Chapter 10

Chapter 10: Closed-Door Disciple

“What? A closed-door disciple?”

Lu Nan Feng froze where he stood. Beside him, An Ze’s eyes widened, and even Bai Yang—still kneeling in the courtyard—lifted his head as if he’d misheard.

Song Wan Ning hadn’t taken a disciple in more than 10 years. She’d even said, plainly and without room for debate, that she wouldn’t take any more.

All these years, nearly all of her attention had been on the three of them.

And now, out of nowhere, a little junior sister appeared.

None of them could pretend they felt comfortable.

“Master,” An Ze said, stepping forward. His gaze swept over the girl at Song Wan Ning’s side—thin wrists, lowered head, plain clothes—and his displeasure sharpened into something almost open. “Didn’t you say you didn’t want to take any more disciples?”

He didn’t wait for an answer before sneering, “Just three spiritual roots? And you want to make her a true disciple of Cloudsky Peak?”

If a three-spirit-root girl became their junior sister, what would the sect think? What would everyone say about him?

“Master,” Lu Nan Feng added quickly, trying to keep his voice calm, “taking a disciple isn’t something you decide on a whim. Please think it over.”

In the cultivation world, accepting a disciple wasn’t a small matter.

A master for a day, a parent for life—those weren’t empty words. Once a bond was formed, it meant teaching, guiding, protecting. It meant standing behind that person when the world came for them.

That was why both sides had to choose carefully.

Lu Nan Feng’s throat tightened. The three of them had entered Song Wan Ning’s tutelage because their talent was exceptional. But this girl… what did she have?

Even Bai Yang’s expression darkened. He’d been kneeling here for days, his injuries still unhealed, and Song Wan Ning hadn’t so much as asked after him.

Yet she brought someone back.

Resentment rose like bile in his chest.

Song Wan Ning’s eyes swept over them—cool, unhurried.

“When I take a disciple,” she said, “do I need your approval?”

An Ze’s jaw clenched.

Song Wan Ning reached down and took Li Ruo’s small hand. Her tone turned almost casual, the way one might speak of the weather. “From today on, she is your Junior Sister. I don’t care what her talent is. If I like her, that’s enough.”

Then she led Li Ruo up the steps and into the main hall.

She didn’t look at Bai Yang once.

Bai Yang’s fists tightened until his knuckles whitened. He stared at their backs so hard his vision blurred at the edges, and still he couldn’t tear his eyes away.

Lu Nan Feng exhaled slowly, forcing steadiness into his voice. “Eldest Senior Brother… what’s going on with Master? Why would she suddenly take a disciple?”

An Ze gave a harsh, irritated laugh. “What else could it be?”

He lowered his voice, but the malice in it cut sharp anyway. “We’ve been making her angry lately. This is her way of getting back at us—taking a disciple on purpose to spite us.”

He spat the last words as if they tasted foul. “Fine. Let her stay smug. She took in someone like that—she’ll regret it.”

An Ze had begun to resent Song Wan Ning with a bitterness he didn’t dare show to her face. Behind her back, his complaints never stopped. In his eyes, she’d become petty—jealous, grasping, like an inner-courtyard woman fighting for attention.

Even if her cultivation was profound and her strength terrifying, he no longer took her seriously.

Bai Yang’s brows sank. His fingers loosened, then clenched again.

So that was it.

Master was angry at him. That was why she ignored him. That was why she brought someone back to stand where he used to stand.

He glanced down at his knees. Song Wan Ning hadn’t even allowed him to use spiritual power to protect himself. The punishment was real—raw and humiliating.

And still, no order to rise.

It seemed she truly was furious.

But Bai Yang’s pride flared stubbornly. He didn’t think he’d been wrong.

If Master wouldn’t speak to him, then he wouldn’t speak to Master either.

Let’s see who gives in first.

For years, he’d relied on Song Wan Ning’s favor like it was something he owned. Even now, he couldn’t quite believe it could be taken away.

Inside the main hall, Song Wan Ning studied the little girl in front of her.

When she’d found Li Ruo, the child had been pinned down and kicked like a stray dog. Yet her eyes had stayed clear—bright with a stubborn, astonishing light.

Song Wan Ning had met Li Ruo in her previous life.

Back then, Song Wan Ning had already been driven into demonic corruption, hunted everywhere like a beast. During one encirclement, she’d been badly injured and tumbled into a mountain valley.

That was where she’d encountered Li Ruo.

