After leaving Tingchun Cliff, Yun Zhi and Wu Zhaoyan walked along the mountain path.
Most of the night-watch disciples recognized these two immortal lords, their jade tokens from the Immortal Alliance marking their status, so no one stopped them.
Yun Zhi sighed softly. "What's done is done. Let it go."
His words were vague, but Wu Zhaoyan understood—Yun Zhi was speaking to him.
Wu Zhaoyan paused, standing on the high steps as he gazed down at the vast expanse of Yingshan, its dense layers of trees. He had often come here as a child.
"I just keep thinking—if I had been gentler, less prideful, and confessed my feelings to her sooner, would things have turned out differently?"
Yun Zhi, who had no romantic experience himself, seemed at a loss for words. He remained silent, the howling night wind rushing past his ears. Beside him stood his childhood friend, and he could hear the heaviness in Wu Zhaoyan’s breathing, knowing how deeply he was hurting.
"Zhaoyan, if you changed, you wouldn’t be yourself anymore. You were a good friend to Xiao Wu. Truthfully… the two of you were only ever meant to be friends."
As an outsider, Yun Zhi saw things clearly.
"Xiao Wu has always been proud, just like you. When you fought, neither of you would back down—I always had to mediate. Mo Zhu, that boy… he’s patient, knows how to coax her, lets her have her way. You’re different. You were raised as a young master, then became the head of your family, and later an immortal lord."
His life had been smooth sailing, showered with admiration. He never learned to yield, couldn’t bring himself to humble his pride and appease her. All those years together, yet he never told Yu Zhiling how he felt.
Stubborn and not particularly gentle—that was why they were only suited to be friends.
Yun Zhi patted his shoulder. "Don’t dwell on it. As long as Xiao Wu is happy—she adores Mo Zhu, and he adores her. That boy may be young, a bit aloof, but he’s talented and righteous. He’s no bad sort. You don’t need to worry."
Wu Zhaoyan’s gaze was distant, his mind adrift ever since he heard Yu Zhiling had entered a marriage bond.
"I shouldn’t have argued with her back then… After Immortal Fuchun died, she was even less likely to accept any romantic feelings. I kept hesitating, suppressing my emotions over and over—until I lost her. How can I blame Mo Zhu for stepping in? Yun Zhi, this is my fault."
Yun Zhi sighed helplessly. "Zhaoyan, we’re still Xiao Wu’s friends. She’s sacrificed so much—we need to do something. Pull yourself together. We have to make sure she survives."
"The Demon Abyss is treacherous. She needs you. Don’t overthink it."
That was all the comfort Yun Zhi could offer. After a century of unspoken love, Wu Zhaoyan wouldn’t stand in the way of Yu Zhiling’s happiness with Mo Zhu—but letting go completely? That was impossible.
Wu Zhaoyan murmured, "Yes… I must do something for her."
Yun Zhi withdrew his hand and started down the mountain, calling back, "The world is vast. Perhaps your fate still awaits. Let’s go."
Wu Zhaoyan turned for one last look at Yingshan. The peaks were alight, Tingchun Cliff the only place without a curfew.
Then he turned away and followed Yun Zhi down.
Yu Zhiling activated all the barriers around Tingchun Cliff—not even a bird could fly out now.
The room was warm and humid, mist curling in the air as she leaned into Mo Zhu’s embrace. He set her down, cradling her face to kiss her.
Yu Zhiling ducked away slightly. "Should we… eat first?"
Mo Zhu deftly untied her sash, kissing her between words. "Are you hungry, Shizun?"
"…Not really."
Truthfully, she wasn’t. She’d snacked on pastries while waiting for him earlier. But she was nervous.
Mo Zhu chuckled, his chest vibrating against her until she swatted him.
"Stop laughing!"
He obediently stifled his amusement, lifting her by the hips to undo the ties of her inner robe.
"Then no need for a meal. Shizun doesn’t seem hungry."
Her disciple knew her well—she never missed a chance to eat when idle.
He worked quickly, stripping her bare before she smacked his arm. "Why am I the only one undressed?"
Mo Zhu laughed again, lowering her into the hot spring. She scrambled to the far edge, while he took his time disrobing at the poolside.
Yu Zhiling turned away, not daring to look, until she felt him enter the water. Soft lips brushed her shoulder as he stood behind her—the spring reached her chest but only his waist. His hands wandered, exploring her body with deliberate tenderness.
