Master, You’re Going to Make Me Faint!

In the Linghuan Heavens, there are three thousand floating isles, three thousand cultivators, and three thousand possibilities. His name is Lan Ting, the only perfect Chaos Constitution in the Three Realms. Three hundred years ago, he secluded himself on Still Snow Isle and took in a boy with a dead meridian as his disciple. The boy, Du Heng, had no talent for cultivation, yet at death’s door, instinct led him to piece together a shattered jade token. From then on, Still Snow Isle was no longer all snow. The boy harbored feelings he dared not confess, practicing day and night just to get one inch closer to his master, then one inch closer still. Lan Ting said, “You are my disciple. That is enough.” But when he casually left the plum blossom spirit, which blooms once every three hundred years, for the boy; when he broke his own rule and left the solitary isle for the mortal world; when he sat alone late at night, stroking the broken jade the boy had pieced back together, even he could not bring himself to admit that something had long since crossed the line between master and disciple.