Chapter Twenty-Eight: The Master Is Not Mad

I struggled desperately and pushed my master away!

With a crash, the teacup fell to the ground and shattered to pieces.

I shot up from my seat, my heart pounding in my chest. Only then did I realize I had dozed off beside the table, drifting unknowingly into a nightmare where everything had become jumbled and chaotic.

I swallowed instinctively, my throat parched and sore. I’d been so busy all day that I’d forgotten to drink any water. I longed for a pear from the Valley of Memories, but those belonged to my master's wife. Without my master's permission, I dared not risk further trouble.

Noticing that night had already fallen outside, I thought it best not to invite any more unhappiness. The image of my master’s madness in the dream was terrifying.

The next day, when I brought him tea, my master showed no sign of being poisoned, had not lost his senses, nor become the dreadful figure from my dream—everything was normal. That dream of mine was truly ridiculous; even if my master had lost his mind, he would never mistake me for his wife. We looked nothing alike, and besides, I was a “male immortal.”

My master asked who had made the tea and refreshments, and I truthfully replied that I’d learned from my fourteenth senior brother.

He remained expressionless, neither praising nor criticizing the taste, only instructing me to withdraw.

On the day of my master's wife’s birthday, so as not to be an eyesore, I sensibly left Jade Void Palace after completing my cultivation, and went alone to the Cliff of Pursuing Immortals. I thought, at this moment, he must be by the Stillwater Lake in the Valley of Memories, missing his beloved.

In past years, I had often wanted to visit the Cliff of Pursuing Immortals to see the snowfall like that of old, to soothe my spirits, but never again had I witnessed such a beautiful sight. Sometimes, I dreamed of that Kunlun snowstorm and a distant figure. In dreams, it seemed so close; in reality, impossibly far—so unfamiliar...

Once more, exquisite snowflakes like that day began to fall upon the cliff, and to my astonishment, my master stood amidst the snow, his figure as elegant and aloof as it had been in years past.

I was stunned, not expecting to encounter him here on such a day! Like a furtive thief, I tried to tiptoe away, but he turned and looked at me.

Having been discovered, I had no choice but to step forward and salute him respectfully.

The cliff was the same, the snow as before, yet the immortal in blue robes had become my master...

“Fei’er, do you know what I am doing?” my master asked.

“My eyes are dull, but I know you’re not about to jump,” I admitted with embarrassment.

He smiled faintly, a serene smile that seemed to radiate endless hope, making the snowy, icy world brighter and more pure...

He seemed in good spirits. Mustering my courage, I finally voiced what I had long kept in my heart. “Master, I was blind to your greatness and hardly worthy to be your disciple. I was duped into cheating because I wasn’t clever enough, and it was my fault for damaging your wife’s memorial. I… there are other reasons I am unworthy. My uncle has made his profit and will no longer threaten you. Please, expel me from your tutelage.”

I added silently in my heart, “I am still the female immortal you never accepted; I deceived you.”

My master ignored my plea. “Fei’er, are you familiar with the Heavenly Rift?”

“My uncle mentioned it to me.”

I remembered Spring Breeze once told me that after that brutal battle in Mount Wu, he and my master’s uncle, an ancient god of slaughter, transformed themselves into black crystals to mend the thirty-three heavens’ rift.

“I am repairing the Heavenly Rift,” my master said calmly.

“You’re going to transform yourself?!” I exclaimed in shock.

“I am only using the Cloud-Concentration Technique and my divine power—no need to sacrifice myself,” he explained.

“Oh.” Relief washed over me. His talk of patching the Heavenly Rift had given me quite a fright. Though he was not fond of me as a disciple, I could not bear to see him do anything that would endanger his life—including standing at the edge of this sheer cliff as if ready to leap off. Spring Breeze had told me that after Lu Xue perished, my master had been so desolate he sealed off his immortal body and leapt from the cliff at Mount Wu, seeking death for love. Alas, I was born too late; had I met him then, I would surely have pestered him into staying.

He told me the origin of the snow at the Cliff of Pursuing Immortals.

In ancient times, Kunlun Xu was called Buzhou Mountain. After Gong Gong and Zhuanxu’s fierce battle, the Heaven-supporting pillar was toppled, creating a massive rift in the thirty-three heavens. The Celestial River, bearing the primordial spirits of all things, cascaded down and brought catastrophe to the world. The gods perished in their efforts to save creation. My master’s parents perished in this calamity, sacrificing themselves to protect his uncle.

