The memories buried deep within his soul painted vivid pictures of his younger years on Earth. Cold streets, his only companions; empty fists, his only tools. He had fought, scraped, and struggled, turning solitude into strength. Then came the Army—where he found brothers and sisters in arms, a family forged in the fires of camaraderie. For them, he would fight to his last breath—had fought to his last breath.

In this life, however, he had known only warmth. Sheltered by endless love, he grew up safe, yet the unyielding will to protect carried over.

Now, with the combined will of both lives spurring him on, Jin Shu would let nothing stand in his way. Not Buddha, not demons, not gods, nor even the heavens themselves. Any who dared would face down the smoking barrel of his guns, and it would be the last thing they'd see.

Drawing a deep breath as he stirred from his memories, he murmured, “Nano, you’re wrong. I don’t enjoy killing. But if it’s to protect what’s dear to me, then it’s a good thing killing is what I’m best at.”

“If you say so,” Nano replied, sounding unconvinced.

----------------------------------------

The seventh night had finally arrived. Fan Biyu’s legs would be fully healed, and they could set out for the Immortal Phoenix Sect. These thoughts weighed on Jin Shu’s mind as he approached her room and knocked on the door.

Before his knuckles could meet the wood a second time, the door swung open.

Fan Biyu stood in the doorway, her dark green hair damp and her cheeks a delicate rosy hue, as though she’d just stepped out of a bath. A warm smile curved her lips, and Jin Shu felt his heart quicken at the sight. He silently willed himself to calm down, but the youthful side of his psyche roared within his soul, demanding more than just restraint.

Clearing his throat, he asked, “How are your legs feeling?” His voice was awkward as he fought to avoid eye contact.

“Fine,” she said, her smile unwavering. “Just a little numbness.”

She stepped aside, gesturing for him to come in. As Jin Shu passed her, her eyes flicked to the scratches on his face and his empty shoulder.

“Is Yin’er still upset?” she asked softly, her tone carrying a hint of guilt. She likely blamed herself since she had asked to keep Yin’er for the night.

“No, she’s fine now,” Jin Shu replied with a bright smile, thinking fondly of Yin’er’s antics. “Back to her usual rambunctious self.”

“That’s good.” A note of cheer returned to her voice.

“Well, let’s get the treatment done, shall we?” Jin Shu motioned toward the bed.

“Hm.” She nodded lightly, climbing onto the bed and pulling the hem of her robes up to her knees.

Jin Shu followed, kneeling in the space between her legs. He rubbed his hands together, allowing his qi to flow and settle into a steady rhythm. It served both to warm his palms and distract his thoughts. Once ready, he placed his hands on her calves and began kneading the soft skin. His touch was firm yet careful, the energy pulsing in gentle waves through her legs.

All the while, Jin Shu struggled to quiet his inner voice—the part of him still ruled by youthful impulses. His gaze repeatedly betrayed him, drawn to Fan Biyu’s beauty. He chastised himself but knew he couldn’t entirely blame his teenage self. She was simply too stunning, especially to someone in the throes of adolescence.

For her part, Fan Biyu leaned back against the headboard, her face tinged with a deep blush. A soft smile played on her lips as she watched him work. When Jin Shu glanced up briefly, their eyes met, and he quickly looked away, feeling the heat rise in his cheeks. Her expression was too much for him—too much for both sides of himself.

At least his body had adjusted to these nightly treatments, sparing him the more embarrassing reactions from earlier days.

Time passed both painfully slow and all too fast. Before long, the treatment was over. Jin Shu stood, ready to leave, but a gentle tug on his sleeve stopped him.

He turned, meeting her pleading gaze.

“Don’t go just yet,” she said softly. “Stay and chat with me for a while, please?”

Jin Shu hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “Uh… I guess I could.”

His body no longer overreacted as it once had, and he wasn’t in a rush tonight. A brief chat wouldn’t hurt.

They sat at the small table in her room, the silence stretching between them. Jin Shu opened his mouth to say something just as Biyu did the same. Their gazes met, and they both gestured for the other to go first. Another beat passed, and once again they tried speaking over each other, their words colliding awkwardly.

After a few more false starts, they finally broke into laughter at the sheer absurdity of it all.

Biyu’s laughter gradually faded. “Jin Shu, you speak first.”

He hesitated, about to protest, but thought better of it. If he argued, they might spend the entire night deciding who should go first. “Alright… I’ve always been curious. How did you become my mother’s disciple?”

