The male protagonist of the book is poisonous

I, Lin Yue, now assuming the identity of Su Xiao, slowly made my way towards the sect, accompanied by Xiao Zhu. My gaze, like a nimble butterfly, danced lightly across the surrounding scenery, taking in every detail. Every corner, every color, like a page from a mysterious book, beckoned me to interpret and explore.

The bluestone path beneath my feet twists and turns like a giant, long-sleeping dragon. Each slab, like the scales of a dragon, bears the marks of time. The wheels of time have relentlessly rolled across the slabs, leaving traces, deep and shallow, like ancient runes carved by time. From time to time, a few tiny blades of grass sprout from the cracks between the slabs, slender as silk threads yet incredibly resilient. In these narrow, almost life-less crevices, they stubbornly poke their heads out. Their tender green, against the backdrop of the surrounding gray stone, is like a flicker of hope in the darkness, a playful touch of nature inadvertently added to this ancient, somewhat monotonous man-made landscape, like a splash of bright color casually splashed across the canvas by a mysterious painter.

The trees lining the road were tall and lush, like loyal guards, tirelessly guarding the path leading to the sect. Their trunks were so thick that it took several people to wrap their arms around them. Their bark was rough and cracked, each crack like the furrows of time, each one silently telling of years of trials and tribulations. When the wind howled, they stood firm; when the rain poured, they stubbornly stood firm. A gentle breeze rustled the leaves, a sound like the leaves whispering ancient and mysterious stories, perhaps stories of the sect's past, perhaps the legends of this land. Or perhaps they were whispering a gentle welcome to me, a special visitor. The sound was soft and gentle, like a gentle welcome song played by nature. Sunlight filtered through the gaps in the leaves, casting dappled shadows that fell on me like broken gold. The light and shadow danced on the ground and changed shape, making me feel as if I was in a dreamlike fairyland. Everything around me became less real, yet full of endless poetry.

Arriving at the sect's entrance, the towering stone gates loomed before us, resembling two towering hills. The stone gates evoked a solemn and majestic aura, as if they were the sect's first line of defense. The sect's name was engraved on the gates in ancient, vigorous characters. Each stroke seemed to radiate a profound inner strength, a force that seemed poised to burst forth, revealing the sect's rich history and profound heritage. These characters seemed to be infused with the inner strength of an ancient calligrapher, meticulously crafting each stroke. Each character brimmed with vitality, like a spirit with a soul, leaping across the stone gates, recounting the sect's glorious past. The disciples guarding the gates wore the sect's uniform. Their clothing was crafted from high-quality materials, the fabric meticulously selected for its comfort and breathability. The tailoring was tailor-made, emphasizing the upright and sturdy posture of each disciple. The color of their clothing is deep and solemn, its deep hue embodying the sect's majesty and intimidating. These disciples' eyes are scrutinizing and vigilant. They stand erect, like javelins, ever vigilant, as if no movement escapes their gaze. They are the sect's first line of defense, meticulously guarding its dignity and safety.

When they saw me, their eyes were clearly filled with strangeness. I secretly groaned inwardly. After all, the original owner, Su Xiao, had a truly terrible reputation within the sect. In the past, Su Xiao always relied on her status as a direct disciple of a certain elder to wantonly bully other disciples. Her style was arrogant and unscrupulous. The original owner, Su Xiao, always wore gorgeous and flamboyant clothing, made of extremely precious silk, every inch of which seemed to exude an aura of luxury. The colors were as bright and dazzling as the brightest stars in the night sky, red like a burning flame, instantly igniting people's attention; pink like the gorgeous sunset on the horizon, giving people a dreamlike beauty; white like the first snow of winter, so pure that people dared not desecrate it. The garment was embroidered with intricate designs. Dragons and phoenixes danced, their figures so vivid they seemed poised to break free from the embroidery thread and soar into the heavens. Flowers blossomed, their delicate beauty so vibrant that the texture of the petals was visible, almost as if one could inhale their fragrance. Every stitch and thread seemed to flaunt her special status, the exquisite craftsmanship a silent declaration of her uniqueness. She strode through the sect with a haughty air, each step tinged with arrogance and disdain, her eyes filled with contempt for others, as if everyone else in the sect were inferior to her. She was like a proud peacock, flaunting her beauty and nobility among the crowd, completely disregarding the feelings of others. I knew the mess left behind by the previous owner would be difficult to clean up, but at this moment, I had no choice but to forge ahead. I tried to appear calm, but within, my heart was like a turbulent sea, its waves heaving and surging. My palms were already covered in cold sweat, beads of sweat rolling down them. I could only tightly grip the corner of my clothes, trying to relieve the tension in my heart. The corner of my clothes was wrinkled from being pinched, as if it was also bearing the pressure in my heart.

