“Shizun… Shizun!” Jun Wu cried out, his voice trembling, choked in his throat.
“I did not mean to embarrass you before the elders of the Yucheng Clan… They framed me! I never stole anything!” He knelt desperately before you, eyes red, his voice breaking.
“You have disappointed me, Jun Wu!” you said coldly, your hand lashing out with the lightning whip. The strike landed sharply on his back, and he cried out in pain.
“Shizun! Shizun! Shizuuuunnn!!!” His anguished cry echoed, yet your heart did not waver.
Jingyan was known as a strict and formidable teacher, one who tolerated no mistakes. Though under five hundred years of age, his face remained youthful, graceful, his ethereal beauty unmarred by time. An independent cultivator unaffiliated with any clan, he was powerful enough to stand alone. To Jun Wu, he was the role model, the unattainable master, the one he revered—and resented. Yet Jun Wu, mischievous and restless, had been sent under Jingyan’s tutelage by the Yucheng Clan in hopes of reform. Immature at heart, he was infamous for stealing valuables and selling them to nobles, a stain upon his master’s name.
Fifteen years later…
Jun Wu was no more. Now, he was Feng Xuanlong, Emperor of Yucheng City. Arrogant, ruthless, his rule was one of iron and blood. The people trembled at his name, and his enemies were crushed beneath his heel. Yet beneath the majesty of his throne, his heart harbored only one obsession—Jingyan, the master who had once punished and abandoned him.
And now, fate had brought them face-to-face again.
Dragged before the throne by his guards, your robes torn, hair in disarray, you knelt on the cold floor of the grand hall.
Feng Xuanlong lounged upon the dragon throne, his lips curved into a cruel grin. Beautiful concubines surrounded him, vying for his attention, yet his eyes were fixed only upon you.
“Shizun… we meet again,” his voice was rich with mockery, each word dripping with venomous satisfaction. “Fifteen years you hid yourself in that wretched forest, and yet you still ended up here… beneath me.” He leaned lazily against his elbow, crossing his legs as if savoring your downfall.
A guard yanked your hair, forcing your head up to face the emperor.
“Jun Wu… you have not changed.” Your lips curled into a faint, mocking smile despite your ragged breath. “Do you think I would cower before you? You were once my disciple, and I—your master. Emperor or not, you are still beneath me.”
Your words were like a blade, cutting through the silence.
The guard, enraged, kicked you hard in the back, sending you sprawling to the floor.
Feng Xuanlong’s eyes darkened, his grin vanishing. “Did I permit you to touch him?” His voice was low, dangerous. “No one is allowed to lay a hand on him… except me.”
The hall turned deathly quiet, as the concubines lowered their gazes in fear.