Soft gasps soon filled the air. Yu Zhiling’s mind fogged as she clung to the edge, breathless. "D-did you… read it?"
Mo Zhu kissed her neck, voice rough. "I did. Once."
"Just once?"
"It was all text. One glance was enough."
She huffed. "I told you to buy an illustrated manual, not a novel!"
"Didn’t like those. Just pictures. I only need to look at Shizun’s body." His hands roamed further, drawing out increasingly wanton sounds until she squirmed, trapped between the stone and his embrace.
"Th-the shopkeeper said they were unprepared. But I know what to do now."
Yu Zhiling hesitated. "You… you really know how?"
Mo Zhu rinsed his hands in the spring, then whispered at her ear, "Yes. Just bear with it—it’ll only hurt for a moment."
And indeed, he had learned. Over the next half-hour, Yu Zhiling discovered that a swordsmanship prodigy with a flawless memory needed only one reading to master such a manual.
The book had warned against rushing—insufficient preparation could harm a woman. Yesterday, he’d hurt her. Today, no matter how eager, he restrained himself.
His hands, always neatly groomed, were made for wielding a blade—calloused fingertips meant to reduce friction now found a new purpose. Unlike before, he didn’t stop at the surface. One finger, then two, he tested her limits with slow, measured patience.
Yu Zhiling folded her arms on the pool’s edge, forehead pressed to them as Mo Zhu’s other hand cradled her stomach, shielding her from the rough stone. Try as she might, she couldn’t silence her cries.
"Shizun," he coaxed, voice low and intoxicating, "let me hear you. I love your voice."
But shame burned too hot. She bit her lip—until he played unfairly, reducing her to helpless whimpers, her body arching between the unyielding wall and his relentless touch.
Until her shoulders trembled violently, her body quivering, she suddenly went limp and nearly collapsed, only to be caught by Mo Zhu, who flipped her over to face him.
They were now eye to eye. Yu Zhiling’s gaze was unfocused, her fair skin flushed pink. Mo Zhu cupped her face and kissed her lips, the fierce, tangled kiss stealing her breath away. She had no idea when he had finished bathing her.
By the time Mo Zhu carried her out of the bathing chamber, drying them both with a wave of spiritual energy, her mind was still hazy, her body sinking into the soft bedding as she struggled to recover from the lingering aftershocks.
Mo Zhu reached for his Qiankun bag, retrieving a hair ribbon. With one hand, he lifted Yu Zhiling’s head, while the other swiftly gathered her long, cascading black hair—nearly reaching her waist—into a loose tie.
During their previous intimacies, he had always done this, ensuring their view of each other remained unobstructed.
Yu Zhiling’s lips parted slightly, her breathing ragged, her chest rising and falling rapidly. She was barely aware of what Mo Zhu was doing.
Holding an illumination pearl, Mo Zhu inspected the marks from the night before. He had applied medicine before leaving, and thanks to a cultivator’s strong healing abilities, there was no trace of injury left.
A relieved sigh escaped him. Good thing I didn’t push further last night—she would’ve been badly hurt. The thought had gnawed at him all day while descending the mountain.
Leaning down, Mo Zhu pressed a tender kiss to Yu Zhiling’s lips, lingering until she gradually regained her senses.
One hand rummaged through the Qiankun bag while the other teased her skin, drawing out soft, kitten-like whimpers. Despite her usual bold demeanor, Yu Zhiling was inexperienced in matters of love. Her first relationship had led straight to a marriage bond, leaving her hesitant, even with her voice—only losing control when overwhelmed by pleasure.
Mo Zhu lifted slightly, uncorking a small porcelain vial. The scent of snow lotus filled the air.
Yu Zhiling blinked dazedly. "What is that?"
Mo Zhu’s ears burned red, his neck and cheeks flushed, sweat beading on his forehead as he murmured, "Something my master mentioned."
Understanding dawned, and Yu Zhiling turned her head away, as if avoiding the truth. "Do we really need it? I’m… I’m fine now."
Mo Zhu gave a quiet hum. "It also… helps with relaxation. Harmless, I made sure. Just to ease your nerves—and make things smoother for us."
Her tension the night before had been part of why they’d struggled. Yu Zhiling covered her face, her voice barely audible. "Then… go ahead."
The effects were swift. Heat pooled low in Yu Zhiling’s belly as she gripped Mo Zhu’s arm, her breaths shallow, her gaze averted.