Upon entering the sect, the magnificent architecture filled me with awe. Pavilions and towers were arranged in a staggered pattern, like pieces meticulously arranged on a chessboard by a master chess player. Each building possessed a unique style, like a unique artistic treasure. The eaves and brackets were intricately carved with designs. Some depicted auspicious dragons and phoenixes, their graceful figures swift and lifelike, their scales and feathers vivid. Each scale resembled a meticulously polished gem, radiating a mysterious luster; each feather, painted with the finest brushstrokes, a vibrant brilliance. They seemed to soar from the buildings, soaring into the sky. Their gestures were filled with power and vitality, as if they told stories of ancient myths and legends. Others were exotic flowers, their blossoms delicate and radiant, their petals still dripping with morning dew, shimmering in the sunlight like stars falling to earth, dazzling and captivating. The lush branches and leaves resembled a sea of ​​green, each leaf like a meticulously carved jade, delicate and full of life. Disciples from the sect came and went, each bustling with activity. Some were practicing martial arts, each move a swift and powerful one. One disciple wielded a longsword, its blade gleaming in the sunlight like a winter icicle, cold and sharp. His movements were swift and agile, his swordplay as fierce as a violent storm. Every swing of his sword stirred a gust of wind, a whistling sound that stirred the air around him, forming tiny vortices, a testament to his profound martial arts prowess. Some were discussing magic, muttering to themselves. They clutched various spellbooks, their eyes focused like hungry men pounce on bread. Sometimes they frowned in thought, their furrows like two small hillocks, revealing the confusion they felt as they pondered. Sometimes, with a sudden realization, their eyes sparkled with excitement, as if they had discovered a new world. They shared their understandings and insights into magic, the lively atmosphere of the discussion seemingly igniting the air around them.

I was informed that I was going to meet the headmaster, and on my way there, I felt incredibly nervous. I walked along a path paved with cobblestones. The pebbles were uniform in size, smooth and round, polished by time until even the slightest edge was lost. Each pebble was like a work of art meticulously crafted by time, lying quietly on the path, witnessing the passage of time. The path was lined with a variety of flowers. There were gorgeous peonies, their petals cascading like the hem of a young girl's skirt, flowing in the wind, full of vibrant beauty. The colors were vibrant and eye-catching. The red was fiery, passionate and unrestrained, like the dancing flames of a burning fire; the pink was like the rosy clouds on the horizon, giving off a dreamy feeling; the white was like snow, pure and without a trace of impurities, like the first snow of winter, giving people a sense of tranquility and holiness. Each peony exudes a rich fragrance, permeating the air like an invisible ribbon, entangling everything around it, making one feel as if they were in a sea of ​​flowers, enveloped by the rich aroma. Orchids, with their delicate, fresh blossoms, resemble delicate little bells, their elegant colors pure and simple, emitting a subtle fragrance that is subtle and lingering, like a demure woman quietly exuding her charm in a corner, bringing peace and joy to the senses. The orchid's leaves are slender and emerald green, as soft as jade, swaying gently in the breeze, adding a touch of elegance. Their swaying gestures resemble the graceful movements of a dancer, each movement imbued with poetry.

It was then that I encountered the heroine, Yun Yao. Dressed in a white gown as white as snow, her sleeves fluttering, Yun Yao looked like a fairy from a painting. Her hair was as smooth as black satin, held up with a simple jade hairpin, intricately carved with an orchid pattern, delicate as a real one, complementing her elegant demeanor. Her face was exquisitely crafted, her eyebrows long and curving like the softest willow leaves in spring, gently stretching across her bright eyes, adding a touch of lively beauty. Her eyes, clear and deep, seemed to hold countless stars, and every blink was like a twinkling star, a shimmering light like the brightest star in the night sky, captivating and captivating. Her nose was small and straight, like a delicate hillock in the center of her face; her lips, like delicate cherries, were slightly pouty, a gesture that spoke of endless tenderness. Every detail was perfectly balanced, as if a work of art meticulously crafted by heaven. She was accompanied by several other young sisters, each of whom was equally beautiful and possessed a distinguished demeanor. While not as striking as Yun Yao's, their attire was equally distinctive, ranging from elegant to flamboyant, befitting their personalities. Some wore elegant, plain long dresses, their colors like the morning mist, lending a hazy and mysterious air; others wore vibrant, colorful garments, their colors like blooming flowers, brimming with energy and vitality.

