So the Senior Sister Drew Her Sword

I am a blunt, taciturn sword cultivator.

As the eldest senior sister, I often have to give important speeches to the disciples, put scheming supporting characters in their place, and counsel fellow cultivators who are prone to extremes.

Though I was born reticent, I can always win people over with my noble character, straightforward conduct, and great authority.

But I am not perfect, after all:

When faced with a client who blames me, I speak without thinking and accidentally hit a sore spot.

When faced with a troublemaker mocking our sect, I fail to stop them in time. I cut them off, but can't stop my junior brothers and sisters from talking back.

When faced with a cynical temporary ally, I fail to understand what he means and keep asking what each of his sneers signifies.

Until he loses his temper in shame and yells at me, calling me a boorish martial sect brute.

“I'm so useless. It's all my fault.”

Then I lower my eyes and bow my head, apologizing with dejection and remorse, a trace of steadfast sorrow in the corner of my eyes.

After all, I was born reticent, a blunt sword cultivator.

Then my adorable junior sister will cry out in shock:

“Senior Sister!”

“You're not the one who's wrong. The whole world is!”

That's right. What an adorable junior sister, what dear fellow disciples.

At times like this, the other person always graciously says they forgive me, and even comforts me with plenty of kind words. There really are more good people than bad in this world.

You ask why my hand is on my sword hilt?

Huh? I just want to touch my precious sword every now and then, or maybe show it off to everyone.

After all, I am a pure-hearted sword cultivator.

Old blurb:

“You're going to be tortured physically and emotionally by him eight times,” Zhan Lingling says, cupping her face in her hands.

“What?” Jian Zhao is bewildered.

“That's how these stories go. He'll torture you physically and emotionally eight times, then you'll set the house on fire, fake your death, and return to the sect.”

“...”

“But I'm the number one swordswoman.”

“I forgot to mention!” Zhan Lingling suddenly realizes, clapping her hands.

“Because that scholar is so delicate, you'll give up practicing the sword. Later, you'll even give away your talent to please him, and have your sword bones ripped out.”

Jian Zhao falls silent. She doesn't know why that would be a good enough reason to give up the sword, or how anyone can give their talent away. She only knows that people are supposed to die when their bones are ripped out.

“You'll become super charming and delicate, and learn to read, embroider, and wash your hands to make soup, all just to earn the occasional glance from him,” Zhan Lingling says, wiping away tears.

“But he! That cold-hearted man! Only looks down on you even more! Then he brings home a pregnant woman! Your heart turns to ash, and you leave without hesitation!”

Jian Zhao leans back.

“But it was all a misunderstanding. Later, he'll realize how he feels and change, because love is a two-way street.”

“Then the overpowered hero, our junior brother, comes to attack the sect because of an old grudge, and humiliates you in public.”

“But it's fine. The scholar will stand up for you, using his connections and his silver tongue.”

“By then you'll be so moved that you'll change your mind and remember all the good things about him.”

“In the end, Junior Brother will be a master of both the righteous and unrighteous worlds and become the number one swordsman. The scholar will be praised by everyone for being both righteous and humane. And I, your junior sister, will find a way to go home.”

“What about me?” Jian Zhao asks.

“You get love.”

“...”

“And a pair of twins, a boy and a girl,” Zhan Lingling adds in a small voice.

“Don't say another word.”

And so the senior sister drew her sword.

P.S. The male lead exists, but that's all. He won't appear too early.

Theme: One should live one's own life