Raising the Villain in Wrong Way

That guy was rude and aggressive.

He dared to compare Changxu’s venerable self to a ’cutting board’!

Yet, the memory of her body warmth, the fierce, protective determination in her dark eyes as she plunged her hands into freezing water to save him... it had bypassed his icy defenses entirely.

Elder Qin tried to speak. He tried to deliver a crushing, dignified insult.

"You..." Elder Qin started.

His voice cracked; it felt like his voice was squeaking.

The color drained from his face, only to be instantly replaced by a violent, blazing, entirely undeniable flush of brilliant crimson that spread from his neck all the way up to the tips of his aristocratic ears.

He was blushing.

The Master of the Heartless Dao was blushing like a maiden caught reading a scandalous romance novel.

Ji’an blinked, stepping back in alarm. "Elder Qin? Are you okay? Are you having another stage of Qi deviation?"

The genuine concern in her voice only made it worse.

"S-Silence!" Elder Qin stammered, his eyes darting wildly, refusing to look directly at her face, entirely terrified that if he met her gaze, he might spontaneously combust.

He gripped the sleeves of his robes, his knuckles turning white, battling the strange, horrifying flutter in his chest.

He didn’t know what this feeling was. He only knew that it made him want to crumble the entire courtyard to dust just to escape it.

"You... you shameless, insolent wretch!" Elder Qin cursed, his voice lacking any real venom, sounding entirely panicked. "Keep your distance from my peak! Do not look at me! Begone!"

"..."

Lin Ji’an was speechless at his acting up.

’What did I do now to make that guy act up?’

Without waiting for a response, Elder Qin practically gathered his robes and fled.

He didn’t walk gracefully; he bolted across the plaza, his boots leaving a chaotic, erratic trail of frost behind him as his internal Qi regulation completely failed.

"Wangchen, we are leaving! Now!" Elder Qin barked as he passed his disciple, not even stopping to see if the boy followed, launching his flying sword into the air and shooting into the sky like a rocket.

Ji’an stood in the middle of the plaza, her hand still raised in a half-finished gesture of concern. She watched the glowing streak of Elder Qin’s sword disappear into the clouds.

She slowly lowered her hand, her face a picture of profound, unadulterated confusion.

She looked at Wangchen, who was calmly stepping onto his own sword to follow his master, acting as if this behavior was entirely normal.

Ji’an turned to Jiu Zui, who was currently laughing so hard he was leaning against his wine gourd for support.

"Master," Ji’an said slowly, pointing a finger at the sky. "I am not an expert in cultivation psychology. But I am fairly certain that man has a screw loose in his head. Did his brain freeze over during the Qi deviation? Why is he yelling at me and blushing at the same time?"

Jiu Zui wiped a tear of mirth from his eye. "Oh, kid. The ice block is finally thawing. And he has absolutely no idea how to handle the puddle he’s turning into."

Ji’an frowned, entirely oblivious to the romantic panic she had just induced in a Transcendent master.

"Well, he definitely needs a therapist," Ji’an muttered, adjusting her heavy sleeves. "Or at least a hot cup of tea and a nap. Whatever. Let’s go home, Master. I have a grocery list to write, and six months of unrestricted foraging to plan."

As the Drunken Sovereign and his chef apprentice flew away into the afternoon sky, the Celestial Sword Sect braced itself.

The Official Sect Martial Ranking was about to begin, and Lin Ji’an was preparing to bring a spatula to a sword fight.

***

The implementation of the Official Sect Martial Ranking System hit the Celestial Sword Sect like a thunderbolt wrapped in an adrenaline shot.

Overnight, the usually serene, cloud-wreathed peaks transformed into a hyper-competitive, bureaucratic warzone.

The Grand Plaza was now dominated by a towering, monolithic slab of black spirit-stone, the Ranking Board, which glowed with the names of thousands of Inner Disciples, constantly shifting and updating as missions were completed and spars were fought.

For Lin Ji’an, however, the Ranking Board was less of a martial ladder and more of a glorious, unrestricted travel visa.

The sect’s mission pavilion was suddenly flooded with requests that perfectly aligned with her culinary ambitions.

Exterminate the venomous marsh-toads in the eastern swamps?

Fantastic, toad legs were a delicacy when deep-fried.

Investigate the mutated spiritual boars ravaging the western farmlands?

Excellent, her pantry was running low on pork stock.

But before she could embark on her grand, continent-spanning grocery shopping spree, she had a much more pressing, deeply personal mission to fulfill: returning her thirteen-year-old runaway brother, Lin Xuan, to the Azure Empire.

General Lin was likely already mobilizing an army to search for his youngest son in secret.

If Ji’an didn’t deliver the boy back to the estate soon, the Azure Empire might accidentally declare war on the local bandit population.

But leaving the sect required preparation.

And under the tyrannical, drunken tutelage of Jiu Zui, "preparation" meant absolute, unmitigated physical hell.

"Lower your stance! You look like a weeping willow in a breeze! You are a wok, Ji’an! Be the cast iron!" Jiu Zui bellowed from his hammock, lazily throwing an empty wine gourd at her head.

Ji’an ducked, the gourd shattering against a nearby peach tree.

She was currently standing in a horse stance, holding a massive, flat slab of raw spirit-iron in each hand, actively forcing the chaotic, boiling energy of her Harmonious Five-Grain Qi deep into her muscle fibers.

"I am compressing! I am compressing!" Ji’an wheezed, sweat pouring down her face, soaking her chest-binding until it was a suffocating, agonizing cage around her ribs.

Because Jiu Zui was blissfully aware that his prized "boy" apprentice was actually a girl, yet his training regimen was tailored for a sturdy, growing young man.