Yun Yao's eyes flickered with suspicion when she saw me. She seemed to sense something was different about me today. Su Xiao used to be arrogant, her eyes filled with challenge, but today, I lowered my head, a hint of humility and nervousness in my eyes. I bowed slightly, eyes downcast, not wanting to meet Yun Yao's gaze. I whispered, "Hello, Senior Sister Yun Yao." My voice was soft and gentle, with a subtle hint of nervousness, like the trembling of a frightened deer. The sound drifted softly through the air, like a feather falling, gentle and feeble. Yun Yao nodded gently, her gaze lingering on me for a moment, as if probing, pondering something. Then, she and her group left. I looked up, watching Yun Yao retreat, and a sigh of relief washed over me, feeling as if I had just survived a severe test. The tension slowly receded like a tide, and I secretly congratulated myself for not revealing anything.

I arrived at the headmaster's residence, a small, independent courtyard surrounded by lush bamboo. The bamboos were lush and verdant, each one standing tall and straight, like noble gentlemen. They stood silently, undaunted by wind and rain, clinging to their purity. The bamboo leaves swayed in the wind, making a gentle rustle, like the rustling of falling rain, adding a sense of tranquility and serenity to the courtyard. Entering the courtyard, the air was filled with a faint, soothing scent of sandalwood, like a gentle silk thread, gently entangling everyone who entered, bringing a sense of calm. The headmaster was an elderly man with a kind face but a sharp gaze. He sat upright in a chair, his Taoist robe immaculately clean. The robe was a deep blue, embroidered with simple runes that shimmered faintly, as if imbued with mysterious power. His long beard, white as snow, draped across his chest, each hair neatly combed, betrayed his rigor and dignity. He was like a towering mountain within the sect, steady and dignified, inspiring awe in his presence.

He looked at me, his eyes scrutinizing and probing. He spoke slowly, "Su Xiao, for the next few days you will be copying scriptures in the library and reflecting on your mistakes." His voice was deep and magnetic, and though gentle, it held an undeniable authority. Like the toll of an ancient bell, it resonated in the silent little room, each word hammering deeply at my heart. I felt a surge of joy, knowing this was a golden opportunity to change the image of the original owner. I quickly and respectfully replied, "Yes, Master. I will obey your instructions." My humble and sincere attitude stood in stark contrast to the original owner's previous arrogance. I lowered my head, not daring to meet the Master's eyes, which were filled with determination and resolve. I would seize this opportunity to completely transform Su Xiao's image within the sect.

After leaving the headmaster's residence, I followed my memorized route straight to the library. The library is a somewhat rustic building, shrouded in silence and stillness, as if shrouded in a mysterious veil. The stillness is like the waters of a lake at night, calm and profound. Entering the library, the scent of aged books washes over me – a unique blend of paper, ink, and time. It's like the whisper of an elder, recounting the vicissitudes of history. The shelves are filled with a variety of books, including ancient thread-bound volumes, their pages yellowed, their handwriting still legible. Those words seem like witnesses to history, recounting the sect's past in ancient script, from its founding to its growth and development, from the legendary stories of successive heads to the heroic deeds of its disciples. Each page is like a door to the past, gently opened to reveal the sect's former glory and honor. There are also newly copied volumes, their paper pristine and exuding the faint scent of ink. The scent of ink is fresh and elegant, like the fragrance of newly blooming flowers in spring. I wander among the bookshelves, searching for the scriptures I need to copy. My fingers gently glide across the shelves, feeling the grain of the wood. Its rough, textured texture seems to tell the history of the bookshelf. Each grain is like a trace left by time, recording the ups and downs the bookshelf has experienced.

Just as I finally found the scripture and was about to begin transcribing it, I suddenly heard a deep voice: "Why are you here?" It seemed to come from the depths of darkness, tinged with doubt and indifference. The voice echoed in the silent library, adding a touch of mystery. Like a ghost's whisper, the echoing voice moved between the shelves, making my heart beat faster. I turned and saw it was the protagonist, Chu Feng. He was tall and straight, his slender figure accentuated by a long black robe. The robe was thick and dark, like the color of night, giving off a mysterious and majestic aura. His face was stern, with sword-like eyebrows and star-like eyes. They slanted into his temples like two sharp swords, emitting a cold light. His eyes were deep and bright, revealing an innate majesty, as if they could see into the heart. He frowned and looked at me, his eyes filled with doubt. I was so nervous that I didn't know how to respond. My mind raced, trying to find a reasonable excuse. At this time, the next chapter of the story will open up new suspense...