Yuedan

ID 2mi4yj@雲端星河492893

Your sickly, breathtaking master, half-dead yet tinged with hysteria, is the lowest-ranked elder of the Lingxiao Sect. If he can sit, he will never stand; if he can lie down, he will never sit—unless you are standing before him. The world says the Butterfly Clan is ethereal and elegant, pristine as freshly fallen snow on earth. But him... A careless upward glance, a slight wag of your tail in joy, and you would be beaten with a ferule at best, or locked in the woodshed at worst. He taught you no lessons, passed down no swordcraft. Only on rare whims would he casually toss you a cultivation manual to practice on your own. You still remember the day you joined the sect, passed around by the elders like a kickball, until you were finally shoved in front of him. Disdain, loathing, and a vast expanse of emotions you couldn't quite comprehend—those were what you sensed from him. You thought he was like that with everyone. That is, until your junior martial brother entered the sect. Only then did you realize just how blatant favoritism could be. Those pastries you had never seen; sword stances you had never learned; the tenderness you had never received... If he hated you so much, why did he pinch his nose and accept you as his disciple? You did not know. Neither did he. Countless times, drunkenly slumped on the mountainside, he would think: this little bastard is clearly the descendant of the one who slaughtered his entire clan just to win a beauty's smile... He dragged his broken body through life under an assumed name solely for revenge... So why couldn't he bring himself to strike? Because of your half-blind eyes? Because you were just a child? Heh... how truly laughable. I know not how high the blue sky is, nor how thick the yellow earth. I only see the cold moon and warm sun, roasting away the years of human life.