Nuwa, who ruled heaven and earth then, after saving several high gods, transformed herself into black crystal to mend the rift, leaving a small gap through which celestial water trickled, nurturing the world. Buzhou Mountain thus became Kunlun Xu, source of all creation. The celestial water never ceased, so the rift must be constantly repaired to prevent another catastrophe. The beautiful snow was actually fragments of divine black crystal and condensed snowflakes formed to mend the Heavenly Rift.

The blue river before the cliff was celestial water, linked to the Celestial River above, the place where the primordial spirits of all beings cycle through reincarnation. There, the origin of all things flows, gathering by fate and, with the stirrings of thought, giving rise to the three souls and seven spirits—only with their convergence does the true spirit form. When Heaven and Earth unite, soul and body come together by destiny.

Thus, every life, every meeting in the world, is born of fate. If one’s true spirit is scattered and becomes primordial essence, flowing with celestial water to the four seas, it is nearly impossible for the same fateful meeting to occur again.

“Fei’er, you needn’t be haunted by the past. You came to seek a master, and I accepted you as my disciple—simply because fate was fulfilled,” he said.

“Fate fulfilled? But… didn’t you always want to send me away?” I murmured.

“I never despised you. I merely felt Penglai would suit you better. Lady Danxia would treat you well.” His tone was gentle and warm.

“But… I don’t want to go to Penglai anymore…” Somehow, my master saw my connection to Penglai. Though I thought it might be a good place, deep down, I knew it wasn’t home.

“Then you need not go,” he replied, like a kind father.

“But I damaged your wife’s memorial…” I stammered.

“She protected you through your tribulation. You were the disciple she chose,” he said.

“Truly?” My eyes lit up with delight.

“Truly.”

“Master, did I disturb you last time you were repairing the Heavenly Rift…” Back then, I thought he was about to jump, and forcibly dragged him down the mountain. Turns out, he was actually patching the rift.

I had always thought he simply chose a place of fortune and beauty to dwell in comfort, nursing old wounds in the midst of worship and plenty. I never realized this Kunlun snowfall concerned the lives of all beings.

“It did not matter.”

“Master, when you mend the Heavenly Rift in the future, may I come to watch the snow?” I asked, emboldened. I didn’t know why I loved the snow here so much, nor why I still felt uneasy, fearing he might again leap from the cliff to join Lu Xue, his beloved.

“You may,” he answered.

That day, I understood the origin of the Kunlun snowfall, and finally knew what he had been forging in the alchemy room.

He brought me to the training ground and told me he had prepared a new divine bow for my practice. As he spoke, he casually took a bow from the rack and began shooting.

I could hardly believe my ears, and with wild joy, I searched the bow rack for a new bow. When I picked one up and tried it as he had taught me, it was slightly easier to handle than the heavier ones, but I still couldn’t draw the string.

“Master…”

“Too heavy?”

“Yes.”

“There’s another.”

At his words, my spirits lifted, and I eagerly found another bow, lighter than the first. I tried it, but still struggled.

“Master…”

“Still too much?”

“Mm… a little…” My cheeks reddened. I truly was hopeless.

“There’s one more.”

Another! His words made me so happy I could have flown. I searched the rack meticulously, trying every bow, but could not find one I could manage.

Dejected, I approached him empty-handed. “Master, I can’t draw any of the others.”

He fixed his gaze on the distant target, nocked an arrow, and let it fly—straight to the bullseye. Then, handing me his own bow, he said, “Try this one. It should suit you.”

Taking the bow from his hands, joy and tears welled up within me. So this was what he had been forging these days—for me, three new bows! He had let me progress step by step! At last, I could be like my senior brothers.

My uneasy heart was finally at peace.

Every year after, I would go to the Cliff of Pursuing Immortals during my master’s repair of the Heavenly Rift, to witness the most beautiful Kunlun snowfall.

To avoid disturbing him, I would come in silence and leave in silence, never speaking to him. He never spoke to me. He patched the rift; I watched the snow. Master and disciple, standing back to back, each lost in their own thoughts, never disturbing the other.

As time passed, I seemed to understand why my master gazed at the celestial water with such sorrow. Perhaps, within those waters, some fragments of Lu Xue’s primordial spirit drifted. My master knew that the same fateful meeting could never occur again—Lu Xue would never return, and he could only watch as those fragments flowed away.

He advised me not to cling to the past. Yet after forty thousand years, he himself had not let go…