Now it was Mo Zhu’s turn to be nervous. His heart pounded so fiercely he feared it might burst. Looking down at her—flushed, bare, marked by his passion, utterly enveloped in his scent—he swallowed hard.
Brushing aside the stray hairs clinging to her temples, he spoke hoarsely, "Master, tonight… I won’t stop."
Yu Zhiling nodded. "Okay."
And then he began.
It still hurt—for both of them—but not with the same suffocating intensity as before. When they finally joined completely, Mo Zhu shuddered from the pain, and so did she, even more violently.
Yet amid the discomfort and tension, where pleasure had yet to surface, there was only overwhelming joy and love.
Mo Zhu kissed her again, slow and deep, letting her adjust. They fumbled, clumsy and cautious, their first union lasting barely fifteen minutes before Yu Zhiling tensed unexpectedly, drawing a pained groan from Mo Zhu, who nearly collapsed onto her.
They stared at each other in stunned silence until Mo Zhu stammered, face aflame, "Master, I—I’m sorry."
Yu Zhiling pulled him close, kissing his lips reassuringly. "It’s alright. You did well. Let’s clean up and rest—it’s late."
She wasn’t sure what to make of their progress, but Mo Zhu had tried his best, and neither had enjoyed it much. Maybe they should wait.
But "later" was too vague for Mo Zhu. Some things couldn’t be postponed. His kisses descended like a storm, youthful pride refusing surrender. He’d waited too long to let her go now. This time, with experience guiding him, he was bolder.
Yu Zhiling’s eyes glazed over, yielding to his every whim as he poured out years of pent-up longing, fierce and unrelenting. In her daze, she thought dimly, Thank the heavens Senior Brother Xiang Wuxue crafted these furnishings—sturdy enough to withstand this.
"Master, look at me. I’m here."
"Master, don’t close your eyes. Open them. See what I’m doing to you."
His words were relentless, denying her even sleep. The moment her awareness wavered, he’d rouse her, demanding her gaze.
Yu Zhiling had been willing from the start, not wanting to dampen their passion, content to let him have his way. But hours had passed. Each time she forced her eyes open, there he was—watching her hungrily, showing no sign of stopping.
Sweat dripped onto her skin as Mo Zhu shattered her initial impression of him. This little serpent was relentless.
The bed curtains remained drawn all night, the quiet of Tingchun Cliff broken only by muffled sounds from one courtyard. By dawn, tearful protests rose, swiftly soothed by a deep, coaxing voice.
Morning light filtered through cyan drapes as a large, slender hand emerged, its back marked with bite marks.
Mo Zhu pushed the curtains aside, airing out the room. The bedding was in disarray, Yu Zhiling curled under blankets at the far edge. He knew she wasn’t asleep—nor truly exhausted. A cultivator of her level could run laps around Ying Mountain without breaking a sweat.
But even for a Transcendent Realm expert, the night’s repeated peaks had left her legs weak, aftershocks still trembling through her. She feigned sleep, shoulders occasionally twitching.
Mo Zhu leaned in, kissing her cheek. "Master, does it hurt?"
He meant all kinds of hurt—even pleasure could be overwhelming. Yu Zhiling, irritated, kept her eyes shut, ignoring him.
Mo Zhu propped himself up and lifted her into his arms, wrapping her in a thin blanket to ensure she wouldn’t catch a chill. He murmured softly, "The room smells too strong. We should clean it up. How about sleeping in my place for now?"
She didn’t answer, clearly unwilling to engage with him. Mo Zhu wasn’t offended—he knew her silence meant consent. Bundling her in the blanket, he carried her to the neighboring courtyard.
His bed wasn’t as soft as hers, and Yu Zhiling might not be used to it, but she didn’t have the luxury of being picky right now. As soon as Mo Zhu set her down, she instinctively rolled to the inner side of the bed.
Mo Zhu chuckled, stripping off his outer robe before climbing onto the bed. He wrapped an arm around her waist from behind, pressing a kiss to her shoulder before resting his forehead against it. "Master," he murmured, voice thick with satisfaction, "that felt so good."
Yu Zhiling kicked him under the covers. "Shut up!"
Her voice came out hoarse and rough.
The moment he brought it up, shame burned through her, and she regretted ever agreeing to this. She should have made him endure it—let him deal with his own needs.
But he was a snake, after all. Unlike human cultivators, the physiology of a celestial serpent was different.
