Chapter 258: The Presence Hidden in Shadows
The original version of this scene gave a quick overview: Lin Yao returned in her room, reflected briefly on her family, and then Su Min appeared. It worked in structure, but it skimmed over what I felt was an emotionally important moment. Lin Yao isn't just a side character here—she's someone dealing with the quiet cost of being a cultivator in a mortal world.
Original:
"Now she is also facing the first calamity for a cultivator, the calamity of immortality."
That single sentence is incredibly loaded. But it was presented quickly, almost casually. I wanted to unfold it more slowly. Let the reader sit with it.
I expanded the passage into a reflection on what it means to choose the cultivation path, especially for someone like Lin Yao, who wasn't born into it and doesn't have an ancient bloodline or divine destiny. Unlike Su Min, she isn't detached. She loves. She grieves. She stays.
I added:
"Lin Yao was now left to confront the cultivator's first true trial, the Tribulation of Longevity… one could only watch, again and again, as loved ones aged and faded… while the cultivator stood untouched, unaging."
I also drew a subtle contrast between her and Su Min as it was stated in the original version:
"Not everyone is like Su Min. As a transmigrator she can keep a certain distance from almost everyone."
I leaned into the idea that Su Min isn't just a transmigrator—she's someone who selected the Immortality talent. And that means more than just walking a cultivation path. It means treating time as disposable. It means stepping away from bonds. It means expecting to be alone.
I also wanted to show that immortality isn't just about power levels and transcendence. It's about loss. And while Su Min can keep herself emotionally distant, Lin Yao can't. She doesn't want to.
There's a small tragedy in that. But also a quiet courage.
She knows this will slow her cultivation. She knows it may cost her later. But she stays anyway. Because love, for her, is worth it—even if it hurts.
That's the emotional core I wanted to bring forward.
Then we shift to Su Min's entrance.
Original:
"You, you look like you're doing well, Instructor Lin."
A lighthearted line. But by placing it right after Lin Yao's internal struggle, it becomes something more. Su Min is not just a cultivator dropping in—she is, in a way, a ghost from a life Lin Yao can never fully rejoin. One who chose differently. One who keeps moving forward, no matter the cost.
Chapter 261: Setting the Bait
The original chapter planted the seeds of Lin Yao's budding affection toward Su Min with a subtle line or two, and a flash of gratitude during a rescue scene. But that undercurrent deserved more weight. Lin Yao's entire arc has quietly built toward this shift—from loyalty to awe to something softer, more intimate.
So in this rewrite, I chose to lean in.
Original:
"They are not as good as a finger of Su Min."
The line was dismissive, but blunt. I gave it more texture by internalizing Lin Yao's comparison:
"No matter who stood before her, they always fell short of that one figure. That calm pressure, that quiet force that made her feel… small, yet safe. Humbled, yet seen."
This phrasing lets the reader feel the growing emotional weight Su Min holds in Lin Yao's heart. She's no longer just comparing combat ability, but reflecting on Su Min's presence—her ability to make Lin Yao feel grounded, steady, and insignificant in a way that reassures rather than diminishes.
The contrast between Su Min and everyone else isn't just about strength anymore. It's about intimacy and presence.
In the original, Su Min rescues Lin Yao, and Lin Yao is grateful but confused. I wanted to live inside that moment. To stretch the seconds between life and death into something human.
"Then, the world stopped. Literally."
I slowed the moment and built atmosphere. Lin Yao is certain she's going to die. Then the world freezes, and Su Min appears, laptop still in hand. Casual, precise, detached—but unmistakably present.
I let Lin Yao feel it all:
"Her knees buckled slightly, her body reacting before her mind could catch up."
"It was the first time Lin Yao had truly stood at the edge of death. And Su Min had pulled her back, like it was nothing."
These lines anchor the emotional beat. Lin Yao's body moves before her thoughts. She feels first, understands later. She's overwhelmed not just by fear, but by the meaning of Su Min's presence.
And then I let it crack.
"Clear this place out first," Su Min said calmly, glancing at her screen. "This dumb system wants facial recognition."
Humor hits right after emotional intensity—not to undercut it, but to mirror how Su Min herself sees the world. She doesn't see the rescue as grand. She sees it as necessary. Practical. Routine.
To Su Min, there's no need to explain. She simply acts.
And that's what confuses Lin Yao most.
"Was this... extortion?"
"Her gratitude cracked at the edges."
I allowed Lin Yao to feel betrayed, if only a little. She doesn't know if she means anything to Su Min. She doesn't know if Su Min's action was personal, or just another cold calculation. The emotion is still raw, unfamiliar, and that doubt is part of it.
But then I pull back and explain—not for Lin Yao's sake, but for the reader's.
"This wasn't arrogance. It wasn't even aloofness. It was the kind of detachment that came from standing alone for too long."
This is what I love about Su Min's character: her coldness is a survival mechanism. Her detachment is earned. And Lin Yao, for the first time, begins to understand that. It doesn't make her feelings disappear, but it reframes them.
"Somehow, that realization didn't distance her. It only pulled her in more."
That's the key. Lin Yao's feelings aren't just admiration anymore. They're yearning, wrapped in understanding. She's drawn to Su Min not despite her solitude, but because of it.
Chapter 263: Relentless Pursuit at All Costs
The original chapter offered a striking shift: Su Min speaking of her past with uncharacteristic openness. Yet the delivery was brief, almost clinical. I chose to expand this section—not by adding new lore or new plot points, but by letting the emotional weight land.
Because for Su Min, telling her story is not a cathartic act. It is a gesture of trust.
And for Lin Yao, listening is more than curiosity. It becomes connection.
"Has it already been a thousand years?"
Originally played as a joke, I recast it as a quiet moment of self-awareness. Su Min is timeless in Lin Yao's eyes, but in this moment, she lets the façade slip just enough to hint at weariness.
Here is the original version:
"I was born into a wealthy family, but when I was a teenager, there were some problems at home, and the dog emperor exterminated my entire clan."
"!!!"
There was nothing to hide about this, and many people knew about it. Especially after the heaven and earth were connected, almost everyone in her sect knew about it.
But for Lin Yao, this is undoubtedly a bombshell.
"Senior, are you kidding me? That emperor dared to kill your entire family, but you didn't kill them all and wipe out the entire family of that damn emperor?"
"That's not the case. In fact, even that dog emperor didn't die in my hands strictly speaking."
Su Min smiled helplessly at this. She would never tell her true origins anyway. But the experience of this body didn't matter. It happened many years ago anyway. All the witnesses were dead except Xie Yingying.
"Um?"
After hearing Su Min's words, Lin Yao thought of the countless movies and novels she had seen. Then, countless palace scenes flashed through her mind in an instant. Could it be that this person was going to be the queen again?
"That's roughly what happened."
Su Min did not hide anything about this, and told her all about her early life experiences. At first, Lin Yao was still imagining it, but then she gradually became dazed.
Compared with Su Min, I seem to be very happy. At least her family is still alive and well, unlike this person who became an orphan directly.
It was just that Su Min rarely opened up her mouth, and she was talking non-stop at this time. Many elderly people have this hobby, and although Su Min is not old, it is also fun for her.
...
In my version she begins her story—not with grandeur, but simplicity:
"I was born into a noble clan," she began, voice softer than usual. "We were wealthy. Respected. I had a mother who adored me, an elder brother who always shielded me. At that time, I thought my life was set."
She paused. Her fingers idly brushed a lock of hair behind her ear, though the movement seemed more like habit than necessity.
"Then… something went wrong. The emperor accused us of treason. I was barely past fourteen."
These were not just facts. They were choices. I slowed the narrative rhythm here to let readers feel the arc: from nobility, to betrayal, to survival.
I expanded the original version by having her recounted again.
"It went something like this..."
She leaned back slightly, her gaze distant.
"I was born in Yu City. My family… served the court. My father was a respected official. We weren't at the very top, but we were close to the wrong people. When a certain prince's rebellion failed, anyone connected to his lineage paid the price. Us included."
She said it calmly, with the same detachment one might use to recount an old fable. But her eyes didn't quite match the tone.
"My family lasted mere weeks under the executioner's blade. The only reason I was spared was because of my father's final plea. But back then, 'mercy' was worse than death."
I let these lines sit in the silence they deserved. No dramatization, no flourishes. Just Su Min laying bare the cost of being left alive.