“She saved my life,” Biyu replied, a sad smile tugging at her lips.

“She did? How?” Jin Shu asked, but the melancholy in her expression made him hesitate. “Uh, only if you’re comfortable sharing.”

“No, it’s fine,” she said softly. “I’ll tell you. It’s… a long story, though.”

“That’s okay,” he reassured her with a gentle smile. “I have time.”

Biyu paused, organizing her thoughts. “Let’s see… where do I start? I’ve never told anyone this story before, so I guess I should start at the beginning.” She took a deep breath. “When I was young, I was… different from everyone else in my village. Even as a child, I was stronger than most of the adults.”

“So, you were born with the talent of a cultivator?” Jin Shu asked.

“Not exactly…” she murmured, trailing off. “I was born with a special physique. Cultivators call people like me Heaven’s Blessed. But for me, it was more of a curse than a blessing.”

“How so?” Jin Shu asked, puzzled. “Isn’t being Heaven’s Blessed something to celebrate?”

“For those who understand what it means to be Heaven’s Blessed, maybe. But to a small village of mortals? I was an outlier, a freak, even a monster. It didn’t help that my features changed—my hair and eyes turned to this jade color.” She gestured to her green hair and eyes.

“Oh…” Jin Shu blinked. “I thought those were natural…”

“They are, technically,” she explained. “It’s part of my physique. But the people in my village didn’t know that. To them, I was a monster—or worse, a carrier of misfortune. The withering of the crops since my birth? That became my fault.”

“And your parents? Surely they didn’t believe that,” Jin Shu said, leaning forward.

“I never knew my mother,” Biyu said, her voice tightening. “She died during childbirth. As for my father…” Her hands clenched into fists, knuckles whitening. “He blamed me for her death. He was the first to call me a monster—long before anyone knew I was different.” Tears welled in her eyes, trembling on the verge of falling.

Jin Shu’s chest tightened at her words. “Ah, Biyu… you don’t have to talk about this if it’s too painful.”

This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

He regretted asking her, the weight of her story pressing on him like a stone.

She held back her tears, her voice trembling but resolute. “No, I need to tell my story.”

Jin Shu hesitated for a moment before standing and moving to sit beside her. He awkwardly wrapped an arm around her shoulders, the gesture clumsy but sincere. This was the first time in either of his lives that he’d tried to comfort someone. “It’s okay to cry,” he said gently. The words felt inadequate, but they were all he could muster.

“I’m not going to cry over something like this,” she said, her voice sharp with defiance. But the tears streaming down her face told another story, betraying the dam that had burst within her.

Without a word, Jin Shu pulled her closer. She didn’t resist, allowing her head to rest against his shoulder. Slowly, softly, she began to weep.

Her sobs were quiet, barely audible, yet Jin Shu could feel the weight of her pain in every shaky breath. It was a sound that pierced deeper than any scream, and it filled the room with an unspoken sorrow.

He tightened his hold slightly, his fingers brushing against her arm in a silent reassurance. For now, words were unnecessary. All he could do was offer her his presence and hope it was enough.

Sniff…

Gradually, her sobbing subsided. “I’m alright now.” Biyu placed a gentle hand on his chest, pushing herself back slightly. “Thank you…” she whispered, so softly that Jin Shu barely caught her words.

He opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came. Somehow, a simple you’re welcome didn’t feel adequate. Instead, he nodded silently, offering her a reassuring look.

Biyu exhaled slowly, her gaze distant as she continued. “It was when I turned sixteen that the villagers—led by my father—decided I was better off dead. To this day, I’m still surprised they even let me live that long…”

Her voice faltered briefly before she pressed on. “They tied me up with the strongest ropes they could find. But they were so brittle, I could have snapped them with a single tug. Even so, I didn’t fight back. I was so sad… so lonely. I thought maybe it would be better to let them kill me. To just disappear forever.”

Her words hung in the air like a heavy weight, and her expression became so desolate that Jin Shu couldn’t remain silent.

“That’s not true!” he burst out, his fists clenching. “No one deserves to die like that—well, no, that’s wrong. You didn’t deserve it. What they did to you wasn’t your fault! They were… they are disgusting humans! If anyone deserves condemnation, it was them!” His voice trembled with anger, and by the end, he was panting, his chest rising and falling sharply.

Biyu stared at him, her eyes wide for a moment, before a soft laugh bubbled out of her.

