On the first day after I joined the sect, my master carried me straight to an arena eight hundred meters above the ground.
He glanced sideways at the other five masters and gave a sinister grin.
"Watch your master put on one hell of a show."
I sat on a little stool and cheered him on.
"Go, Master! Beat the crap out of them!"
When the fight was over, I rushed over and threw my arms around his neck, sobbing.
"Master, wake up! If you're crippled, who's going to cook for me?"
A large hand grabbed the back of my collar and lifted me up.
He furrowed his brow, licked his teeth, and spat out a mouthful of blood.
"You're crying over the wrong person. Damn it, I'm your master!"
Years later, during my mortal tribulation, I ran into several of my masters again.
I got drunk at someone else's wedding banquet.
Overcome with grievance, I grabbed the groom by his sleeve.
"I've followed you around like a puppy and called you Master for all these years. I'm damn happy today, so don't you think it's about time you called me your wife?"
Someone grabbed the back of my collar and pulled me away.
"Did you damn well get the wrong person again? I'm your master!"
*
[Head-Down Feast Eater · Cherishes Her Life · Poor and Timid · Unlucky All the Time · Disciple]
[Loves a Good Brawl · Loses More Than He Wins · Cocky and Reckless · Occasionally Godlike · Master]
Theme: Seeking a full stomach and handsome men