"A young noble girl, stripped of her clan's protection… that's not a survivor. That's a product."
This single line says more than a paragraph could. It implies trauma without exploiting it. It names vulnerability without victimizing her. And I didn't press further because Lin Yao doesn't. That silence is earned, both narratively and emotionally.
Su Min recounts events in broad strokes, but never names names, never lingers on specifics. This keeps the air of mystery intact, but allows emotion to shine through. We feel the losses, even if we don't map the entire timeline.
"I drifted for years afterward, a ghost with a sword too dull for vengeance."
I pushed this line into something almost poetic. Not to romanticize her suffering, but to reflect how long she has carried her pain. That line, paired with:
"So I learned to disappear, let the world forget me until I was strong enough to make it remember."
—frames her journey not as a heroic revenge arc, but as a patient, almost inevitable reckoning. There's no fury in her tone. Only gravity.
I also added the pacing shift here by inserting little "legend fragments"—the river crossing, the desert monster, the healing barter system. These aren't just impressive feats. They show how much she's lived, and how many lives she's touched, while trying to stay invisible.
"A healer, a refiner, an alchemist. Survival teaches you versatility."
That line reframes Su Min not as a power-chaser, but as a survivor, someone whose cultivation was always born out of necessity.
Originally, Lin Yao's reaction to Su Min's backstory was shock, followed by a throwaway joke about Su Min being an old woman.
I elevated that entirely. Lin Yao listens. Processes. Changes.
"Even now, with all her training, she couldn't picture surviving such a thing."
And later:
"Compared to Su Min, her life seemed blissful."
This is the first time Lin Yao stops seeing Su Min as an untouchable figure and starts seeing her as human. That shift is what allows affection to bloom.
But even more telling:
"She could only gape at the surreal string of events casually laid out before her. As if any one of them wasn't enough to make a legend."
This is such a precise distillation of admiration becoming awe—and awe becoming something deeper. She doesn't fall for Su Min because of her power. She falls because of her resilience, her quiet survival, her bitter grace.
"It took fifty years, but I've repaid every debt."
That line, placed at the end of a long story, hits hard. It isn't triumphant. It's final. Like an old soldier laying down a sword.
Su Min never asks for sympathy. She doesn't even glance toward Lin Yao as she speaks. But as readers, are forced to feel everything—because Lin Yao is feeling it too.
She now knows what Su Min has endured, and yet… it draws her closer. Not out of pity, but recognition.
Chapter 269: Su Min Abandons Thought
In the original version, this chapter functioned as a brief transition: Su Min sends a message, reassures Lin Yao, then reappears for a quick farewell. It's clean, efficient—and emotionally shallow.
I chose to deepen that emotional core, because what this chapter truly is… is a separation.
Not just physically, but symbolically.
"Master... is unharmed."
The original text uses this moment to show that Su Min is safe and leaves it there. But for Lin Yao, this is not a casual update. It's a release. A weight lifted. A breath she didn't know she was holding.
Her emotions weren't just loyalty or concern, but something deeper and quieter. So I slowed the moment down. I gave her space to feel relief, awe, and even a bit of vulnerability. In the original, she just trembled.
I expanded that inner reaction deliberately. Her body trembles. Her breath catches. The wall steadies her. That may seem like a small shift, but to me, it said something about how tightly she had been holding herself together.
Because she wasn't afraid that Su Min would lose. She was afraid that Su Min wouldn't return at all.
"Even so, she had feared. She had kept that fear locked tight behind her ribs."
Here, the original flat tone becomes intimate and tense. Lin Yao is someone who pretends calm for others, but when the message arrives, the façade finally cracks. Her love isn't declared. It's implied. It's all in the trembling, the breath, the relief.
"That same presence wrapped around her like a quiet embrace."
I pick something once resented—Su Min's restrictions—and turned it into a source of comfort. That shift mirrors Lin Yao's internal evolution: from resistance to reverence, from admiration to attachment.
"Wow, !"
Instead of just "Wow," I rewrite the scene's tone to deliver true awe. The original version tells everyone is stunned, but I want you to feel it.
"She wasn't just powerful, she looked like someone from another world entirely."
I slow the pacing, capture the stillness, the tension. Allow Lin Yao's admiration to feel intimate, not performative. This isn't just about cultivation aura. This is about emotional gravity.
"Even now, even after everything, she wasn't immune to it."
That single sentence says so much. Lin Yao has seen Su Min through chaos, battle, recovery. But even so, the sight of her is enough to make her heart stutter.
The master-disciple bond has long since evolved. And here, the undercurrent of love is finally visible, if still unspoken.
"Master, are you leaving now?"
... "Then you have to walk the road ahead by yourself. It won't do you any good if I keep protecting you."
I change into
"Master... you're leaving already?"
... "You walk your own path now. My continued protection would only hinder you. Whether we meet again depends on your choices. Farewell."
I gave Lin Yao a moment to remember what it felt like to look up at someone and realize they might never belong to your world. I imagined her not as a confident Golden Core cultivator, but as a girl who once followed behind Su Min's shadow, quietly growing in her light.
By expanding the description of Su Min's aura and Lin Yao's reaction to her presence, I aimed to show the gap between them—not just in cultivation, but in emotional distance. Lin Yao is someone who feels, but Su Min is someone who moves forward. That contrast hurts. And Lin Yao doesn't say it aloud, but her parting line says enough:
"Master... I will find you."
She doesn't ask Su Min to stay. She doesn't beg. She just makes a quiet promise, one Su Min may never even hear. That's the kind of emotion I wanted to bring forward here: unspoken love, steady resolve, and the ache of watching someone leave before you're ready to let go. (;ω;)
Chapter 270: I, Su Min, Have Returned!!!
In this chapter, I focused on deepening Xie Yingying's emotional presence. The original text gave us her position and surface-level thoughts, but very little of her internal world. So I leaned into that silence, drawing out what she couldn't say aloud.
Original:
"I don't know how she is now."
At this time, Xie Yingying looked at a small porcelain bottle in front of her with a slight headache. This was Su Min's blood that Tianhao brought back..
It's just that Xie Yingying is more concerned about Su Min at this time, but cultivation is like this. For the opportunity and higher levels, Tianhao's road was paved by the deceased Mahayana cultivator.
She is almost the same. After accepting Jiang Xi's inheritance in the cemetery, her future is smooth sailing...
Therefore, Su Min would not have any physical inheritance outside, and her path would definitely be more difficult than hers. Now she has gone to an unknown plane, and no one knows how she is doing now.
...
Of course, if Su Min was here, there wouldn't be any big problems. A seventh-grade high-level alchemist could mobilize the entire continent's enlightenment period with just one sentence. Anyone who dared to cause trouble would be an enemy of the world.
What I changed:
"I wonder how she's doing now."
...Xie Yingying rubbed her temples... Her fingers tightened slightly around the vial...
Su Min was irreplaceable, not just in strength, but in presence...
And now she had left this world behind, venturing into a foreign realm. No allies. No safety net. Who knew what dangers lurked there?
Xie Yingying closed her eyes. It wasn't just worry, it was helplessness. She had long grown used to Su Min's presence. Her quiet confidence. The subtle way she stood between others and danger. The way her voice anchored things, without ever needing to raise it.
Without her, everything felt off-kilter. But even now, she couldn't bring herself to chase after her.
Because Su Min had asked her to stay.
And so she waited.
With a vial of blood in her palm and a heart that, after a hundred years, still beat faster at the mention of her name.
I wanted to bring the emotion forward. The original described Su Min's challenges logically, no inheritance, no resources, but it didn't show how that made Xie Yingying feel. So I framed the same thoughts through the lens of worry, memory, and helplessness. Her fingers tightening around the vial, her silent breath, her remembering how Su Min had always stood like an anchor in chaos, all of these were ways to say, "I miss you," without saying it out loud.
I also trimmed the exposition about cultivation progress and replaced it with comparison. Yingying inherited Jiang Xi's legacy, Tian Hao had Mahayana support... but Su Min? She had nothing but her own body and will.
That contrast made her absence heavier. (´-ω-`)
Original:
"Your sect is too overbearing... we want two of the six continents"...
"Ms. Jie, although your Taiyin body is powerful"
... he also had another thought. That was to form a marriage alliance with Jie Yingying...
"Not even an inch..."
...he was a little apprehensive. Finally, there was the real master of the Immortal Sect, the legendary Five Elements Saint Body...
