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Ning Ning squinted against the light, watching the perpetually smiling young man wave at her.

Though she was reluctant to admit it, this Sword Cultivator, who looked very much like a dissolute playboy, was indeed her master.

That's right, the ethereal, fairy-like figure standing beside him was her senior brother, Meng Jue.

One could tell from the wildly arrogant title "Tian Xianzi" that their master had always been one to go his own way.

He was considered a legendary figure within the Xuanxu Sword Sect. In order to learn every sword style in the world, he spent three hundred days out of the year traveling across all corners of the land. He rarely attended any meetings, big or small; he was either nowhere to be found, off on his travels, or buried in head-down practice of newly learned sword techniques.

Beyond that, the man was an absolute sword fanatic. Whenever he saw a sword he liked, he couldn't wait to buy it. Despite being several hundred years old, he was still a "moonlight clan" member who spent every cent he earned by the end of the month.

According to the original novel, the moment Tian Xianzi returned to the sect, he heard the news that Ning Ning had been defeated by an outer disciple. Being a man who especially loved to join in the excitement, he immediately flew his sword to the competition arena, where he witnessed the scene of Pei Ji struggling in a bitter fight against Chen Zhao.

Then, with a slap to his forehead, he decided in a way that perfectly fit his character: This is a genius! He shall be my disciple from now on.

And so, Pei Ji soared from an outer disciple to become the personal disciple of Elder Tianxian, his life turned completely upside down, no longer subject to the bullying of others.

A dull thud echoed from the stage as the greatsword hit the ground. Chen Zhao finally lost consciousness and collapsed. Beside him, the black-clad youth panted, his thin chest rising and falling gently.

Blood trickled down from his clothes, and a patch of crimson bloomed where his cheek had been grazed by sword qi. Against his black hair and pale skin, it was a soul-stirring sight.

Though Pei Ji was in a sorry state, his spine remained straight. As if sensing something, he lifted his murky, pitch-black eyes.

He met the gaze of Tian Xianzi, who was hovering on his sword.

Ning Ning knew it: it was a done deal.

"Not bad."

The young man on the sword had naturally smiling lips. With just a light curve of his brows and eyes, he exuded an air of spring breezes and melting snow. His tone was as irreverent as ever: "Do you want to be my disciple?"

At this moment, he looked so refined, graceful, and immortal. His new disciple would surely never forget this dashing appearance and would henceforth make "Master is the best in the world" his catchphrase.

It was just a pity that the moment the words "do you want to" left his mouth, Pei Ji, exhausted, braced himself with his sword and knelt on one knee.

He even closed his eyes.

Tian Xianzi: ...

Give a guy a chance to look cool, brother.

The fact that an unknown outer disciple had been taken on as a personal disciple by a single word from an elder sent the competition arena into an uproar.

What was an outer disciple? Someone with meager spiritual energy and mediocre talent, not even qualified to enter the inner sect. For them, just speaking a single word to an elder was a stroke of luck.

To leap to become a personal disciple after just one match?

It was simply inconceivable.

Pei Ji had lost consciousness, and Tian Xianzi, deeply intrigued by the surging sword energy within him, trotted happily after him toward the medical hall on Tianhe Peak.

Seeing that the dust had finally settled, Ning Ning was just planning to return to her small courtyard to rest when she caught sight of a figure in white beside her, completely caught off guard.

It was her senior brother, Meng Jue.

When it came to the path of the sword, her senior brother had reached a level of divine mastery; in terms of actual combat, he had remained undefeated for years, making him the undisputed head disciple of the sect.

Compared to Tian Xianzi, who lacked any sense of decorum, the steady and gentle-natured Meng Jue was much more like their master.

It was said that this senior brother was as clear and bright as the breeze and the moon, always wearing a smile at the corners of his lips. Only Ning Ning knew that this man was an absolute black-hearted lotus.

Before entering the immortal gate, Meng Jue had been the only son of a wealthy merchant family. Because his parents had trusted a villain, their entire family was wiped out when he was twelve, and their assets were seized by his father's most trusted friend.

It was only thanks to his mother, who had sacrificed her life to buy time, that a loyal servant was able to smuggle him out of the estate, allowing him to find a sliver of survival amidst a brush with death.

From then on, Meng Jue never trusted anyone.

Although he was polite and proper to everyone, he never gave his heart, maintaining an intangible, untouchable distance.

The gentler he was while smiling and chatting with you, the more decisive and composed his hand would be when he struck you down with a single sword stroke the day he discovered your betrayal.

It was easy to imagine how deeply he must have loathed the original owner of this body for her constant self-destructive behavior in the later stages of the original novel.

Ning Ning glanced at his smiling eyes, reined in her thoughts, and called out, "Senior Brother."

As they didn't have much contact these days, Meng Jue simply regarded her as a spoiled and unruly junior sister. While he had no fondness for her, he didn't exactly loathe her either.

He returned her smile. "Junior Sister Ning Ning. Before Master left, he asked me to pass on a message: you must practice diligently and strive to improve your swordsmanship as soon as possible."

He was clearly talking about her losing to an outer-sect disciple.

Ning Ning nodded obediently, guessing that it was time for her to "make trouble" again. Sure enough, a buzzing sound echoed in her mind.

[Ding-dong!]

[Meng Jue is a master of the sword with profound cultivation. Although you know he dislikes your spoiled and willful personality, you are helpless against him. Why not try a beauty trap? Once he falls for you, wouldn't his secret techniques and treasures be yours for the taking?]

[Please say the following lines to Meng Jue.]

Then came a string of words so cringeworthy they were hard to look at. Ning Ning wanted to cover her eyes and scream: My eyes! My eyes!

Original owner, this kind of thinking is not healthy.

Why are you always trying to fish for benefits from others? You have arms and legs, and you're a celebrated sword prodigy—why are you so obsessed with clinging to other people's coattails?

If you really hate them, wouldn't it be more satisfying to work hard, practice diligently, and beat them until they're crawling on the floor?

Ning Ning could not wrap her head around it.

But the system didn't care whether she understood or not; the lines had to be recited.

"Senior Brother."

She was supposed to put on a fragile and sorrowful expression while saying this, but she didn't have the thick skin for it. She remained expressionless and motionless throughout, like a line-reciting machine: "I am so heartbroken that I lost to Pei Ji."

Meng Jue: "Mm."

"Now even Master wants to take him as a disciple. I have no one else to rely on; only you can help me, Senior Brother."

Meng Jue stopped speaking.