All night long, Qing Xu was lost in thought.
Master Yuan didn’t find anything unusual about it.
Qing Xu had always been like this—carefree about everything, forever wearing that infuriatingly nonchalant smirk.
Half the mountain gates were demolished? He didn’t care. A good number of Peak Masters and elders had fled? Still, he couldn’t be bothered.
As Master Yuan paced fretfully, sighing heavily, he couldn’t help but envy Qing Xu’s indifference.
"What a fine sect, reduced to this!" he lamented bitterly. "These juniors truly have no respect for their elders!"
Recalling his brief clash with Li Zhaoye earlier that day, his brow furrowed slightly.
He turned to Qing Xu and complained, "If you had fought alongside me, we might’ve stood a chance against him!"
Qing Xu snapped out of his daze just enough to offer a half-hearted response.
Lifting his long, peach-blossom eyes, he said with utter resignation, "And what if we had? Could you have actually harmed the Divine Sovereign?"
Master Yuan scoffed. "Even if it cost us dearly, capturing him and dragging him back to the Divine Palace would’ve made the rest of those upstarts easy to handle!"
Qing Xu gave him a look of pure exasperation.
Master Yuan frowned. "Is there a problem with that?"
Qing Xu tilted his head. "Shouldn’t the Divine Palace retrieve their own sovereign? Why overstep?"
Master Yuan choked on his words.
Lately, he’d been drowning in sect affairs, too overwhelmed to think straight.
Right—if the Divine Sovereign was running amok, that was the Divine Palace’s concern.
"I’ll send word to the Divine Palace about his whereabouts," Master Yuan sighed. "With the world teetering on the edge of chaos, the Divine Sovereign’s absence spells disaster for all!"
And they’d need to reclaim the sect leader’s token from Xu Junzhu soon.
He sighed again, only to turn and find Qing Xu zoning out once more.
"I’m the only one who cares!" Master Yuan fumed. "Junior Brother, could you at least try to shoulder some responsibility?"
Just as he was about to lecture him further, faint murmurs drifted over from the ruins nearby.
Disciple A: "I really think the Divine Sovereign looks just like Senior Brother. He didn’t even touch the Radiant Pavilion where Junior Sister used to live. But the masters insist it’s not him."
Disciple B: "Isn’t it obvious? He used that name at the Azure Cloud Tournament—Li Zhaoye beating Chen Xuanyi. The more you think about it, the more it fits, right?"
Disciple C: "Exactly. When Junior Sister killed Chen Xuanyi, Master Uncle Lingxue didn’t lift a finger to stop her—that says everything."
Disciple D: "Let it go. Even if it’s true, what can we do? We’re the master’s direct disciples. They wouldn’t take us even if we wanted to join them."
The others: "Sigh…"
Master Yuan’s fists clenched, veins bulging at his temples.
These were his own disciples.
Even they…
"Have I ever failed them? Failed this sect?" Master Yuan seethed.
He was about to confront them when their conversation shifted to Luo Luo.
Disciple A: "Honestly, I don’t think Senior Sister would care about origins. Junior Sister was Qing Xu’s disciple too, wasn’t she? Defecting was as simple as saying the word."
Master Yuan’s eye twitched violently.
He shot Qing Xu a mocking glance. "Hear that? ‘Defecting.’ Serves you right for acting like nothing’s wrong."
But when he turned back, he froze.
Qing Xu had gone completely still, his entire body trembling, his expression twisted as if suppressing unbearable agony.
Master Yuan raised a brow. "What, does the heartless Qing Xu actually care about his little disciple?"
Before he could finish, Qing Xu’s chest heaved, and he spat out a mouthful of soul-blood.
Master Yuan: "…"
He stared, dumbfounded. "Is it really that heartbreaking?"
Qing Xu hunched over, his face pale, blood staining his lips. His eyes were shadowed, unreadable.
Master Yuan eyed him suspiciously. "You…"
Qing Xu waved a hand weakly, signaling he was fine.
Master Yuan: "You don’t look fine."