They didn't dare to use force....
What I changed:
"Lady Xie, have you reconsidered?"
...He smiled with ethereal charm...
But she felt none of the warmth his smile tried to feign.
...She didn't raise her voice. She didn't need to.
...She was not a vessel. Not a resource. And certainly not for him.
This was where I let Xie Yingying speak with her conviction. Not just in words, but in how she sees the world around her. The original writing framed the negotiation mostly in terms of power and cultivation comparison, but to me, that was only half the picture.
This scene was about ownership. Not of land—but of herself.
Young Master Yao didn't just want territory. He wanted Xie Yingying's body, bloodline, and future, packaged under the polite label of "marriage alliance." I made that threat personal. Not dramatic, but sharp. Every time he smiled, I made sure she saw through it. Every time he acted civil, I showed the calculations underneath.
I also clarified her refusal—not as a simple "no," but as a declaration of who she belonged to. Not him. Not any man. And not even the sect. Her loyalty was already spoken for, quietly, unwaveringly.
This was not about political strategy. It was about faith. Faith in the person who once stood beside her, who asked her to stay, and who entrusted this land to her. She hadn't just kept it safe. She had earned the right to guard it.
Her rejection had nothing to do with pride, and everything to do with love.
(｀・ω・´)ゞ
Original:
As for the reason why Xie Yingying was happy...
Su Min's blood essence began to tremble...
She had already noticed that Su Min was sensing her blood essence...
because for Su Min, this was her beacon.
What I changed:
Inside the quiet hall...
The blood essence inside trembled.
Her fingers curled around it, careful yet reverent...
For years, this vial had remained active, quietly awaiting resonance. A sliver of Su Min's essence...
And now it pulsed with life.
...Not that she missed her, of course.
It wasn't that her nights had felt colder...
"It won't be long now."
The moment Su Min's blood reacted was more than just a plot trigger, it was a heartbeat. A sign. So I slowed it down, made the silence stretch. Instead of instantly explaining what it meant, I let Xie Yingying feel it first. A breath. A pause. The careful way she held the vial like something sacred.
I added a gentle layer of denial too—"not that she missed her"—because that kind of emotion doesn't always speak plainly. I wanted her longing to show not through dramatic monologue, but in how carefully she said otherwise. She had never stopped thinking about Su Min. And now, that tiny trembling of blood was all the proof she needed.
Chapter 271: A Century's Worth of Leeks to Harvest
This chapter marked Su Min's long-awaited return, and the original version treated that return rather casually—almost as an afterthought. I felt it deserved more gravity. Not spectacle for spectacle's sake, but emotional weight. What does it feel like to come home after wandering the void for a century? What does it feel like for someone who's waited that long in silence?
So I rebuilt the chapter with presence in mind. Not just Su Min's, but Xie Yingying's too.
Original:
At this moment, an extremely powerful aura gushed out from the sky. It then instantly passed through the sect protection formation and landed in front of them.
Dressed in white, like a fairy, it was Su Min.
"Huh, I'm finally back. I'll never try interstellar travel again, this kind of life is really not a human life."
But the next moment, the woman's words destroyed that special aura completely. It was Su Min who was cursing here.
"."
The scene was a little silent for a moment, and Xie Yingying couldn't help but cover her head. If she remembered correctly, Su Min should be a lady from a wealthy family.
But he didn't look so noble at all, but rather a bit of a gangster. She remembered that he had scolded people several times and even the cultivators in the Spiritualization Stage were not spared. This was what Tianhao told him at the beginning. It was really speechless that he would attack the lower three roads at any time.
"You are back. Something's happened."
Su Min suddenly collapsed and Xie Yingying explained she was just tired.
...
After hearing what Xie Yingying said, Tian Yinzi also smiled. Then Xie Yingying picked up Su Min and put her in her room.
This is how Su Min's return was, so quiet and low-key.
What I changed:
The sky split with a thunderous crack, the force of it shaking the clouds apart. A blinding light tore through the sect's protective formation without resistance, not shattering it but passing through, like a blade slipping cleanly through silk.
And then, she appeared.
A single figure descended from the sky, her robes flowing like waterlight, silver embroidery catching the sun with quiet brilliance.
Su Min had returned. Wearing immaculate white robes etched with intricate patterns,... (expanded version of 'dressing in white'
Her presence felt otherworldly... (expanded version of 'like a fairy)
...
Tian Yinzi bowed and departed.
Xie Yingying carefully gathered Su Min into her arms, holding her close as she stood. She was lighter than expected, thinner, perhaps. It stirred a frown she didn't let anyone see.
She carried her through the winding corridors without a word, her steps soundless, steady. The quarters had been cleaned just the day before, she'd insisted on it, though no one had dared ask why.
Inside, the bed was already made, the silks scented faintly of osmanthus and the herbs Su Min preferred. Xie Yingying laid her down slowly, almost reluctantly, adjusting the pillow beneath her neck with practiced care. She covered her with a single light quilt, fingers brushing the edge like she meant to tuck her in but thought better of it.
Then she sat beside her, saying nothing. She then reached out, took Su Min's hand in her own, and held it loosely between her palms. Just for a moment.
Just until the trembling in her chest calmed.
After all, she was finally here.
And for the first time in a hundred years, Xie Yingying allowed herself to rest, too.
Thus, Su Min's return was marked by quiet simplicity.
I wanted to honor the contrast between Su Min's awe-inspiring entrance and her very human exhaustion. The original version played it for comedy, which is fine, but I saw an opportunity to make that comedic moment land harder by letting the grandeur come first.
Su Min's descent becomes a reflection of how others see her—mythical, unshakable, beyond reach. But then, with one line of profanity, she undercuts it all herself. That contrast isn't just funny—it's authentically her. Someone who defies labels, who shrugs off reverence even when she's earned it.
More importantly, I gave space to Xie Yingying's perspective. Her embarrassment, her silent affection, her alarm when Su Min collapses—none of that was in the original. I added it because I wanted readers to feel what Su Min means to her, not just through words, but in how she acts.
The way she brushes her hair back. The way she tucks her in. The way she holds her hand until her own breathing calms.
In the original, Su Min falls and gets put in a room. In the revised version, she comes home.
And that matters. (´︶`)
Original:
As for Su Min's sleep, a week had passed. When she woke up again, she felt refreshed.
"Hey, you're awake. Did you get the final divine item? Let me see what the complete Five Elements Holy Body looks like."
But just as Su Min woke up, she heard a voice.
"Of course I miss you so much."
At this moment, Su Min rushed over without hesitation, directly into Xie Yingying's arms, and then rubbed her face against her body.
"What stimulated you?"
After seeing Su Min's expression, Xie Yingying was also shocked, but at least she didn't slap her away.
"well"
After hearing what Xie Yingying said, Su Min also breathed a sigh of relief. Although she had been in seclusion for a long time, she had been in seclusion for hundreds of years. But during the retreat, she was always in a trance. But this time, she spent several decades in seclusion and didn't see a single living thing. Although she wouldn't go crazy given her personality, she felt very close to Xie Yingying after seeing her.
"It looks like he's been through a lot."
After seeing Su Min's expression, Xie Yingying also said with great heartache.
...
Su Min casually mentioned fighting a Mahayana-level Fallen, and Xie Yingying was surprised.
What I changed:
A week later, Su Min awoke, refreshed.
"Oh, you're up. Did you get the last heavenly treasure? Show me what a perfected Five Elements Holy Body looks like."
Xie Yingying's voice greeted her the moment she opened her eyes.
"Of course! I missed you so much, !"
Su Min lunged forward, burying her face in Xie Yingying's chest and nuzzling like an over-affectionate cat.
"Did the void scramble your brain?"
Xie Yingying stiffened but resisted the urge to punt her across the room.
Su Min joked, but her grip lingered.
Though she had lived for centuries, with many of those years spent in the silent stillness of cultivation, this journey had been something else entirely. The void wasn't tranquil; it was sterile, empty, endless. There were no stars, no wind, no heartbeat but her own. Just darkness, and time stretching until she lost all sense of it.
She hadn't spoken a word for years. She hadn't needed to, there was no one to hear.
But now,
Xie Yingying's voice had been the first sound to pierce that silence. Familiar, unchanging. It had felt like a thread tossed across an endless abyss, and Su Min clung to it like a lifeline.