Li Ruo had already been at the Foundation Establishment Stage then, training alone in the valley. She’d recognized Song Wan Ning at once.

And yet she hadn’t raised an alarm. She hadn’t harmed her. Instead, she’d hidden her in the valley and pressed every pill she had into Song Wan Ning’s hands.

When the people dearest to her had abandoned her, a stranger with no ties had been the one to save her.

Song Wan Ning hadn’t understood it at the time.

Li Ruo had only said she’d once received kindness from Song Wan Ning within the sect. It had been nothing—just a single sentence, enough to stop other disciples from beating her for a moment.

But Li Ruo had carried it in her heart for years.

Originally, Song Wan Ning had thought to place her with the Song Family. But the Song Family’s future in this life was uncertain, and she didn’t want repaying a debt to turn into dragging Li Ruo into disaster.

If she sent her to the Outer Sect, Song Wan Ning couldn’t guarantee someone wouldn’t target her in secret when she wasn’t watching.

After turning it over again and again, accepting her as a disciple was the safest choice.

“Grandmaster Song,” Li Ruo said softly, twisting the hem of her sleeve between her fingers, “I-I should go back, right?”

The inferiority in her eyes was hard to miss.

Three spiritual roots. Low concentration. In the Outer Sect, she was the kind of disciple anyone could push around.

With aptitude like hers, what right did she have to stand here?

Song Wan Ning’s expression softened. She reached out and patted Li Ruo’s head.

“Since I’m taking you in,” she said, “you naturally have something worth taking.”

Li Ruo blinked.

Song Wan Ning’s smile was faint, but her voice carried weight. “Some people have excellent talent. But if they don’t remember kindness, their ending may not be good.”

Li Ruo’s fingers paused.

“Li Ruo,” Song Wan Ning said, “from today on, you are my disciple.”

The words landed like a warm seal, firm and undeniable.

“You don’t need to feel inferior,” Song Wan Ning continued. “You are not worse than anyone.”

“Really?” Li Ruo lifted her head.

Her eyes were round and dark like grapes, shining so brightly it hurt to look at them. Her cheeks were full and soft, like a ripe peach that hadn’t yet been bitten.

Song Wan Ning couldn’t help smiling. She gave those cheeks a gentle squeeze and nodded. “Really.”

Warmth flooded Li Ruo’s gaze, and her face broke open into a dazzling grin.

From now on, she had a Master.

—

Bai Yang knelt for seven full days before Song Wan Ning finally allowed the punishment to end.

The moment he stood, a sharp ache shot through his knees. He rubbed them with a grim expression, jaw tight.

Song Wan Ning hadn’t allowed him to shield himself with spiritual power. These days, he’d truly knelt on both knees, every moment grinding humiliation into flesh.

If he hadn’t also cultivated body refinement, his knees would’ve been ruined.

Lu Nan Feng stepped closer, worry plain on his face. “Eldest Senior Brother, are you all right?”

“I’m fine.” Bai Yang brushed away Lu Nan Feng’s hand when he tried to support him, then coughed a few times, his chest tight.

“You’re still injured,” Lu Nan Feng insisted. “And you’ve been kneeling for days. You should go rest.”

He glanced at An Ze, then made a decision before either of them could argue. “I’ll go to the Pill Repository Pavilion and get you some pills. Once you take them, you’ll recover quickly.”

Lu Nan Feng motioned for An Ze to take Bai Yang away. With the two of them together—both stubborn, both simmering—another clash with Song Wan Ning would be too easy.

He sighed. The unease in his heart had been growing for days, heavy and shapeless.

Master had changed.

And he didn’t know what to do with that.

When Lu Nan Feng entered the hall, Song Wan Ning was speaking quietly with Li Ruo.

He paused at the threshold, hesitated, then stepped forward anyway. “Master, I’m going to the Pill Repository Pavilion to get some pills for Eldest Senior Brother.”

Each month, Song Wan Ning gave them a fixed amount of pills. They weren’t like the ones sold outside—hers were high-grade, sometimes even top-grade, with almost no pill toxins. They never harmed one’s foundation.

That was why, for years, they’d never needed to buy pills.

As for the pills the sect distributed, they’d always looked down on them. Most of the time, they simply gave them away.

Now Bai Yang was injured, and An Ze still hadn’t fully recovered. Lu Nan Feng’s first instinct was still to rely on Song Wan Ning.

Song Wan Ning stopped mid-sentence. Her gaze slid to him—calm, unreadable.