Cultivation Retirement Plan (BL)

3. Two Perspectives

Nan Wuyue's expression froze on his face before he lowered his head. "I—"

"Don't talk," Mo Yixuan interrupted. If he was going to hear shizun, shizun ad infinitum today, then it was better to nip it in the bud.

Obediently, Nan Wuyue fell silent, but he didn't stop stealing pitiful looks at his master. Beneath it all, resentment burned in his chest. It was common for his master to issue commands like these, forcing him into obedience by the strength of his will. Stronger cultivators could pressure weaker ones to do their bidding, and Mo Yixuan had delighted in flaunting his dominance over his disciple this way.

Don't talk, and he'd be left mute for the rest of the day.

Don't listen, and he'd turn deaf.

Don't look, don't touch, don't taste.

Don't breathe.

A cultivator had ways to survive without stretches of oxygen, but the young Nan Wuyue had simply been too weak to resist the absolute instructions of his master. He would lose consciousness from lack of air, thus breaking the hold of the command, only to wake to his master's smiling face as he repeated the exact same order over and over again.

Nan Wuyue had desperately tried to figure out what he'd done wrong before he realized it was only his master toying with him as always. He had always been the mouse and Mo Yixuan a particularly sick and leisurely cat, batting him about to wit's end before pulling him from the brink. Perhaps their game could have gone on forever if he hadn't died first.

This time would be different. He'd tear off Mo Yixuan's tongue, gouge out his eyes, and cut the tips off his fingers and toes. For every slight and humiliation suffered, he'd force his dear master to pay back in spades and crawl at his feet. One by one, step by step...

"Mo Yixuan..." Nan Wuyue muttered under his breath, and suddenly realized that he could talk.

Master hadn't forced his will on him this time?

Why not?

But Mo Yixuan had already heard him with and looked back silently. It seemed that there was more to the little disciple who called him "shizun" in public and "Mo Yixuan" behind his back.

"Do you have the right to use that name?" Mo Yixuan asked. For a cultivation sect that thrived on hierarchy, Nan Wuyue's attitude was awfully lax.

Immediately, the teen fell to his knees. "May shizun mete punishment for this disciple!"

Inside, his mind was racing. It was a trap! His master had relied on his assumption of the usual commands to catch him off guard. All of Mo Yixuan's actions had been strange today—from ignoring his provocations, to jumping off the cliff, and now openly confronting his words. His master had never been so direct, so what had changed?

Was he just that poor at reading Mo Yixuan's thoughts? Or had the man gotten craftier? Did he truly soak himself in the qi refining pool and gain something from its waters?

"I said it already, I'm not your shizun." The clear, cool tones of his master's voice rang out in Nan Wuyue's ears.

—

Mo Yixuan folded his hands behind his back and gazed out into the distance. Even if he wasn't going to admit that he'd taken over this body, he had no desire to automatically assume its duties and burdens. Who would for a stranger, if given the choice? "Whatever conflicts you have with him has nothing to do with me."

Absolving responsibility? Nan Wuyue was filled with disdain. But he simply kowtowed and rested his forehead against the ground.

"From the moment shizun took me in as your disciple, I've known no other master. Shizun, we even combined drops of blood on the jade slip hung in the Hall of Disciples. Unless shizun breaks the slip, we'll remain as teacher and student!"