He could finish once and immediately go for a second round, giving her no time to recover. She still hadn’t dared to examine the anatomy of a male tengu serpent too closely, but she knew Mo Zhu had spent the entire night in bliss. The bed was a mess, and though Yu Zhiling had scolded him at first, by the end, she could only let him have his way.
The slightest movement made her aware of the lingering discomfort, and she huffed in frustration. "Clean me up already! This is all your fault!"
Mo Zhu had already planned to do just that, but her demand only made him laugh. "I’ll heat some water. How about a bath?"
"Hurry up!"
He was unusually obedient now, enduring her slaps, scratches, and bites without complaint. Yu Zhiling’s temper had grown fiercer lately, and Mo Zhu adored it—her fiery spirit made her even more endearing.
The bath was soon prepared. Mo Zhu carried her to the spring, testing the water temperature before stepping in.
Yu Zhiling clung to him, letting him wash her without protest—until she felt his hands wandering. A soft moan escaped her, and she smacked his shoulder. "Mo Zhu, hands off! It’s barely been a night!"
Mo Zhu pinned her against the edge of the spring, the water making everything easier. Their foreheads touched as they both gasped in unison.
"Can’t help it," he whispered, voice rough. "One last time. I won’t touch you again today, I promise."
But he’d already made the decision for her, sealing her lips before she could argue.
Nearly an hour later, Mo Zhu carried her back to the room and laid her on fresh bedding.
Yu Zhiling grabbed a pillow and hurled it at him. "Get out! You’re pushing your luck!"
"I’m sorry, Master. Forgive me?"
Her arms were too weak to put any real force behind the throw, and his skin was too thick to feel it anyway. Mo Zhu let her vent before pouncing, trapping her against the bed. She dodged his kisses at first, but he eventually caught her face, holding her still for a deep, lingering kiss.
When they finally parted, Mo Zhu brushed his thumb over her damp lips, his gaze tender. Yu Zhiling’s face was flushed, her skin littered with marks. He’d tried to be gentle, but his desire for her had spiraled out of control.
"Still uncomfortable?" he asked hoarsely.
Yu Zhiling looped her arms around his neck, pressing their foreheads together. "At first, yes. You read those manuals, but you’re still not very skilled. It hurt—for both of us. But it’s alright."
Mo Zhu swallowed hard. "I’m sorry."
She giggled, kissing the tip of his nose. "How can I blame you? My little disciple is still learning. If you were too good at it, I’d be worried."
Their inexperience had caused discomfort, but it had also deepened their bond.
Mo Zhu massaged her waist gently, peppering kisses along her lips. When he noticed the marks on her neck, his eyes darkened with regret. "I lost control last night. I didn’t hear you telling me to stop. I’ll be more careful next time."
Yu Zhiling leaned close, her whisper barely audible. "Do you know what it means when a girl says ‘no’?"
Mo Zhu frowned. "That she’s refusing?"
"Not always." She nipped his earlobe, murmuring, "You’ll have to learn to tell the difference—whether I genuinely mean ‘stop’ or if I’m just teasing."
Mo Zhu’s throat worked. "Which one was it last night?"
Her eyes gleamed mischievously as she hooked a leg around his waist, deliberately brushing against the curve of his spine.
"Last night…" Her smile was downright foxlike. "Guess."
Mo Zhu opted for a practical approach. When Yu Zhiling spent the entire morning begging him to stop, he decided it was the latter. His reasoning was simple: if her face was flushed, her body tinged pink, her voice trembling and sweet, her gaze liquid with desire, and there were no barriers between them—then she wasn’t truly uncomfortable.
So he could keep going.
Ning Hengwu stood outside Tingchun Cliff.
A disciple nearby asked, "Is Immortal Zhuoyu in seclusion?"
Ning Hengwu frowned, trying Yu Zhiling’s communication jade again. Once more, the call disconnected without an answer.
The barrier was up. Without Yu Zhiling’s permission, no one could enter—Tingchun Cliff was protected by her own lethal arrays. Normally, she left them inactive, allowing free passage.
Why had she activated them today? Was she truly in seclusion?
Perhaps. Mo Zhu had been training diligently, and Yu Zhiling was the same. Both were key players in the upcoming mission to the Demon Abyss—maybe they were pushing themselves to prepare.
"Let’s go," Ning Hengwu said, turning away. "We have to train the others to handle the demonic hordes. Time is running out."
