Master~

She opened her mouth, about to press him for more.

Yang Xing withdrew his finger.

"That's enough of an introduction for now."

Ning Rongrong's expression froze.

"We'll talk about the rest later." Yang Xing's tone was as casual as if they were discussing dinner. "These are enough for you to use for the time being."

Ning Rongrong curled her lips in dissatisfaction and shot him a sidelong glance. "Hmph, don't tell me these are the only soul skills you have? Are you just putting on a show for this young lady?"

Yang Xing looked at her and smiled without speaking. That inscrutable, faintly teasing expression only made Ning Rongrong feel even less certain.

Ning Rongrong stared at him. Her almond-shaped eyes plainly conveyed her frustration and regret: Keep talking. Why did you stop?

Yang Xing ignored her stare.

He tilted his head toward Ning Rongrong and smiled. The smile was open and candid, carrying the calm ease of something naturally falling into place.

"So, Miss Ning Rongrong."

His voice softened.

"Do you still refuse to let me become your master?"

The room fell silent.

Ning Rongrong pressed her lips into a thin line.

Wind Empress Qimen, Heaven-Piercing Talisman, Divine Mechanism Hundred Refinements, Twin Complete Hands, Qi Body Origin Stream, Spirit Binding and Command.

Six soul skills. Every single one was something she had never even heard of.

And that meant the man before her was at least a six-ringed Soul Emperor.

An eighteen-year-old six-ringed Soul Emperor was absolutely an extraordinary genius.

If she said she was unwilling now, she would be an idiot.

But if she readily agreed now...

Ning Rongrong felt as though her pride were burning.

Her lips moved several times. Her voice caught in her throat, neither rising nor falling.

"I..."

"This young lady can..."

"You..."

She changed her opening three times, but not a single sentence took shape.

Her face was red enough to bleed, her earlobes looked scalded, and even the skin of her neck had flushed pink. The fingers clutching her skirt twisted until her knuckles turned white. Her stammering appearance was utterly unlike the usually imperious young lady of the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Sect.

Yang Xing watched her without urging her on.

Five seconds. Ten seconds.

Ning Rongrong took a deep breath. She closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them again, struggle still lingered in those almond eyes, but it was overshadowed by the resolve of someone throwing caution to the wind.

"This young lady can... agree to it."

Her voice was as quiet as a mosquito's buzz.

She abruptly raised her chin and sped up her words. "But those soul skills you showed me, and what you said about being able to teach them to me, had better all be real."

She glared at Yang Xing.

"Otherwise, this young lady will make you regret it."

Yang Xing narrowed his eyes and smiled.

"Guaranteed. Absolutely guaranteed."

His tone was light, as though he were humming a tune.

Ning Rongrong looked at his smiling face, and the taut string in her chest that had been stretched tight all day finally loosened.

The moment it did, the nature of a twelve-year-old girl returned.

"Really?!"

Like a different person, she darted in front of Yang Xing and slapped both hands onto his arm. Her eyes shone as brightly as stars.

"Then teach me already! Hurry up, teach me! I want to learn all of them! I want to learn the Heaven-Piercing Talisman, I want to learn Wind Empress Qimen, and I want to learn that one that can make wooden animals too! And that one with endless soul power! All of them! You're not allowed to leave out a single one!"

She patted Yang Xing's arm faster and faster, like she was beating a drum.

Then she suddenly stopped.

She tipped up her face and blinked.

The urgency in her almond eyes shifted into a deliberately affected softness. Her lips pursed slightly, her chin tucked in, and her lashes fluttered twice.

"Master~"

Her voice was sweet enough to melt.

A textbook Ning Rongrong-style act of coquettishness. The kind that had never failed in the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Sect.

"Master, teach me quickly, okay~?"

Yang Xing shuddered all over at that "Master."

Not because it felt bad. Because it felt too good.

This girl's coquettish act was seriously unfair. With that exquisite face and those watery eyes, who could withstand it?

He cleared his throat, then could not resist reaching out to pat Ning Rongrong's head.

It was such a natural gesture. His hand slid from the crown of her head to the back of it, and it felt wonderfully soft.

