The truth is revealed.

“Tell me what you know about body constitution,” Master Song says.

The room falls silent. Every disciple’s gaze is fixed on you. You swallow, feeling the pressure mounting. Your mind races to recall what you’ve read.

“A cultivator’s constitution,” you begin, voice wavering, “is part of their innate talent. Everyone is born with a spiritual root—an elemental affinity: fire, water, earth, metal, or wood. This determines their elemental strength. The constitution, however, is about the body—bloodline, talent, and how it reacts to Qi. It’s something the heavens decide, giving each person a unique constitution. Some are born stronger, others… less so.”

“It’s heaven’s way of showing that all men are unequal,” Master Song says. “For some, it’s a gift. For others, a curse.”

You glance up, catching a hint of sadness in her crimson eyes.

“The Pure Yang Constitution is both a gift and a curse. Yang is the masculine side of Qi—light, assertiveness, transformation. Those with a Pure Yang body can harness this energy to enhance their strength, speed, and size—becoming more masculine.”

The disciples lower their gazes. Even Meiyu’s expression darkens.

“Women naturally align with Yin. To be born with a Pure Yang body disrupts the balance of existence. It goes against their very nature. The toll is immense, manifesting in...” She gestures toward the disciples.

Your eyes sweep the room, taking in the towering women around you—muscles swelling beneath their robes, their forms radiating masculine energy, and between their legs—the unmistakable bulge. Even Meiyu, once scrawny, now stands as tall as you, her body firm and strong.

A sudden realization strikes you. “That means...”

“Indeed. The Red Bamboo Sect is a refuge for women born with the Pure Yang Body—a place where they can learn to control the fire within them. It’s a sanctuary for those twisted by heaven’s will—the freaks of nature—who must find their place in the world.”

A heavy silence follows her words. The disciples, once like statues, now show signs of vulnerability.

The twins, usually playful and mischievous, stand motionless, their expressions distant and unreadable.

Jiang Zhiwei, known for her fiery temper, stands rigid, arms crossed defensively.

Lu Qingyi, always composed, now struggles to hold back tears.

Shen Nuoyue, once aloof, now seems a world away.

Tian Xueying, still filing her nails, can no longer hide the tension—her clenched jaw betrays the storm within.

And Meiyu, her face strained with a **** smile, no longer radiates warmth. Her fingers tremble as they fumble with her robe, her gaze carefully avoiding yours.

As you take in the scene, a thought strikes you.

“So, does that mean... not all jade-skinned fairies are as tall and imposing as you, Immortal?”

The words slip out before you can stop them. The room falls into stunned silence. All eyes are on you. The disciples exchange bewildered glances, then look back at you, their expressions a mix of surprise and disbelief. Even Meiyu, who had been avoiding your gaze, looks up, wide-eyed, frozen in place.

“What??” Master Song says, clearly taken aback by the question.

“I mean,” you say, “the cultivators of the Red Bamboo Sect are all so tall and strong, like living deities. I always thought that’s how they all were. Am I wrong?”

The silence deepens, the air thick with tension. It’s then you realize how little you truly understand about cultivators or the world around you.

“Ha!”

A sudden burst of laughter cuts through the heavy silence.

Looking up, you can hardly believe your eyes.

Master Song Baiyun—the giant, ever-grim cultivator—smiling? Laughing?

“Ha! Hahahahaha!” Master Song bursts into roaring laughter, her voice taking everybody by surprise. “Jade-skinned fairy! He calls me a jade-skinned fairy! Hahahaha! People haven’t called me that in centuries!”

The disciples stare, stunned, as Master Song laughs louder. The sound is so infectious that the entire room seems to vibrate with it.

“Hahaha! He thinks this is what all cultivators are like! He thinks this is normal!” Master Song laughs so hard that tears roll down her cheeks. She falls to the side, clutching her belly in pure joy.

The disciples, once frozen, begin to laugh too, their voices ringing out in unison. Even Meiyu, tense just moments ago, is now giggling wildly, her usual carefree self returning.

Your face turns bright red, and your ears burn with embarrassment.

“Mortal, is that what you think? That we’re all just giant women with strength to rival mountains?” Tian Xueying teases.

“Um… I mean… yes?”

“By the heavens, he’s so precious!” Lu Qingyi exclaims, swooping you up in a tight, spinning hug. “So cute! So cute, so cute, so cute! He’s so innocent I want to squeal!”

“Senior Sister, what are you doing?!” you gasp, flailing.

“Third Sister, that’s not fair! We want to eat him up too!” the twins chime, closing in from both sides and wrapping their arms around you.

Before you can protest, you’re trapped in a huddle of laughing, teasing disciples. Their massive pectorals and powerful arms threaten to break every bone in your body.

“Please, stop! I can’t—I can’t breathe!” you wheeze, your vision blurring as consciousness starts to fade.