Meanwhile, Tingchun Cliff was in chaos.
Yu Zhiling strained for her jade, but the insatiable serpent beside her refused to give her a moment’s peace. Even if she reached it, she couldn’t answer—not with her lips pressed into the pillow, muffling her whimpers.
When he finally finished his third round of the day, Yu Zhiling kicked him away.
"Get out!"
She yanked the covers over herself. Mo Zhu pushed his sweat-dampened hair back, revealing sharp, striking features still flushed with exertion.
He leaned in to kiss her cheek, coaxing. "Does it hurt? Are you uncomfortable?"
"Can you at least show some restraint?" Yu Zhiling admitted that the act itself was pleasurable—when two people in love shared such intimacy, the bone-deep closeness was something they both cherished. But excess leads to spillage, and she hadn’t gotten a proper night’s sleep in two days.
Mo Zhu propped himself up against the headboard, ignoring Yu Zhiling’s protests as he pulled her—along with the quilt—into his arms.
"I can’t help it. I love it too much." Mo Zhu brushed his lips against the corner of her mouth, his kisses trailing along her cheek. "One glance from you, Master, and I’m undone. One sound from you, and my self-control shatters. Every part of you is beautiful. Every part of you, I adore."
He always said things like this. Over the past two days, Yu Zhiling had gained a profound understanding of just how shameless he could be.
"Shut up!" She clapped a hand over his mouth, her phoenix eyes glaring at him. "You’re not allowed to say such things!"
Mo Zhu’s gaze dipped lower, his throat bobbing slightly.
Yu Zhiling followed his line of sight. Earlier, she had clutched the quilt to cover herself, but now, as her grip loosened, the embroidered coverlet slipped down to her waist.
"Mo Zhu!!!"
He laughed, holding her close, his voice clear and bright. "No more, Master. Rest for a while."
He’d been reckless these past two days, well aware he’d gone too far. But having tasted passion for the first time, the addictive sweetness of it was impossible to resist. Mo Zhu closed his eyes, cradling Yu Zhiling against him, his chin resting atop her head as she nestled into his embrace. For a rare moment, the two of them simply lingered in quiet stillness.
After a long pause, Yu Zhiling spoke softly. "Mo Zhu, we’ll be entering the Demon Abyss in a few days."
Mo Zhu opened his eyes. "I know."
Yu Zhiling’s gaze drifted to the scattered robes strewn across the floor—her pale green garments tangled with his dark ones, forming a chaotic yet oddly beautiful scene.
"I’ll be leading the charge this time. I need you to stay outside with the disciples and hold off the demonic hordes. Sui Ji and I will enter the Land of Eternal Night first. We don’t know what’s inside, so we can’t all go in together."
She had expected Mo Zhu to refuse—had spent every spare moment these past two days agonizing over how to persuade him.
But instead, he simply fell silent for what felt like an eternity. When Yu Zhiling finally tilted her head up to look at him, she was startled to find his gaze already fixed on her, dark and unreadable.
Mo Zhu leaned down, pressing a light kiss to her eyelids. "Is this the best plan you could come up with, Master?"
"...Yes." Yu Zhiling’s voice was steady. "There are too many young disciples. Without knowing what awaits inside, I don’t dare bring them in. Once we enter the Demon Abyss, we’ll be surrounded by demons and dark cultivators. You and I are the only ones at the Transcendent Realm. I need you to protect them. Do you understand?"
Mo Zhu nuzzled her forehead, his voice low. "I understand. I agree."
Yu Zhiling hadn’t expected him to yield so easily. She’d racked her brain for arguments, yet none of them had been necessary—Mo Zhu had accepted without hesitation.
As if sensing her confusion, Mo Zhu’s eyes softened, his voice barely above a whisper. "If we hadn’t formed the Twin-Life Marriage Bond, I would have stopped you. I wouldn’t have let you take such risks. But now, it’s different."
Yu Zhiling frowned. "Why?"
"Because we’re bound by the Twin-Life Oath. If you die, I will follow you without hesitation. Even if we can’t share life, sharing death is an honor you’ve granted me. It gives me peace. And I trust that your love for me will drive you to survive, no matter what. So go, Master. Do what you must."
Because she loved Mo Zhu—because she didn’t want him to die, because she wanted him to live—
She would claw her way back to him, even with her last breath.
Only if she lived, could he live.
