He had already left…
This parting would probably mean we couldn’t meet again for over a hundred years.
Away from water, under moonlight, my unformed body began to ache. I turned around, back against the rocks, looking toward the high, distant night sky, toward those eastern Azure Dragon Heaven constellations. Even my chest hurt so much I could barely breathe. I took a deep breath and forced back my tears.
Just as I was about to return to the sea, I heard a voice behind me: “I couldn’t find you for so many days because I never imagined you would choose demon transformation.”
I whirled around and found Yinze standing on my other side. I froze for a moment, covered my face, and jumped into the sea, but was violently grabbed by a divine force. Then this power yanked me hard and threw me on the shore. I rolled on the ground in pain, not only failing to reduce the pain but being bound even tighter.
Then Yinze slowly descended from the air, stopping before me, his black hair also floating down on his long robes: “Look at my disciple—so understanding, doing things one more admirable than the last. Luowei, I’ll give you one chance to explain. If reasonable, I can consider breaking one less of your legs.”
His tone was still as stern as always, these words not gentle at all, yet like a demon-revealing mirror, they exposed my sorry state of recent days.
I cried: “Master, please, spare me, let me go! I don’t want to be your disciple anymore!”
But he was very angry, bent down, grabbed my collar, and dragged me up from the ground: “Look at you—not only ugly now, but your voice is extremely unpleasant too.”
“If you despise me, then let me go!” I struggled trying to escape.
However, being away from water too long, not only did I feel terrible all over, but my voice became increasingly hoarse.
Yinze pressed down on my shoulders: “I’ll change you back now. Don’t move.”
“No! I want to become a demon!” I desperately pushed him, but my hands were caught by his.
Yinze said angrily, “If I must take a demon as a disciple, I’d rather kill her.”
“Then, Master, kill me! I don’t want to live so weakly! I’d rather die than live like this!”
Hearing this, Yinze looked at me, actually speechless.
Finally unable to endure anymore, I bit my lip as large tears fell: “Master knows what you’re thinking—disciple knows it all. You don’t need to deny it. Disciple isn’t wrong. Disciples’ birth isn’t good; they can’t become immortal, can’t become a god. Is it wrong for a disciple to want to live a bit longer…”
There were many, many more grievances that couldn’t be vented. The indescribable depression in my heart about separating from Master also couldn’t be explained in words. Finally, I covered my face, left only with uncontrollable sobbing.
Yinze said softly: “Neglecting you during this time was this master’s fault.”
I sobbed: “You just despise disciple…”
“No.”
“You just think disciple is neither understanding nor obedient, and short-lived, so you don’t want to waste time on disciple.”
“No.”
“You just look down on disciples, think disciples aren’t worthy to stand beside you.”
“No!”
Suddenly, Yinze forcefully pulled me into his embrace: “Wei’er, stop crying.” He paused, then tightened his hold: “Really, stop crying.”