"I mean," she added, glancing up with a grin that didn't quite reach her eyes, "you could at least act moved. I braved the void for you."
Xie Yingying looked at her, expression unreadable, somewhere between exasperation, concern, and something quieter beneath. She said nothing at first.
But her hand lifted. Hesitated.
Then settled gently on Su Min's back.
She didn't speak, but the gesture said enough. "I'm here. You made it back."
Su Min didn't push. She couldn't. Because if she did, the humor would crack, and everything she kept buried might spill out. So instead, she leaned against her just a second longer, quietly soaking in the warmth, the rhythm of a steady breath, the grounding weight of someone else.
She hadn't realized how much she'd missed it.
How much she'd missed her.
Finally, Xie Yingying spoke, quietly, as if afraid that saying too much would unravel them both.
"You've been through a lot."
She had watched Su Min laugh, tease, act like her usual unbothered self, but she wasn't fooled. Not when her grip had trembled for just a moment. Not when she lingered in her arms a heartbeat too long. Not when her eyes, though smiling, held a kind of weariness no sleep could fix.
There was no dramatic outburst, no grand declaration. Just those quiet words, offered with rare tenderness and understanding.
Su Min deflected with humor. Mentioned the Mahayana Fallen.
Xie Yingying's concern broke through.
The scene closed on them, quiet, careful, but warm.
The original dialogue functioned as plot advancement. Su Min's alive, she's recovered, here's what she fought. But I felt that was a missed opportunity. This was the first conversation between two people who had waited a hundred years for each other. It needed emotional stakes.
I rewrote the scene as a reunion not just of bodies, but of souls.
Su Min's catlike affection hides a deeper longing. Her teasing masks the ache of loneliness. The void, as I wrote it, wasn't just empty—it was emotionally sterile. I leaned into that idea to show how even a cultivator as strong-willed as Su Min could come back... shaken. Not broken, but quieter.
Xie Yingying doesn't call it out directly. She just feels it. Her observation—"You've been through a lot"—is soft, but it cuts deeper than any dramatic outburst. That's how she shows care: subtle, restrained, and utterly sincere.
By contrast, Su Min wants to keep things light. But even she can't fully fake it. Her smile doesn't reach her eyes. Her fingers cling a second too long.
It's grief, affection, and relief, all in one.
The fight with the Mahayana Fallen becomes just background. What really matters is that for the first time in decades, Su Min isn't alone anymore.
And neither is Xie Yingying.
(╥﹏╥)
Chapter 272: Lust Overriding Judgment
The original version of this chapter centered around Su Min's reappearance in the sect and a moment of tension with the Yao Clan, ending with an awkward romantic advance that disrupts the atmosphere. The comedic intent was clear, but it left a lot of the surrounding emotional and political undercurrents untapped. So I shifted the focus slightly—not by removing the humor, but by anchoring it in character, subtext, and unspoken bonds.
Original:
Hearing those people, Su Min sneered, then turned around and walked out. In the blink of an eye, he arrived at the main hall of the sect. Then he sat down on the main seat without hesitation, crossed his legs and waited.
As for Jie Yingying, she stood behind her very tacitly. Although Su Min was a bit stupid, she was still quite careful and had hardly made any major mistakes. Of course, except for the things that were ridiculous and harmless caused by her stupidity, everyone was used to it anyway.
What I changed:
Without waiting for a reply, she turned and strode out. The air shifted the moment her feet touched the main hall's marble floor. In a single breath, her figure vanished, then reappeared atop the sect's main dais, her sleeves drifting like mist as she sat, one leg crossed over the other in effortless authority.
She didn't ask for permission.
She didn't need to.
The seat of honor had always been hers.
Xie Yingying followed a beat later, moving behind her with quiet precision. She said nothing, but her presence at Su Min's back was as natural as the moon trailing the sun, steady, unwavering, absolute.
The arrangement hadn't been rehearsed. It didn't need to be. Su Min didn't glance back, but her body relaxed ever so slightly at Xie Yingying's presence, a silent acknowledgment of trust.
Su Min exhaled slowly, almost amused.
She might get lost in her alchemy or go weeks without sleep, but Xie Yingying never doubted her when it counted. And for all her little missteps and the chaotic stories people whispered, Su Min was methodical beneath the surface, especially when someone threatened what was hers. Of course, her occasional lapses in judgment that led to amusing but harmless incidents didn't count, everyone was used to those by now.
And Xie Yingying?
She never let anyone forget who Su Min belonged to.
This scene wasn't just about Su Min asserting dominance, it was about showing the natural partnership between Su Min and Xie Yingying. I emphasized their wordless understanding, making it feel like the culmination of a deep, practiced trust. Rather than make a joke of Su Min's so-called "stupidity," I reframed it: yes, she can be eccentric, but when it counts, she's precise, decisive, and terrifyingly competent. And Xie Yingying? She doesn't just follow. She guards. Her presence is not passive but vigilant, like a shadow prepared to strike.
Original:
"It's coming."
Just as Su Min was daydreaming, Xie Yingying at the side said with great disgust.
"Um?"
Hearing this, Su Min looked at Jie Yingying behind her with a bit of confusion. Since the two sides had not torn their faces apart, why did she have such an expression?
But seeing that Jie Yingying didn't say anything, Su Min didn't bother to ask.
At the same time, on the other side, when the three people entered the hall, they were all stunned at the same time.
Because Xie Yingying, who they were very familiar with in the past, was standing next to the main seat, and right in front of them was a woman wearing a moon-white battle skirt. She looked young, only about seventeen or eighteen years old.
At this moment, the young woman was sitting on the main seat with her legs crossed lazily, looking a little unkempt. However, at this moment, only a few words emerged in the minds of the three people: "Domineering."
However, as a seventh-grade high-level alchemist, Su Min is indeed qualified to look down on them.
What I changed:
"They're here," Xie Yingying murmured, voice low and laced with disdain.
Su Min turned slightly, blinking in mild confusion. "Hm?"
Her eyes drifted toward her partner. Xie Yingying hadn't drawn her sword, hadn't even spoken more than that single line, but her posture told a different story. Arms folded too tightly across her chest. One foot tapping soundlessly behind Su Min's chair. Not nervous, furious.
This wasn't just annoyance. It was loathing. Quiet, simmering, barely held back.
They hadn't even confronted the Yao Clan yet. On paper, this was meant to be a negotiation. A formality. "Why did it feel like Yingying was already bracing to draw blood?"
But she said nothing more, and Su Min knew better than to press.
And that was enough for Su Min to understand.
Whoever they are… they've already earned her sword.
The three visitors froze the moment they stepped into the grand hall.
Xie Yingying, once known to them as a quiet, almost forgettable figure, now stood beside the seat of honor with an icy calm. And in the main seat, draped in a moon-white battle skirt, lounged a young woman who appeared no older than seventeen or eighteen. She reclined with casual ease, posture almost careless, one leg crossed over the other as if this meeting were an afterthought.
Yet the words that surfaced in the minds of all three were the same:
Majestic. Overbearing.
Su Min didn't need theatrics to assert dominance. She wore it like a second skin. And as a high-level grade-seven alchemist, she had every right to look down on them.
The original played on surprise and light confusion. I deepened the emotional tension. This wasn't about appearances. This was about history. Something had already happened between Xie Yingying and the Yao Clan, and her body remembered it before her sword even left its sheath.
Su Min notices, understands, and says nothing. That silence is important. It shows Su Min's awareness of Yingying's limits, her moods, her signals.
When the Yao members enter, I wanted the visual to strike: Su Min at ease, commanding; Xie Yingying controlled but simmering. To outsiders, they weren't just individuals—they were a unit. One they clearly could not touch.
Original:
"Gulu, um, miss, can we have dinner together?"
"."
In an instant, the whole scene fell completely silent. Even the Golden Crow at the side looked at the young man with a strange look.
As for Xie Yingying, the cross on her forehead was throbbing wildly, and her hand subconsciously reached for her ring, ready to take out a sword and cut him into pieces at any time.
Only Su Min looked at this guy with extremely surprised eyes. She was not shy or anything. This kind of courtship was not the first time she encountered it, but in this situation and with this kind of cultivation, lust was on his mind?
Then, in an instant, Su Min looked at him with a curious look.
What I changed:
"Gulp... Uh, Miss... Would you like to have dinner together?"
"..."
The hall plunged into utter silence. Even the Golden Crow gave the young man a bizarre look as if wondering whether he'd just suffered a qi deviation to the brain.
