The Cannon-Fodder Peacock and His Tool-Person Master

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A fake transmigration into a book, a real awakening. A gentle daddy figure versus a rebellious little ray of sunshine.

1.

The disciple transmigrates into the body of a good-for-nothing whose true form is a peacock.

System: [Welcome, Host, to your transmigration into a book experience. Please choose the main storyline: a. Win over your master, b. Stop, ]

Disciple: "Aaa!"

System: [Unable to recognize input. Please choose again: a. Win, ]

Disciple: "Aaa!"

System: [Unable to recognize input. Please, ]

Disciple: "Aaa!"

System: [Congratulations on activating the main storyline: Stop the male lead from turning evil and save the cultivation world!]

Disciple: ?

2.

The disciple doesn't obediently follow the System's instructions and stick to the plot, because

A two-pound peacock, with two pounds of rebelliousness.

The System crosses its arms and threatens him: [Fine, then we'll wait for the male lead to destroy the world and all of us to perish together. We'll start a second run, and if that doesn't work, a third, and so on. Let's see who outlasts whom!]

Disciple: "You mean it?"

The System lifts one eyelid and gives him a sidelong glance: [Having second thoughts? Your backbone really isn't worth, ]

The disciple takes off like a shot. "Master, I'm coming!"

System: ?

3.

The moment a certain tool-character master from a male-oriented novel awakens, he learns that the little disciple he raised himself is this book's cannon fodder. On the eve of the story's events, the disciple will become a puppet on a string, stripped of his will, and stumble like a walking corpse through the preordained plot. He'll secretly go off to die, just as the story dictates, and meet his destined end:

Death of body and soul.

Breaking free of the story's written restraints, the master rushes to the place where the plot is set to unfold. He witnesses his disciple fall from the Ninth Heaven, and, at the moment of his death, be devoured by the male lead, the book's "Child of Fortune." The disciple is made into someone else's stepping stone. The master does everything he can, but only manages to seize a remnant of his soul.

But the Heavenly Dao is merciless. Tribulation after tribulation strikes, determined to destroy that remnant soul. From beginning to end, no one asked whether the little peacock was willing. So why should they accept this so-called fate, written in black and white?

Little peacock, don't be afraid.

Your master is here to take you home.

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Click the author's profile for more master-disciple stories.

Upcoming novel: "What's Wrong with Hating My Master?" An older master-disciple pairing, equally matched.

Ten years ago, the disciple was framed by someone and barely escaped with his life. Even with his body in tatters and his life hanging by a thread, all he could think of was making it back to his sect to reassure his master that he was safe.

On that night of torrential rain,

through the door between them, the disciple accidentally heard his master speaking to someone else. His master's voice was ice-cold as he confirmed the accusation: "That wicked disciple was unruly by nature. He deserved to die."

He gave a self-mocking smile and turned to walk into the pouring rain.

They would not meet again for ten years.

By then, the disciple had mastered peerless techniques. He returned to settle old scores one by one, and was wiping his hands leisurely amid a heap of bodies when he happened to encounter his master, who had been in seclusion for years.

The man was as aloof as ever, dressed in white, high above the world, as if standing among the clouds. Even a speck of dust on his pristine brocade boots seemed like a stain.

From the shadows, the disciple lowered the hidden weapon in his hand. How should he settle the score with this man?

Rather than take his life,

it might be more interesting to drag this noble, untouchable beauty down from his altar, make him fall into the dust with him, and trap him in filth and squalor, struggling against the tug-of-war between worldly desire and his identity.

The disciple puts on a secret identity and returns to the sect.

Master, your wicked disciple is back to repay you.

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In a dim, secluded cave, the master is locked in exquisite shackles.

The disciple sheds his disguise, smiling with alluring charm. He grabs the master's chin and forcibly slips him a pill of passion.

The dagger's sharp blade becomes soft as a fingertip, wandering wantonly over the master's brows, eyes, cheeks, and lips, before finally stopping at his most vulnerable, deadly throat.

The disciple softens his gaze and feigns innocence, his tone half reproachful, half flirtatious. "I've missed you all these years, Master. I could barely eat or sleep. Did you ever miss me?"

Theme: The heavens may not grant our wishes, but we need not obey the heavens.