A faint sizzling sound came from where the soul-blood had landed on the mountain path.
Master Yuan frowned and moved to inspect it, but Qing Xu staggered forward, blocking his view.
"Right," Qing Xu straightened with effort, wiping the blood from his lips with his sleeve. His smile was icy. "Luo Luo… truly breaks my heart."
"Your soul-blood isn’t right, Qing Xu."
Their eyes met, Master Yuan’s gaze hardening.
Qing Xu’s smile faded.
"Yuan," he said softly, "some things are better left unsaid."
"Like what?"
"Like," Qing Xu’s voice was cold, his lips still smeared with blood, "did Lingxue really ask me to hand over the sect’s barrier array to you?"
Master Yuan’s pupils contracted slightly.
"Don’t act surprised," Qing Xu drawled. "If you don’t plan to defect, clean up this blood for me. Luo Luo’s betrayal has exhausted me."
He turned and walked away, leaving Master Yuan staring after him, eyes dark with turmoil.
After a long pause, Master Yuan looked down at the blood on the path.
A faint hum resonated from it.
Even though he’d suspected, seeing the ancient aura shimmering within the soul-blood still made his head spin.
Two of the Three Sovereigns’ essences were already lost.
The last one… was in Qing Xu’s hands!
Master Yuan stiffly crouched, reaching out to touch it.
The essence had fused deeply with the soul-blood—this wasn’t recent. Qing Xu had stolen the Hongmeng essence years ago and fully refined it.
Dazed, he lifted his gaze to the distant mountains.
So the foundation of this peaceful world… had long been hollowed out.
Winter Sovereign Peak. Luo Luo’s Pavilion.
"That thing Qing Xu has is dangerous," Li Zhaoye said. "It can open the entrance to the Sealed Divine Palace. It’s probably an essence."
Xu Junzhu’s hair stood on end. "The last essence?!"
Luo Luo’s eyes widened, and she sat up straight.
Li Zhaoye glanced at her. "Yes. The ink box on your table."
Luo Luo’s jaw dropped.
After a beat, she nodded numbly. "Look on the bright side—all three essences are gone, but the Sealed Divine Palace hasn’t collapsed. That’s… good. Heh."
Xu Junzhu: "…"
Li Zhaoye: "…"
Finally, Xu Junzhu sighed and changed the subject. "With all three essences missing, some people are still fighting over three lousy plaques."
This was exhausting.
Luo Luo nodded vigorously. "Right! The Flame Hall, the Ancient Sovereign Hall, the Azure Feather Hall—how shameless can they be?"
Xu Junzhu felt a flicker of warmth. "You understand."
"Mm!" Luo Luo nodded vigorously. "This Spirit Mountain is such a blessed land—golden everywhere, practically raining money. Of course, the main hall should be called the Hall of Fortune!"
Xu Junzhu felt her vision darken: "..."
Fortunately, Li Zhaoye didn’t agree.
He reached out and nudged Luo Luo’s head. "You little bumpkin! Who names a hall ‘Fortune’?"
Xu Junzhu secretly sighed in relief. "Phew—what do you think, Senior Brother?"
Li Zhaoye grinned. "Obviously, it should be the Hall of Prosperity. Blooming wealth."
Xu Junzhu: "..."
As she stood there utterly speechless, the bickering couple had already launched into their usual squabble.
Luo Luo: "You’re the bumpkin here! So tacky!"
Li Zhaoye: "Me? You’re the one with no taste!"
Luo Luo: "Fortune is tacky, but ‘blooming wealth’ is classy?"
Li Zhaoye: "Uh, obviously?"
Luo Luo: "Your flowers must be planted in dirt, then!"
Li Zhaoye: "..."
Luo Luo pressed her advantage: "Or maybe stuck in cow dung?"
Li Zhaoye: "..."
Xu Junzhu rubbed her temples, exhausted. "Enough. The hall’s name isn’t your concern. With storms brewing, our priority should be strengthening ourselves to face what’s coming."
Luo Luo nodded obediently. "Mm-hmm!"