Ning Rongrong's expression stiffened for a moment.

A tiny crack appeared in her sweet smile.

Having someone pat her head... no one besides her father, Ning Fengzhi, had ever done that since the day she was born. Yet now, a man she had known for less than two hours had touched her head.

The hairs on her back stood up.

But she swallowed it down.

The smile at the corner of her lips froze for less than half a second before she forced it back into place. The curve was stiffer than before, but at least it remained on her face.

"Mhm." She gave a vague response, her eyes holding both a smile and an impatient urge. "Master, hurry up and tell me. Which one are you teaching first?"

Yang Xing looked at her little face, smiling somewhat stiffly yet still trying hard to keep it up, and inwardly burst with delight.

That was more like it. What a good, obedient disciple.

He enjoyed the thrill of being a revered master admired by his disciple for about three seconds, then withdrew the hand resting on Ning Rongrong's head.

"No rush, no rush. It's a small matter."

He waved a hand, looking as relaxed as if he had agreed to something utterly trivial.

"I can teach you all of them, without leaving out a single one. But..."

He suddenly turned his head and looked at Ning Rongrong.

Their gazes met.

Ning Rongrong's coquettish eyes met Yang Xing's suddenly more serious expression, and she paused.

"Good disciple, have you forgotten something?"

Ning Rongrong tilted her head.

Yang Xing smiled, his tone unhurried.

"The method I promised you before, for deducing how to turn the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Pagoda into the Nine Treasure Glazed Tile Pagoda."

Ning Rongrong's expression changed.

A faint hesitation surfaced in her previously sparkling eyes. She frowned and studied Yang Xing's face, her lips turning downward.

"You're not seriously going to do this, are you?"

There was no anticipation in her voice, only a subtle lack of faith. As though she feared he would ruin a good hand of cards.

"Forget it." Ning Rongrong waved her hand, as casually as though shooing away an unwelcome fly. "As long as you're willing to teach this young lady those two soul skills from earlier, I'm already willing to acknowledge you as my master."

She looked at Yang Xing, and her tone unexpectedly softened, even carrying a trace of sincere advice.

"There's no need to make up such false things. It might even make this young lady think less of you."

This was Ning Rongrong's way of giving him dignity.

She did not say, "You can't make it up." She said, "Don't make it up."

She was giving him a way out.

After hearing that, Yang Xing reached up and scratched the back of his head.

His expression was slightly contemplative and somewhat lazy, as if he were weighing something unimportant. He scratched the back of his head twice, his gaze drifting toward the hole in the roof cut open by the wind blade.

Sunlight streamed through the hole, shining across half his face.

A few seconds later, he let out a breath as though resigning himself to it.

"Fine."

Yang Xing lowered his hand and looked at Ning Rongrong, a carefree smile at the corner of his lips.

"But whether you believe it or not, since I promised, I'll make good on it. I'll do a simple deduction and tell you, my good disciple."

He paused.

"Believe it or not, that's up to you."

Ning Rongrong heard this, and helplessness surfaced on her face, mixed with a touch of disdain.

Her lips moved as if she wanted to say something, but she swallowed it back down.

Forget it.

She was still counting on this bargain-bin master she had just accepted to teach her those miraculous soul skills. Wind Empress Qimen, Heaven-Piercing Talisman, and all those strange fire-controlling, lightning-controlling, shape-shifting techniques.

If she learned them all, who would dare call her, Ning Rongrong, nothing but a decorative support-type who could only stand in the backline?

At the thought of that image—of slaughtering her way across the battlefield and leaving everyone dumbfounded—the corners of Ning Rongrong's lips rose uncontrollably.

Her eyes curved.

Her expression completely fell apart.

She smiled without a shred of a young lady's restraint.

Yang Xing was watching her.

Ning Rongrong noticed his gaze, and her face immediately tightened again. She cleared her throat and coughed twice.

"Cough, cough."

She resumed that reluctantly agreeable posture, raising her chin slightly and looking down at Yang Xing from above the bridge of her nose.

"Then go ahead and deduce it."

After a brief pause, she added.

"This young lady will reluctantly listen."