“...”

Shrine Water’s mouth twitched; when did her disciple stop minding her image, like clouds ignoring the sun?

“You’re thoughtful. But do you know why I called you?”

She stood on the stone steps, nodded, and asked like a spring testing a stone.

“Is it... because you missed me, Master?” Nana leaned in, a fox sniffing the wind.

Shrine Water: “...”

Why did her disciple feel a bit dim today, as if Yiling Shen had rattled her skull?

She tapped Nana’s forehead; willow brows tightened; then she spoke sharp and clear, like a bamboo snap.

“Why did you go provoke Yiling Shen?”

Shrine Water caught the half-bitten pear in Nana’s hand; her mouth twitched again and she chose not to see it, like mist skirting a crag.

“Because that bully annoyed me, so I wanted to slap her.” Nana went a touch obedient after the tap, but her tongue stayed quick, like a brook.

Shrine Water: “...”

“Even if you dislike Yiling Shen, she’s the Sect Master’s last disciple. Best avoid conflict, like boats avoiding reefs.”

She turned and sighed; her voice carried a wistful note, like wind through pines at dusk.

How had her disciple’s temper changed in mere days, like a mask flipping under lantern light?

“If you don’t like it, Master, I’ll stay far from Yiling Shen.” Nana took another bite while Shrine Water turned, juice cool as spring.

If the heroine comes to tease me, though, that’s another story, like a cat hearing fish splash.

“...”

“Come up the peak with me. We won’t speak more of Yiling Shen.”

Shrine Water looked back, surprised; no pouting, no heiress temper, her disciple felt new, like snow after rain.

Only that pear—why was there yet another bite missing, like the moon waning?

“Master, I’ve dropped to Qi Refinement level five now. I might not keep pace with you. Maybe you could...”

She finished the pear and flicked the core into her hidden space, clapped her hands, and sidled closer like a fox hinting at a henhouse.

Shrine Water: “...”

People changed, but her ‘pit Master’ ways stayed the same, like ink staining a sleeve.

It was the first time she’d heard someone dress a downgrade as a medal, bright as lacquer.

“We’ll talk about that later.”

Shrine Water flicked her right hand; scenery twisted like water; Nana blinked and stood on the summit beside her.

Below, mountains layered like waves; green peaks and clear streams refreshed the heart like rain on dust.

Pines and cypresses towered; flowers and willows blushed; it felt like a forested fairyland cooling the lungs.

Just standing there, Nana felt Spirit Energy pour into her roots, steady as spring filling a well.

“Since you’re here, don’t go back in the coming days. Stay on my Stream Peak and cultivate in peace.”

“Strive to break through to Foundation Establishment before the sect’s tournament.”

“These are Gathering Powder and Spirit-Building Balm from the Sect Master. They’ll help restore your cultivation and then build your foundation.”

“Use them well. Don’t disappoint me.”

She flicked her sleeve; two medicine bottles with strange patterns landed on the stone table like falling petals.

Nana opened one; the scent rose a cool mint, not the rich herb she’d expected, like frost breath.

“That’s Spirit-Building Balm. At Qi Refinement level ten, it raises your odds of Foundation Establishment by thirty percent. Below level ten, don’t use it.”

Shrine Water stood near the table, gaze on distant peaks, yet sensing exactly what sat in Nana’s hand, like a crane feeling ripples.

“And if I use it before level ten?” Nana plugged the stopper, curiosity peeking like a squirrel.

“Then your body explodes and you die.” Shrine Water turned her head, lips pressed, a half-smile cutting like ice.

Nana tingled under that layered look, hurriedly tucked the bottles away, thanked sweetly, and moved to dart into the peak like a swift.

“Wait.”

Shrine Water lifted her chin; there was more to say, like thunder rumbling before rain.

“What else?” Nana asked, holding the two bottles, puzzled like a cat at a closed door.

“I’ll have Shuiqin come keep you company these days. Don’t even think about leaving.”

Call Shuiqin Lin to keep her company?

Nana shot her Master a strange look, like a fish eyeing bait.

Afraid I’ll sneak out at night?

“Rest easy. I definitely won’t leave.”

She patted her chest, promise firm as a stone.

Why leave with good food and views here, like a traveler stepping out of an inn at dawn?

“You sure?” Shrine Water didn’t quite believe her, caution thin as mist.

“Absolutely sure!”

The scenery here was good and Spirit Energy thick, unlike the barren place she’d come from, dry as old reed.

Most important—this Master was pleasing to the eye; even if Nana wasn’t into women, it was fine to graze on beauty like a doe at a pond.

It’s not like Master would actually fall for her; she snorted inwardly, playful as a sparrow.

With a big-shot right here, not hugging that thigh would be a crime, like ignoring a warm fire in snow.

Maybe, if her bargain Master grew fond, she’d get free spirit weapons and artifacts, glittering like stars in a box.

“...”

Seeing Nana’s earnest look, Shrine Water almost believed her, if not for knowing Feng Luo Luo’s usual nature, sharp as a needle.

“Then I’ll trust you for now. Tonight, you’ll share a side room with Shuiqin.”

“I’m sharing with Junior Sister?” Nana almost tossed the bottle, fingers slippery as river stones.

“What? You have a problem?” Shrine Water lifted a brow; her disciple felt odd today, like rain that smelled of smoke.

Mm. She’d check later, quiet as moonlight.

“Master, forgive the blunt question...”

“What is it?”

“Is Junior Sister Shuiqin... into girls?”

Shrine Water: “...”