Li Zhaoye, cut off mid-retort, looked like he might explode from frustration.
Total victory.
Xu Junzhu had no idea why Luo Luo was secretly gloating, but seeing her so docile only made her feel more protective.
Clearing her throat, Xu Junzhu turned serious. "We’ve grown complacent in peacetime. Now that trouble looms, we’re scrambling to catch up."
Luo Luo immediately wilted with guilt.
"Yeah," she mumbled, hanging her head. "I haven’t practiced my swordplay in days."
Xu Junzhu softened. "You’re injured. Rest is natural."
Luo Luo: "My hand’s fine."
Li Zhaoye: "Her hand’s fine."
Xu Junzhu: "...You can’t practice swordplay with just your hands!"
Li Zhaoye and Luo Luo exchanged glances, baffled—why not? Would a wheelchair really interfere? Probably not.
Xu Junzhu pressed on. "Would six hours of daily training be too much?"
She hesitated, studying their reactions. The couple frowned in unison.
Xu Junzhu sighed inwardly. Six hours was too harsh, wasn’t it?
Four hours was already grueling. Piling on more seemed excessive.
Luo Luo squirmed. "Senior Sister, I… I’ve been slacking sometimes."
Xu Junzhu hurried to reassure her. "It’s not your fault. I overreached. If six hours is unreasonable, maybe..."
She waffled between five or four.
Luo Luo, now scarlet, nearly buried her face in her chest. "Senior Sister, I don’t usually train just six hours a day. I usually manage eight."
Xu Junzhu blinked. "...What?"
Luo Luo fidgeted. "Well, sometimes Li Zhaoye gets too… enthusiastic. We spar all night, so the next day I only train six hours."
Li Zhaoye coughed. "Rarely."
Xu Junzhu: "..."
Dazed, she whispered, "So… you two normally train eight hours daily?"
Li Zhaoye and Luo Luo shared a look.
Luo Luo straightened proudly. "With danger coming, we can do ten!"
Li Zhaoye nodded. "Told you we should’ve started earlier."
Xu Junzhu: "..."
Now she understood why these two dominated Tai Xuan Sect.
Heavily, she nodded.
"Three hours till dawn," she said. "I’ll inform everyone to start training at first light. You two rest—Luo Luo, heal up, but..." She eyed Li Zhaoye. "You’ll be there?"
He smirked. "Would I miss it?"
"Good." With a curt nod, she left.
Never had she felt such urgency—like she needed wings to fly back and cram years of missed training into one night.
"Shua!"
Her sword’s icy gleam vanished beyond Luo Luo’s pavilion.
The moment she left, the air turned charged.
Li Zhaoye had rebuilt this pavilion to mirror Luo Luo’s old Radiant Pavilion.
The bed, the furniture, even the trinkets—all hauled from her former home.
For a heartbeat, it felt like the past.
"Only three hours to sleep," she reminded him.
On nights like this, he never bothered returning to his own quarters, opting for her windowsill instead.
Li Zhaoye hummed, lingering on her bed’s edge.
Luo Luo: "Sleep, or you’ll oversleep."
He shot her a sidelong glance. "When have I ever overslept?"
Luo Luo: "...Right."
"Think about it," he said. "First day leading drills? Late arrival? Hilarious."
She could tell he was looking forward to this "leading drills" business.
She felt compelled to warn him: "Be careful with those threads. Don’t slice off limbs."
Li Zhaoye rolled his eyes. "I can’t tell friend from foe?"
Luo Luo pursed her lips, staring pointedly.
Li Zhaoye: "..."
Right. In the Floating Life illusion, she’d spent days dancing—and occasionally dismembering herself—under his sealing threads. (Literally.)
"Fine," he grumbled. "I’ll only bind you."
Luo Luo: "..."
Heat rushed to her cheeks, mercifully hidden by the moonless dark.
"Aren’t you going to the windowsill?" she asked evenly.
After a pause, he drawled, "Nah. You’d sleepwalk over and crack your skull." His lips quirked. "I’m taking the bed."
