My Yandere Disciple Wants to Kill Me - Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Sixteen years after Wan Li’s death, I took a disciple on Ling Mountain.

My original intention in taking a student was to pass down my medical skills in their entirety to future generations.

Therefore, setting aside his temperament, I was satisfied with this disciple in every aspect, whether it was his natural talent or his level of diligence.

Except for one thing-

Compared to medical theory, Yun Rong was more obsessed with studying poisons.

“Your talent is quite good; it would be a waste to use it solely on concocting poisons.”

That was in Yun Rong’s third year on Ling Mountain. Only after enduring the harsh bitterness of the wind and snow was he officially admitted as my disciple.

Ling Mountain is home to many women, and he was quite adept at pleasing them.

The palace maids couldn’t bear to see him freezing and would secretly send him winter clothes. Even the old woman who swept the mountain paths would praise him whenever I passed by.

It made me, the Goddess, seem cold-hearted by comparison.

After a full two-year probationary period, seeing that he was indeed sincere in his desire to learn, I finally allowed him to ascend to the peak.

Yet, upon our first meeting as master and disciple, he presented me with a cup of poisoned tea.

Even when exposed to his face, the culprit didn’t show the slightest hint of panic.

He looked at me and smiled.

“Master is a descendant of the Shennong Clan. Surely you don’t also hold medical theory in sole high regard while discriminating against the art of poison?”

Compared to our first meeting at the foot of the mountain two years ago, the thin and frail youth had filled out considerably, becoming increasingly tall and handsome.

Dressed in light blue-green robes, he was beginning to possess the elegant stature of green bamboo.

I shook my head, took the tea, and drank it all in one go before replacing the lid.

“The art of poison can only kill. Medical skill, however, can both save and kill.”

“…” Yun Rong knelt properly below, gazing at me silently for a moment.

I expected him to be wondering why the Goddess of Ling Mountain-rumored to be a benevolent healer who saved the dying and helped the injured-was so different from the legends.

But he only curled his lips into a sudden smile, respectfully raised his hands, and took back the teacup.

“I understand, Master.”

From then on, the decades-long battle of wits between master and disciple began, revolving around medical and toxicological theories.

He would mix rosary peas into the pastries; I would add heartbreak grass to the meals.

He would add datura to the incense in my bedroom; I would pour poisoned wine when we drank together.

When I suffered from headaches, the silver needles he used were soaked in oleander juice; when he caught a cold, the prescription I gave him was laced with raw aconite.

…

Qi Zhi often complained to me that, thanks to my taking a disciple, she and the other maids had much more free time.

After all, everyone on Ling Mountain now hardly dared to enter Mist Flower Hall. She had no opportunity to serve me personally even if she wanted to.

They only feared that when immortals fight, mortals get hurt.

As it turned out, practice was indeed an excellent way to increase knowledge and hone one’s abilities.

As the years passed, Yun Rong went from frequently falling for my traps and needing me to provide the antidote in time, to being able to identify a poison with just a glance or a sniff the moment he picked up an object.

Later on, if he was poisoned at the hour of the Dragon, he would nonchalantly serve a three-course meal and a soup by the hour of the Horse, calling me to dine.

But slips were inevitable.

The most dangerous time was when I crafted a poisoned sachet.

I had calculated the time: if he wore it for twelve hours a day, he would still have at least three days of leisure to explore and concoct an antidote.

However, he kept it under his pillow even while sleeping.

By the time I rushed there, he was completely weak, requiring me to half-support and half-carry him into a tub.

I prepared a medicinal bath for him to dispel the toxins.

When I asked him why, he remained silent for a moment.

“It was a gift from Master. I did not dare… nor could I bear to part with it.”

Amidst the dense mist of steam, Yun Rong’s face was pale, yet he maintained a smile.

A submissive and gentle smile.

But my brow slowly furrowed.

I looked at him, and he gazed back at me with a focused gaze and a devout expression.

His shoulders had gradually broadened; the youth who hadn’t yet reached his twentieth year had grown into a young man as elegant as jade and bamboo.

I was no longer an ignorant girl who knew nothing of love.

That was the first time I vaguely realized the feelings my prize pupil harbored for me.

…

As soon as the treatment was over, I punished him by making him kneel on the snowy peak for a month.

When I went to see Yun Rong, he was still kneeling obediently.

Dressed in thin clothing, alone amidst the thick white snow, his entire being looked like a sculpture carved from ice and snow. Frost had formed on his hair and brows.

I sighed.

On one hand, I lectured him on grand principles, trying every means to nip the budding feelings in the soul.

On the other hand, I wondered when it had all started.

Although this was my first time being a teacher and my experience was limited, I considered myself meticulous in leading by example, strictly adhering to the ethics of a master and never overstepping.

I didn’t know how my disciple could have developed such beautiful, delusional fantasies.

Yun Rong knelt upright, his lips deathly pale.

His eyes, which had been closed, finally had to open. He said helplessly:

“Master, your memory is truly not very good.”

The brat probably found me noisy and even spoke up to mock me.

I tried hard to recall.

“Could it be because back in the valley, I saw your naked body?”

Yun Rong closed his eyes again, as if he couldn’t bear to look or listen. He said weakly:

“Master, please stop talking.”