Strictness naturally had its benefits.
Traditional master-disciple instruction mostly emphasized independent study and understanding. Their relationship could be said to follow its natural course, without imposing any particular demands.
Usually, a master would answer when asked, but would not take the initiative to teach otherwise. Cultivation was a personal matter, after all. If you could not be bothered yourself, no amount of pressure from others would help.
But in Cong Huaijin's eyes, her martial uncle was different from everyone else. Not only did he insist that she read the classics thoroughly, he also kept track of her understanding of cultivation methods and her mastery of Spells.
She never even needed to ask. Between his daily urging and the surprise tests sprung on her every few days, her young face was perpetually scrunched into a picture of misery. She was always worried that she had not worked hard enough or mastered enough.
Never mind Cong Huaijin's worries—Jiang Yang was worried he would do a poor job himself.
He had no other choice. This was his first time acting as a teacher, and he was terrified of leading the child astray, so he could only copy the gourd by following its outline, drawing on his experiences from his previous life.
Whatever the case, Jiang Yang had certainly turned up the intensity of her daily routine.
His Mystic Pupils were still undergoing Containment, and these eighty-one days were crucial. Jiang Yang had no intention of going anywhere. It would be bad if some unexpected incident forced him to open his eyes early, so he simply stayed in the courtyard, teaching Cong Huaijin all day.
In the blink of an eye, more than two months flew by.
Cong Huaijin stood beneath the Moon-White Spirit-Clear Elm, forming hand seals and chanting incantations as she repeatedly