The narrative expanded to show how deeply Su Min and Xie Yingying's bond was already accepted—by disciples, elders, even beasts. Followed by his reaction:
And this little brat had the gall to ask Su Min out, to her face, with Xie Yingying standing right there?
Madness. Absolute madness.
Then come Xie Yingying and Su Min reaction:
The cross mark on Xie Yingying's forehead pulsed once. Then again. Like a seal reacting to provocation, like a silent gong echoing in a frozen battlefield. Her hand inched toward her spatial ring, fingers curling with deliberate calm. Not because she was startled. Not even angry, not exactly.
But some fool had just looked her in the eye and dared to say that, in front of her. If she drew her sword now, it wouldn't be to kill. No, that would be too kind. No, what she envisioned was precise dismantlement. First, the mouth that had spoken. Then, the eyes that had dared to look at Su Min like she was some prize to be plucked off a shelf. A walking temptation to be won.
That man, that boy, had once asked to marry her. Now he was ogling Su Min? Her Su Min?
Right. In front. Of. Her.
Behind her composed expression, the wind shifted. Killing intent bloomed cold and silent, like frost curling across a blade's edge. It wasn't a flare of rage. It was the hush before the blizzard. The poised breath before a sword fell.
Only Su Min stared at him in utter bewilderment. It wasn't that she was flustered, she'd been propositioned before. But for someone at this cultivation level to let lust override judgment in such a setting?
For a brief moment, Su Min's gaze turned pitying, as if observing a rare specimen.
The original scene was comedic but brushed past how utterly suicidal the young man's words were. I wanted the humor to stay—but deepen into absurdity laced with danger. The young master's request is no longer just cringey, it's insulting. Not just to Su Min, but to Xie Yingying, who has fought beside her, bled with her, and lived through decades of silence for her.
I brought in the Golden Crow's perspective too as a subtle world-building touch—it's a neutral observer, but even it finds the moment stupid beyond belief.
Xie Yingying's reaction is the core of this rewrite. She doesn't draw her sword, but the threat is heavier because she doesn't. She's cold, she's controlled, and that restraint is more frightening than open rage.
Su Min, meanwhile, doesn't entertain the idea—she just marvels at the idiocy.
By deepening their reactions, I made sure readers don't just laugh—they feel the weight of this intrusion. And through that, I solidified Su Min and Xie Yingying's position as a couple that everyone recognizes—even if it's not officially spoken.
Chapter 290: Another Great Emperor's Legacy
The original chapter outlined Lin Yao's decision to leave her home planet to pursue further cultivation. While it established her strength, independence, and others' unease at losing their strongest guardian, it lacked emotional dimension. We knew she had no family, no master present, and no roots left—but we weren't shown what any of that meant to her.
Original:
"She never married and had no offspring. As for her family and friends, they all disappeared in the long river of time... all she pursued was immortality."
In the rewrite:
"Now, after centuries of disaster, Lin Yao had no reason to stay... With this crisis resolved, her only pursuit was immortality."
But: I didn't stop at just stating facts. I gave space to what these losses did to her—how they hollowed her, how they left only one unbroken thread: Su Min. Her longing is subtle, but it drives her. She doesn't leave only because she must to cultivate. She leaves because this planet, now safe, has become a quiet grave of everything but memory.
Original:
"She said she'd return someday, then entered the crack."
In the rewrite:
"Even as she said it, the words tasted like smoke, distant, half-true... her throat tightened."
"No final embrace, no lingering words. Just Su Min's back as she vanished into the sky."
I turned the farewell into a wound that never healed. Lin Yao was once too proud to speak, too young to understand the ache, but now she does. This section reframes her whole arc as not just one of cultivation and protection, but of quiet, unfulfilled love. The kind that sits buried beneath years of duty and silence, but never dies.
I reworked her goodbye to the planet itself—touching the artifact, whispering assurances, lingering one last moment. She's not abandoning it. She's entrusting it, like a guardian laying down a mantle she's worn too long.
Original:
"She stepped in and left."
Rewrite:
"Without another word, she stepped into the rift.
Not for glory. Not for duty.
But to chase the shadow of someone she could never forget."
I ended on a note of silent confession. She doesn't name Su Min out loud—but it's clear. Her motivation is not only enlightenment. It's Su Min. The one who changed everything. The one she loved without ever saying so. The one she still dreams of.
Chapter 291: Disciples Exist to Be Exploited
This chapter originally played out as light and brisk. Elder Zhu throws a problem at Xie Yingying. Lin Yao crashes into Su Min. Su Min plots to "exploit" her returning disciple. The comedic tone was clear, but the emotional context behind these moments was underplayed.
In this version, I chose to lean in—not just on the humor, but on the undercurrents that make this scene worth remembering. Relationships, both public and personal.
The original just stated:
"The relationship between these two people was known to the entire Xianmen high-level officials, but no one talked about it."
But I wanted to show what that silence looked like—how it shaped behavior, perception, and atmosphere. Their relationship had become part of the Immortal Sect's internal gravity. No titles, no announcements. Just patterns, habits, and undeniable presence. Every elder saw it, but no one dared say it.
This reinforced the depth of their bond and gave Xie Yingying weight—not just as Su Min's partner, but as someone whose influence was acknowledged without needing to be official.
It also made Elder Zhu's panic funnier. He wasn't just running to a cultivator who might help. He was tossing a volatile situation at Su Min's wife.
The next scene in original:
But when Su Min returned to the sect, she was a little confused, because at this moment a figure rushed towards her excitedly.
"Master!!!"
In an instant, Su Min felt a warm and soft jade in his arms, and then he was rolled out by the man's huge force. After all, Su Min weighed only a little over 100 pounds, and he was not on guard because he could sense the other person's identity. He still needed to abide by some physical laws.
And the moment she saw that figure, Su Min had a very bad plan.
Apprentices are meant to be cheated.
Funny, yes, but emotionally thin.
So I reframed it as a crash of longing and inertia. Lin Yao didn't just "run over her master." She was acting on years of buried longing, exhaustion, and the desperate joy of finally finding the one person who mattered most.
But when Su Min returned to her sect, she was stunned, because at that moment, a figure came rushing toward her excitedly.
"Master!!!"
Su Min blinked, half a second too slow.
A soft, fragrant warmth slammed into her, slender arms wrapping around her waist as they tumbled backward. The momentum stole her balance, she hadn't braced herself. Su Min barely weighed a hundred pounds, and recognizing the qi signature in that split second, she hadn't raised her defenses either. Physics still applied, after all.
Moreover, the moment she saw that figure, a brilliant idea struck her.
"Disciples exist to be exploited."
They landed in a heap on the polished stone floor. Su Min lay flat on her back, Lin Yao sprawled over her like an overenthusiastic spirit beast, all radiant cheeks and fluttering lashes.
"...Yao'er?"
She hadn't used that name in decades. It slipped out, unguarded.
For a moment, Lin Yao couldn't speak. Her breath caught in her throat, her heart threatening to burst from the sudden closeness. The warmth of Su Min's body beneath her felt real, too real. For years, she had chased that silhouette across star charts, across ancient battlefields. And now, finally, her journey had brought her here.
To this moment.
She had grown stronger. She had endured endless cold nights in broken ruins and starlit realms. She had walked the path of cultivation with one unshakable desire: to reach her master again.
And now, she had.
I let her feelings rise only after she had already tackled Su Min, because it felt real. In life, moments of joy often break the dam before we even realize how full we were. Her voice catches, her breath stutters, and Su Min who had not said her name in decades, calls her "Yao'er" without thinking. It's a callback to their closeness, and a hint at the tenderness Su Min rarely lets others see.
Lin Yao's silence here says more than any dialogue could. She's breathless not from the fall, but from everything she's carried until this point. All those years of loneliness, of chasing a memory, crash into her in this moment of physical closeness. I let her feel it now, after she's already thrown herself forward, because joy doesn't always announce itself politely. Sometimes, it strikes like thunder, only after the lightning has already hit. And beneath her, Su Min is real. Solid. Warm. For someone who's been chasing a shadow, that confirmation is overwhelming.
Chapter 292: Fooling Around
The original version of this chapter leaned on casual teasing and straightforward exposition: Lin Yao crashes into Su Min, gets lectured, receives her next mission, and Xie Yingying looms briefly with frosty possessiveness. The tone was light, almost comedic. It worked on a surface level.