One long leg swung onto the mattress.
Luo Luo: "...I don’t sleepwalk."
Li Zhaoye arched a brow. "Your mouth is the hardest part of you."
Luo Luo bristled. "Yours is harder!"
In the shadows, his sharp features remained unfairly vivid, dazzling even now.
He chuckled. "Clueless brat."
His voice was lazy, but when he turned, his scent enveloped her—something fierce and unmistakable, like his very essence.
Wild and untamed.
"Let me show you ‘hard,’" he murmured, leaning close—a threat or a tease, she couldn’t tell.
Her heart stuttered.
She… wasn’t entirely ignorant. She’d read enough romance novels.
Never seen a pig run, but... well.
In the dark, she averted her eyes.
"Smack."
His hand closed around her wrist.
Luo Luo froze.
"Here," he said, guiding her palm. "Feel for yourself."
Luo Luo gasped sharply, nearly choking.
To—to touch…touch what?
The more she tried not to let her imagination run wild, the more vivid images flooded her mind.
Thankfully, Changtian wasn’t here.
Noticing her stiffness, Li Zhaoye chuckled lowly and tightened his grip, pulling her hand firmly against his body, forcing her to touch him.
“……”
“……”
Luo Luo exhaled quietly in relief.
Li Zhaoye: “Well? Hard or not?”
Luo Luo: “…Hard.”
He smirked triumphantly. “With that scrawny little frame of yours, you dare call that muscle?”
Luo Luo clutched his arm, solid as steel. “You’re way harder than me!”
In the darkness, she grinned foolishly.
“There’s something even harder,” he murmured.
Luo Luo’s breath hitched for a second before she feigned nonchalance. “Oh…oh?”
His large hand released her wrist.
Before she could react, five long, calloused fingers slid between hers, interlacing tightly in a dominant grip.
Luo Luo steadied her voice. “Your…hand’s calluses?”
Her entire hand was engulfed in his scorching palm, his grip so possessive it felt like he was devouring her skin.
He chuckled again.
In the dark, his presence surged closer.
Luo Luo’s eyes widened, but before she could process it, her hand was pinned to the side—against the pillow.
She inhaled sharply.
His other hand found her free one, hidden at her side, capturing it with the same ruthless efficiency.
Fingers locked, he pressed it down against the opposite pillow.
His silhouette loomed over her, not a single point of contact between them, yet the weight of his dominance pressed down like a tangible threat.
Luo Luo’s heartbeat skyrocketed.
Thump! Thump-thump! Thump-thump-thump!
He leaned in, tilting his head, until his nose brushed hers—a dangerous graze that sent a shiver through her. Instinctively, she closed her eyes and parted her lips slightly.
Pinned hands, kissed against the pillow—she’d read about this in romance novels! She knew what to expect!
She loved his kisses, loved the way he tasted.
She was ready.
His lips descended.
She held her breath, bracing for the storm.
In the darkness, she couldn’t see his face, only felt the heat of his ragged breaths, the predatory edge in his exhales.
His mouth met hers.
A rough, claiming press before he angled his head, skimming toward the corner of her lips.
Luo Luo’s fingers curled reflexively, but with her hands trapped, her fingertips could only trace the hard ridges of his knuckles.
“Mmn…”
The soft sound escaped just as his lips slid to her cheekbone—then sharp teeth nipped her skin.
“Ah!”
Luo Luo hissed. “Li Zhaoye, are you a dog?”
The moment the words left her mouth, her own voice startled her.
It dripped like honey, syrupy and breathy, laced with a husky undertone and thick with unshed tears.
Even scolding him sounded like a coquettish whimper.
Li Zhaoye laughed, the sound vibrating against her skin.
With one hand, he pinned both her wrists above her head, his grip unyielding.
“You—!”
His free hand gripped her chin, tilting her face up.
Before she could protest, his mouth found her throat.
She bit her lip hard, stifling a moan.
Her hands twisted weakly against the pillow; her knees drew up instinctively.
Between kisses, he murmured, “Does this hurt? How about here?”