“What?” Jin Shu frowned. “Did I say something wrong?”

“No, not at all,” she said, shaking her head with a small smile. “It’s just… Master said something very similar.”

“My mother?” His brows furrowed. “What did she say?”

Biyu’s expression softened as she recounted the memory. “When the villagers—no, when my father—was about to plunge a knife into my heart, Master appeared. I don’t even know where she came from; one moment I was resigned to my fate, and the next I heard gasps and looked up to see her standing in front of me, shielding me.”

She paused, taking a deep breath as her voice wavered. “Master asked them, ‘What has this young girl done to you that she should die?’”

“My father replied, ‘She killed my wife!’”

“And the villagers added, ‘She’s a monster that brings misfortune!’”

“Master calmly responded, ‘The only monsters I see here are the ones about to kill an innocent child.’ Her voice was steady, unwavering. Then, with a wave of her hand, fire burst forth, searing the skin of the villagers. Each of them was branded with the word ‘Monster’ on their foreheads.”

“My father wasn’t spared either,” Biyu continued, her tone shifting to a mix of awe and sorrow. “But unlike the others, his entire body was marked. Words like ‘Monster,’ ‘Garbage,’ ‘Scum,’ and countless others appeared, burning into his flesh. It was as if Master’s fire had spoken the truth of their souls.”

“Then Master said, ‘You vile humans will live with this condemnation for the rest of your lives.’ Her words carried so much weight, like an unshakable judgment. The villagers fell to their knees, weeping, but Master didn’t stay to watch. Somehow, in the blink of an eye, we were miles away from the village. Just the two of us standing in a quiet forest.”

Biyu’s expression softened, her voice growing quieter. “That’s when she turned to me and said, ‘You will become my first disciple.’”

She stopped, the memory lingering in the air between them. Jin Shu watched her carefully, his anger at the villagers slowly giving way to admiration for his mother’s decisive actions.

“She saved you in every way,” he said softly, breaking the silence.

“She did,” Biyu replied, her lips curving into a faint smile. “And I’ve done my best to live up to her faith in me ever since.”

After a brief silence. “You would have saved me as well,” She said suddenly, her voice filled with quiet certainty.

Jin Shu blinked, caught off guard. After a moment, he tried to lighten the mood with a joke. “Well, I wouldn’t have taken you as a disciple, though.”

“Oh?” Her lips curved into a teasing smile. “Then what would you have done?”

“You’re so beautiful, I would have asked you to be my wife,” he said with a laugh, expecting to get a rise out of her.

“Okay,” she said softly, her cheeks blooming with a blush.

“Wait, what?” He blinked, unsure if he’d heard her correctly. “What did you say?”

“I said I’d be your wife,” she repeated, leaning closer.

Jin Shu instinctively leaned back, but she grabbed his shoulders, holding him firmly in place. So strong, was his first thought, followed by a stark reminder of her cultivation level. She was at the 8th stage of the Qi Realm, far above his 4th stage, despite his strength surpassing most 6th or 7th stage cultivators.

His thoughts scattered as her face drew closer, her warm breath brushing against his skin. Just as their lips were about to meet—

Bang! Bang!

“Daddy! You left me alone again!” Yin’er’s high-pitched voice rang out from behind the door. “Are you sleeping with Big Sister Biyu? Wake up!”

The spell was shattered. Jin Shu and Biyu froze, their eyes wide before they hurriedly separated.

Clearing his throat, Jin Shu quickly stood and made his way to the door. He opened it and looked down to find Yin’er sitting on the step, her fluffy cheeks puffed out in an exaggerated pout.

Jin Shu couldn’t help but laugh at Yin’er’s exaggerated pout. His tiny baby tiger was just too adorable. “Hello, Yin’er. Daddy was just about to come back, okay?”

Her pout softened, but she stayed quiet for a moment before nodding. “Okay.”

“Alright, let’s go then,” he said with a smile, scooping her up into his arms.

As he turned to leave, Biyu’s voice called out, “Why don’t you two stay here?”

Yin’er perked up, nodding enthusiastically. “Yeah! Big Sister Biyu is more comfortable than Daddy. She’s soft and squishy. Daddy’s too hard—so not comfortable.”

Jin Shu froze, his face instantly heating. Without turning back, he continued walking, his voice steady despite the blush creeping up his neck. “Goodnight, Biyu,” he called over his shoulder, quickly closing the door behind him.