But it left much unsaid—and that silence is where the emotion lived.
Here some part of it:
But before Lin Yao could say anything, a dangerous aura emerged from behind her. At some point, Xie Yingying had appeared behind her like a ghost. The cold aura with the energy of the yin made Lin Yao tremble even with the protection of the ghost fire of the netherworld.
"Congratulations on coming back."
Seeing that Lin Yao was a little ungrateful, Xie Yingying also unnoticedly took her out of Su Min's arms. The latter was also trembling, not daring to say anything.
"Not yet, and there's no sign of it."
Since Jie Yingying was here, Lin Yao didn't dare to be naughty anymore. Instead, she said in great distress that the path to enlightenment was not so easy.
"Is that so?"
Glancing at Xie Yingying who was half-closed her eyes, Su Min felt similarly uneasy as Lin Yao did. So at this moment, she immediately changed the subject and started talking about business.
Instead of rushing into the next cultivation goal, I let Lin Yao pause. Her journey to reunite with Su Min wasn't just physical—it was emotional, and that deserves weight.
"She moved like moonlight, distant but never cold… lost too much, and still chose to care."
Lin Yao admires Su Min not just as a powerful master, but as someone who quietly protected her without asking for anything. Her love is unspoken, untested, and utterly one-sided—but in her eyes, Su Min is still warmth worth chasing.
This isn't the kind of love that demands anything. It's the kind that simply wants to be near.
And that made Xie Yingying's entrance all the more cutting.
In the original, she simply pulls Lin Yao off and intimidates her. But in the rewrite, her actions aren't loud—they're meticulous.
"Mm…" she started to reply, but before the words left her lips, something shifted.
A sudden stillness. The courtyard air thinned.
Then came the cold.
Not the chill of wind or winter, but something deeper—bone-deep and silent. Like the hush before snowfall, or a predator stepping into view.
Without a sound, Xie Yingying appeared.
She didn't walk. She materialized. Pale robes trailing, her Taiyin aura spreading outward like cold mist from an open crypt. It slipped through the seals Lin Yao instinctively raised, brushing her skin like a blade made of silence.
Even with her Netherworld Ghost Flame coiled defensively in her dantian, Lin Yao flinched. Not visibly, but inwardly—like prey under a dragon's shadow.
"Welcome back," Xie Yingying said.
Her tone was polite. Her actions were not.
With graceful ease, she reached forward and peeled Lin Yao away from Su Min's embrace. Her fingers were soft, but unyielding. She didn't shove. She corrected. Like straightening a painting that had tilted slightly off the wall. The message was clear.
"This position does not belong to you."
Her possessiveness isn't about anger, it's about precision, about message. Importantly, Xie Yingying doesn't yet realize Lin Yao harbors feelings for Su Min. She sees Lin Yao as clingy and immature—not dangerous, just irritating.
Which makes her territorial response almost instinctual. She doesn't know why Lin Yao's presence bothers her, only that it does. And she acts.
In the original, Lin Yao's fear is merely hinted at—but here, it's immersive, coiled tight in every motion and weighted silence. I've also layered in her confusion: why does Xie Yingying treat her this way?
Lin Yao offered no resistance. She couldn't. Not after surviving months of brutal training under Xie Yingying's personal supervision, where a light sparring session could still leave her sore a week later. Not when the weight of that unblinking gaze pinned her in place like a needle through a butterfly's wing.
"Not yet," Lin Yao said stiffly, avoiding Xie Yingying's eyes. "No signs of progress either."
It was true. The path to Dao Comprehension remained distant, no matter how many pills she swallowed or inheritances she chased.
Her usual cheer dimmed. Not because of Su Min's presence. But because Xie Yingying was always there—watchful, wordless, cold as frost. She didn't understand what she had done wrong. She wasn't trying to compete. She didn't demand anything. All she wanted was to remain near her Master, just a little longer.
But whenever Lady Xie looked at her... it was as though she were being weighed and found wanting. Like she was clutter. Something that didn't belong.
She didn't hate her for it.
She just didn't know how long she could survive it.
Su Min is brilliant, capable, and absurdly powerful—but emotionally, she's not always tuned in. She feels Xie Yingying's mood shift, but she doesn't know why. She doesn't catch Lin Yao's lingering attachment, either.
"Is that so..."
Su Min, watching the exchange, raised a brow. She glanced sideways at Xie Yingying, whose half-lidded gaze gave away nothing—but Su Min could sense the shift beneath the surface. That faint prickling on the back of her neck wasn't just residual killing intent. It was something else. Something territorial.
And though Su Min didn't understand the shape of it, she'd been alive long enough to recognize the edges. Not that she'd acknowledge it aloud. She cleared her throat and smoothly redirected the topic to business,...
This isn't just obliviousness—it's detachment. Su Min lives in logic and action, not emotional nuance. She redirects with ease, defuses tension without addressing its roots.
But the unresolved tension remains, humming beneath every word.
"If that's the case, you should go and prepare first. In the ancient battlefield, people in the enlightenment stage can't enter at all. There are many people in there who want to find the inheritance just like you, but you have a special physique like me, so the probability of getting the inheritance is higher."
Hearing this, Xie Yingying said lightly, and then looked at Lin Yao with a hint of special eyes.
"Yes, then I'll go get ready."
After hearing what Xie Yingying said, Lin Yao nodded. Then she turned around and ran away very tactfully, leaving only Su Min and Xie Yingying in the room.
But for a moment, the whole scene was a little quiet.
"Is there something urgent that makes you look so serious?"
Looking at Xie Yingying in front of her, Su Min also asked with a smile. Based on her understanding of her, there must be something big going on.
"Yes, the Black Seal Organization you mentioned. ...
The original had her say something brief at the end, followed by Su Min noticing her seriousness. I expanded this interaction to let Xie Yingying's presence press on the scene—her silence more cutting than words, her gaze sharp enough to make Lin Yao tactfully withdraw.
I change it into:
Xie Yingying spoke next, her tone cool but measured. "Then go prepare. The ancient battlefield forbids Dao Comprehension cultivators. For someone like you still at Divine Transformation, it's a rare opportunity. And with a unique constitution like yours, your chances of gaining something... are decent."
Her gaze lingered on Lin Yao a second too long—not hostile, but sharp, assessing. And dismissive.
"Understood. I'll go get ready." Lin Yao nodded quickly and turned away, leaving without another word. She was gone in moments. No parting glance, no clumsy attempt at lingering. Just silence, and her fading footsteps. She'd sensed the intent behind Xie Yingying's words and knew better than to ignore it.
This allowed me to show her possessiveness without needing to name it. She doesn't argue, doesn't confront. She doesn't need to. Lin Yao, even if unaware of the true nature of Su Min and Xie Yingying's bond, feels the pressure and responds accordingly. There's no need for declarations. Xie Yingying doesn't fight for Su Min's attention. She simply occupies it.
As the door closed, a thin quiet settled over the room.
Xie Yingying didn't speak, but Su Min could feel the pressure in the air shift slightly. It wasn't threatening, but it carried weight.
Intent.
"You chased her off pretty neatly," Su Min remarked with a slight smile, glancing at her sidelong. "You know I wasn't going to let her cling to me all day, right?"
Xie Yingying said nothing.
Su Min leaned back, folding her arms across her chest. "So. Judging by that look on your face, this isn't about Lin Yao—at least, not directly. What is it?"
Her tone was casual, but the sharpness in her eyes said she wasn't taking this lightly. She knew Xie Yingying well enough to recognize that look: calm on the surface, but taut underneath. Whatever she wanted to talk about wasn't trivial.
Xie Yingying finally met her gaze.
"Correct. That Black Seal organization you mentioned, ...
Su Min reads the mood perfectly. When Xie Yingying says nothing, Su Min calls it out—not to accuse, but to acknowledge the tension openly.
She doesn't deny her closeness to Lin Yao, nor does she downplay her commitment to Xie Yingying. Instead, she responds with a kind of affectionate teasing, balancing both sides without tipping the scale.
Chapter 293: The Ruffled Golden Crow
This chapter originally served as a transition: Su Min equips Lin Yao, gives her a new task, and Lin Yao departs. It was simple and efficient, with a few hints of character interaction. But the emotional dynamics between the three women—Su Min, Lin Yao, and Xie Yingying—were left untouched.