His lips traced every bruise left by his earlier roughness, lavishing each mark with slow, deliberate attention.
Luo Luo’s eyes flew open, her lungs burning for air. The room felt suffocatingly hot—she arched against the pillow, gasping like a fish stranded on shore.
“Li Zhaoye…”
The sound of her own voice made her cheeks burn.
He paused, two fingers still gripping her chin, and lifted his head to study her.
Dazed, she mumbled, “We…have to get up early tomorrow…”
He smirked. “Don’t worry. You’ll make it.”
His voice had dropped to a rough, teasing rasp, unbearably seductive.
Then his teeth caught her lower lip, tugging lightly before he returned to her throat, mouth searing a path along her collarbone.
Soon, Luo Luo understood why he’d left her mouth unoccupied.
He guided her hand downward, pressing her palm against his body.
His robes had somehow come undone, the collar gaping open. Her fingers trembled as he dragged them over the hard planes of his torso—
Her overwhelmed mind struggled to keep up.
Chest. Abs. That infuriatingly defined waist—
He grinned. “Well?”
When she didn’t answer, he kept prodding.
Luo Luo wanted to bury her face in her hands. “Li Zhaoye!”
The more flustered she got, the louder he laughed.
He cupped her jaw, bringing her close. “While I’m kissing you, you can touch wherever you want.”
Luo Luo: “…”
After all the romance novels she’d devoured, she’d never encountered someone this shameless!
“Understood?” he demanded.
“…Mm.”
Satisfied, he claimed her mouth again.
Blind in the dark, every sensation amplified. His scent, his heat—her head spun, fireworks exploding behind her eyelids before he’d even really started.
Mindful of her injuries, he kept his weight off her, their bodies separated by a sliver of space where only heat and breath intertwined.
Dazed by his kisses, Luo Luo instinctively chased his lips whenever he pulled back slightly, her back arching off the bed.
Then—
“Mmph—!”
His mouth swallowed her startled noise as his hand slid lower.
Luo Luo’s eyes flew open. “…”
Ohhh. So that’s what he meant by “touch wherever”!
His palm was rough, calloused.
When it closed over her racing heart, she swore it would burst through her ribs to meet his touch.
“Li Zhaoye…”
The fragmented plea vanished into his kiss as his movements grew more relentless.
And just like that, he devoured the rose-flavored pastry he’d craved for so long.
Breathless and disoriented, Luo Luo cracked her eyes open—only to spot a sliver of light creeping beneath the door and through the window cracks.
It’s the middle of the night…where’s that light coming from?
Still dazed, she obediently responded as Li Zhaoye’s lips found hers again, his hand gripping her waist to drag her closer.
But just as their kisses deepened, distant noises erupted outside.
Voices murmured, “No way…there’s no chance the Head Disciple overslept…”
Li Zhaoye stilled, displeased.
He tilted his head, listening.
To Luo Luo’s surprise, she could suddenly see his face—dimly, but no longer in total darkness.
His eyes.
Those striking, half-lidded eyes burned with a possessiveness so dark, so hungry, it stole her breath. All night, he’d held back—just how much restraint had he exercised?
His gaze flicked to the dawn light seeping through the window.
His lips twitched.
Then he turned back, tapping her nose.
With shameless audacity, he accused, “You clung to me all night, insatiable. Didn’t even notice the sun was up?”
Luo Luo: “…”
She wanted to retort, but her voice had been thoroughly ruined.
Li Zhaoye noticed she was speechless, his dark eyes brimming with amusement. "That’ll teach you to moan and whimper all night," he teased.
Luo Luo, furious, raised her foot to kick him.
Their knees collided, and both of them winced in unison.
"Ouch!"
"Ah!"
Clutching her throbbing knee, Luo Luo hissed in a hoarse voice, "Why are you bringing a sword to bed?!"
Li Zhaoye: "…I’m leaving!"
A sword? Fine, a sword it is!
Bending at the waist, he hopped off the bed and stumbled away in a fluster, fleeing Luo Luo’s pavilion once again in disgrace.