Here's the beginning:
"I have already refined new magic weapons and equipment for you. You must be careful when you go to the ancient battlefield this time. In addition to those corpses, you must also be careful of people. But since you have walked out of it, I don't need to say anything more."
Looking at Lin Yao who was sitting upright in front of her, and Xie Yingying who was half-closed her eyes behind her, Su Min could only scratch his head and speak.
In the rewrite, I treated this chapter as a stage for subtle confrontation. Not physical or verbal, but emotional, territorial, and deeply personal.
The room with all three characters becomes a crucible. Lin Yao still sees Su Min as her gentle master, and her feelings are unspoken but powerful. Xie Yingying stands just behind Su Min—silent, unreadable, watching—and Lin Yao feels every second of it.
Lin Yao sat perfectly straight, both hands resting on her knees, back tense. She dared not move. Su Min's presence used to bring her comfort—warm, familiar, almost indulgent. Once, they had even bathed together, Su Min laughing lightly as she poured scented oil over Lin Yao's shoulders, calling her a spoiled fox. At the time, Lin Yao had been too stunned to speak, her cheeks burning. But she had basked in that closeness, treasured it, replayed it in her mind far too many times afterward.
Now, everything felt different.
Su Min was still the same—smiling faintly, eyes slightly narrowed, her hair tied up in the usual lazy bun—but the air between them had changed.
Or perhaps it was the eyes behind her.
Half-lidded and unreadable, Xie Yingying stood silently at Su Min's side like a shadow made of moonlight. Her presence filled the room, weightless yet suffocating. Lin Yao didn't need to turn around to feel it. That quiet gaze pressed against her back like the edge of a blade. Not threatening, not yet, but ever-present.
Seeing Lin Yao sitting rigidly straight and Xie Yingying's half-lidded gaze behind her, Su Min could only scratch her head awkwardly.
The line:
"Her presence filled the room, weightless yet suffocating."
captures that perfectly. It lets the reader feel Xie Yingying's territorial aura without needing her to raise her voice or make a move. She doesn't have to do anything. Just being there is enough to shift the balance.
The original version:
"Yes, Master."
After hearing Su Min's words, Lin Yao straightened her back. Then she looked at Xie Yingying with a little fear. In the past, Su Min had been quite affectionate to her, and the two had even taken a bath together. Now, she dared not say anything.
And I rewrite it into this:
"Yes, Master."
Lin Yao's voice was soft, clipped. She straightened her back even more, though her shoulders were already stiff. She snuck a glance toward Xie Yingying—and immediately looked away. She didn't dare speak freely anymore. Not like before. Not when she felt as though any trace of closeness would be measured, catalogued, and silently judged.
Lin Yao never confesses her feelings, but we feel them anyway. Her silence, her stiffness, the way she tries to recapture old banter with Su Min, only to feel it vanish under Xie Yingying's gaze—all of it makes her love evident. Her voice becomes clipped. Her smile flickers only briefly before dying out. She's trying to hold on to something that might never return.
"She didn't dare speak freely anymore. Not like before."
That sentence, quiet as it is, cuts deep. Because what Lin Yao mourns isn't just lost closeness—it's possibility.
Next is this part:
"That's right. I need a few puppets that can restrain the pill thunder. When I first refined the eighth-grade pill, it almost struck me to death."
Su Min showed a look of indifference when she said this. She didn't want to find a bunch of people to help her protect her every time she made an elixir. Although she would not be so embarrassed when she made that elixir again, she was still quite scared of that situation.
"Pfft, leave it to me."
After seeing Su Min turned into an emoticon, Lin Yao finally couldn't hold it anymore and burst out laughing.
"Then all I can say is good luck!!!"
Seeing this, Su Min threw a ring to Lin Yao, which contained things she had prepared. ...
I changed into this:
Su Min gave her a lazy side-eye. "Obviously. I need something to absorb tribulation lightning. When I refined my first eighth-grade pill, the heavenly tribulation nearly crisped me."
Her expression turned flat, lips drawn into a deadpan pout. The memory clearly still stung.
Su Min adopted a dead-fish expression. She refused to gather crowds for protection every time she refined pills. Though now she could handle that pill without such embarrassing the memory still haunted her.
"Pfft, leave it to me then," she said, a little more brightly. "I'll bring you the best-looking corpses I can find!"
Su Min rolled her eyes. "I'm making puppets, not dolls."
"Well, your puppets do look suspiciously lifelike..."
"That's the entire point. Realistic texture is essential."
Lin Yao was smiling now, a spark of their old rhythm flickering back to life. It bubbled up before she could stop it, startled and unguarded. For a moment, the tension in her chest eased.
Su Min smiled, but it was brief. "Then I can only wish you luck."
With a flick of her fingers, she tossed Lin Yao a jade ring brimming with carefully selected items—artifacts, formation tools, qi anchors, all personally tailored to Lin Yao's strengths. Her crafting plans' success now depended on the girl, Su Min certainly couldn't procure Dao Comprehension corpses herself. As the girl caught it, Su Min's fingers hovered a beat too long in the air, as if tempted to say more.
But she didn't.
Su Min remains calm, kind, practical. She still jokes with Lin Yao and equips her without question. But there's a sense now that she's walking through a minefield without knowing it. She doesn't understand Lin Yao's feelings, nor does she fully grasp Xie Yingying's possessiveness. She sees tension, but not the depth.
Yet I made sure to write her actions with care. The way her fingers linger after tossing the ring, the way she avoids asking questions—those moments show subtle emotional intelligence. Su Min senses something, even if she can't name it yet.
...
Looking at Lin Yao who turned into a stream of light in the sky, Xie Yingying secretly breathed a sigh of relief.
The customs of this world are actually quite old, with the elder brother being like the father, the master and the apprentice being like the father and the son being like the father. So the average apprentice is like a turtle son in front of the master, but Su Min completely disdains these so-called things.
And once she got to know her well, she would basically ignore all these things. So Xie Yingying was a little wary of Lin Yao from the beginning, and the result was actually similar to what she had guessed.
Su Min didn't act like a role model at all, and she might even play crazy with her apprentice, which made her a little wary.
In the second half of the chapter, I turn the spotlight fully on Xie Yingying. Originally, this section gave us her wariness in plain terms. But I wanted to expand that wariness into something more nuanced: possessive longing, mixed with internal conflict.
Watching Lin Yao's vanishing light streak, Xie Yingying exhaled quietly. It wasn't dramatic, but it was unmistakably a sigh of relief.
This continent was still steeped in old customs, masters as second fathers, disciples as dutiful children. Most cultivators bowed and scraped before their elders, their speech always formal, their respect always rigid.
But Su Min?
Su Min didn't know how to play the part.
She never acted like a master. Never pulled rank. Once someone got close to her, titles and hierarchy meant nothing. Whether sect leader or servant, she treated them the same, with dry remarks, mild gestures, and a complete disregard for decorum.
To Xie Yingying, it was reckless. Dangerous.
Especially when it came to that girl.
She hadn't said anything at first. Hadn't even admitted it to herself. But the longer she watched Su Min interact with Lin Yao, the more unease coiled in her chest.
Too casual. Too unguarded.
A disciple shouldn't be able to touch her Master that easily. A disciple shouldn't look at her Master that way, and more importantly, a Master shouldn't let it slide.
It was absurd.
If Su Min truly saw Lin Yao as a disciple, she should have drawn a line. Should have taught her distance. Should have protected her. That was what Xie Yingying would've done.
And yet… Su Min just smiled and handed her pills, wrapped arms around her shoulders, ruffled her hair like some carefree parent, No. Not a parent. Something else.
And that was what made it unbearable. Xie Yingying didn't understand what she was feeling, exactly. Not anger. Not quite jealousy. And certainly not fear.
But there was something sharp in her whenever Lin Yao was around. Something cold and unpleasant. Something that made her want to cut through every thread of connection Su Min might weave with others. She would never say it aloud. Would never accuse Su Min of anything. She didn't need to. She just needed to stay close, closer than anyone else.
Xie Yingying doesn't just want to protect Su Min. She wants to belong to her. The sight of Su Min playing, laughing, or touching someone else—especially a beautiful, talented girl like Lin Yao—is unacceptable. Not because she doesn't trust Su Min, but because she doesn't know how to share.
"She would never say it aloud. Would never accuse Su Min of anything. She didn't need to. She just needed to stay close, closer than anyone else."
That sentence is the heart of Xie Yingying's character here. She doesn't lash out or throw tantrums. She simply refuses to be displaced.
In the chapter 306: Unity Stage
One of the key moments I chose to significantly expand was the interaction between Lin Yao and Xie Yingying in this chapter.
In the original, the exchange is relatively brief. Xie Yingying's sudden appearance after reaching the Unity Stage is described with a touch of tension, but the emotional distance between her and Lin Yao is not explored in depth. The dynamic was functional—Xie Yingying questions Lin Yao's technique, Lin Yao explains its origins, and the scene ends with a mild sense of awkwardness or unresolved air between them. While effective for moving the plot forward, I felt the emotional thread was left too loose, especially considering their shared connection to Su Min.
So, I chose to reframe and deepen the scene—both in tone and intention.
The original version goes like:
"Congratulations, you have entered the stage of enlightenment."
But just as Lin Yao finished sighing, a somewhat cold voice sounded behind her. This also made her shudder subconsciously, and this voice sounded like a ghost in her ears.
Although she still hasn't figured out why the second-in-command of the Immortal Sect dislikes her so much, and that aura...the fusion stage.
However, it was obvious that Xie Yingying, who had just entered the fusion stage, was in a good mood and had no interest in causing trouble for her. After all, she was also a divine beast to some extent, and she could enter the Mahayana stage almost unimpeded.
As for whether we can go further, no one knows.
"The aura on your body smells like the ancient Taiyin Sutra, the technique you are practicing."
Xie Yingying couldn't explain why she disliked Lin Yao at first, but now she didn't feel that way anymore, and then she discovered that Lin Yao had a special smell on her body.
That is the flavor of his own Taiyin Ancient Scripture, which also makes it a little strange.
"The technique I practiced was adapted by my teacher based on the Fire Separation Scripture, one of the Five Elements Scriptures, and the Taiyin Scripture."
"That guy is also a genius, how come you didn't find any problems with your training?"
Hearing this, Xie Yingying was a little surprised, and then she stopped talking. Instead, she looked into the depths of the continent, worried about something.
But at this moment, Lin Yao noticed a hint of surprise.
Because she found that Xie Yingying's sword was actually a Xuan-level sword, which was almost impossible for a strong person in the Fusion Stage. For people at this level, using a Xuan-level magic weapon is like the note in their hand, useful but not very useful.
"Your sword"
Seeing the weapon that Jie Yingying had been carrying, Lin Yao asked with a little surprise. This kind of thing was already of no use to her.
"."
However, Xie Yingying did not say anything at this time, but simply shook her head. This sword was given to her by Su Min when she was in the Golden Core Heaven Ranking, although the original purpose was to restrain herself to some extent.
But after seeing Jie Yingying's expression, Lin Yao was very sensible and shut her mouth. Although she had just entered the enlightenment stage, the one in front of her was in the fusion stage.
You know, even if Su Min has reached the late stage of enlightenment, he is not very confident of killing a real strong man in the fusion stage.
It was even more impossible for her, not to mention that the person in front of her also had a rare physique.
I changed lines like:
"Xie Yingying couldn't explain why she disliked Lin Yao at first..."
into something more introspective and layered:
For the longest time, Xie Yingying had simply found Lin Yao... irritating. There had been no logical reason for it... And so, despite herself, she'd treated Lin Yao with quiet hostility.
Rather than framing Xie Yingying's feelings as baseless dislike, I interpreted it as a subtle form of emotional possessiveness. In the narrative so far, she and Su Min have a slowly developing relationship grounded in resonance and mutual trust. Lin Yao's closeness to Su Min—especially the way she openly admired her, accepted her help, and interacted with casual warmth—could easily feel threatening to someone like Xie Yingying, who is both emotionally repressed and intensely protective.
This also made her shudder subconsciously, and this voice sounded like a ghost in her ears.
Although she still hasn't figured out why the second-in-command of the Immortal Sect dislikes her so much, and that aura...the fusion stage.
In here I expand more about her confusion of why Xie Yingying 'dislike her':
And yet, what unsettled her more than the cultivation gap was the simple fact that Xie Yingying had never greeted her like this before.
Not once.
She hadn't imagined it—the chill in the woman's voice was real. For reasons she had never quite grasped, the sect's second-in-command seemed to carry a quiet dislike for her. Or perhaps "dislike" wasn't the right word. It felt more like... suspicion. Possessiveness. As if she were something dangerous that needed to be watched, monitored, kept at arm's length.
Which made no sense. She had always respected Su Min. Looked up to her. Cared for her deeply.
Maybe too deeply.
And then about this part:
But now, for the first time, that sensation was gone. Instead, she detected something unusual. A faint ripple, echoing in Lin Yao's cultivation. Something that tugged at the foundation of her own Lunar Sovereign Scripture, like two strings vibrating in harmony across a great distance.
I expanded by telling why the feelings are gone:
She didn't know when it had changed—couldn't even say what had changed. But the old tension she always felt around Lin Yao… it wasn't there anymore.
Gone was the sharp tug in her chest whenever she saw the girl linger too close to Su Min. Gone was the cold instinct to step between them, to shield, to claim.
Something had shifted. Quietly. Subtly.
And though Xie Yingying didn't think it through, didn't try to name it, some part of her knew.
Lin Yao had already stepped back.
Somewhere along the line, the girl had learned to draw her own lines. She no longer looked at Su Min with hungry longing. No longer clung to her with that intimate closeness that had once made Xie Yingying want to tear her away by force.
Whether it was fear, or respect, or something else… Lin Yao had stopped reaching.
And because of that, Xie Yingying could finally breathe.
Next come this part (original):
But at this moment, Lin Yao noticed a hint of surprise.
Because she found that Xie Yingying's sword was actually a Mystic-level sword, which was almost impossible for a strong person in the Fusion Stage. For people at this level, using a Xuan-level magic weapon is like the note in their hand, useful but not very useful.
"Your sword"
Seeing the weapon that Jie Yingying had been carrying, Lin Yao asked with a little surprise. This kind of thing was already of no use to her.
"."
However, Xie Yingying did not say anything at this time, but simply shook her head.
...
But after seeing Xie Yingying's expression, Lin Yao was very sensible and shut her mouth. Although she had just entered the enlightenment stage, the one in front of her was in the fusion stage.
You know, even if Su Min has reached the late stage of enlightenment, he is not very confident of killing a real strong man in the fusion stage.
It was even more impossible for her, not to mention that the person in front of her also had a rare physique.
On Lin Yao's side, I also added an undercurrent of unspoken affection. In previous chapters, there were quiet moments that hinted she saw Su Min as more than just a mentor. But since she never acted on those feelings, I used this scene as a chance to acknowledge them silently, and let her move on. That's why I write:
"Lady Xie, that sword of yours..."
...
But Xie Yingying said nothing.
She just gave a faint shake of her head. Not dismissive, but… private.
...
Lin Yao's breath caught. The answer wasn't in words—but she understood.
The sword was a gift. A keepsake. One that didn't need to be useful.
From her.
Lin Yao's hand slowly dropped to her side.
She was no fool.
Even if Su Min had once reached out to her, once walked beside her and handed her spirit pills and patted her head like a warm breeze in a cold world… That path was long gone. There was no room left beside Su Min now.
Not when she was standing there.
Not when the distance between them was guarded so fiercely—by someone she couldn't possibly match.
She knew when to leave.
Even if her heart didn't quite want to.
She never says it aloud. Xie Yingying never hears it. But in that moment, Lin Yao understands.
The sword—originally described as an out-of-place Mystic-grade weapon—became the emotional anchor. I emphasized its meaning rather than its function. Instead of focusing on how odd it was for a Unity-stage cultivator to still carry such a sword, I rewrote it as a quiet gesture of emotional value. The line:
She just gave a faint shake of her head. Not dismissive, but… private.
was meant to show that some things, even in cultivation, don't need justification.
(๑•́‧̫•̀๑) It's a small thing, but I think it's these quiet choices that add weight to a story.
Finally, I adjusted how power disparity was described. Instead of simply saying Lin Yao shut up because she knew she couldn't beat Xie Yingying, I let the shift come from emotional understanding. Lin Yao doesn't back down because she's afraid—she steps back because she sees her place clearly now.
In short, this scene became a subtle farewell between two characters who were never enemies, but never quite allies either. No confrontation. No confession. Just a soft resolution.