Midnight, the Ghost Mound.
As one of the forbidden lands that strike fear into the hearts of countless cultivators, the Ghost Mound is far from undeserving of its reputation.
Exiled demons, malevolent spirits, and vengeful ghosts gather here, their resentment permeating the air like an eternal fog. Even under the cold glow of the moon, one could still see the crimson mist hanging in the air, thick as blood.
Few dared to set foot in this cursed place, yet tonight, the moonlight illuminated two figures locked in a deadly standoff.
They stood poised for the kill, their shadows overlapping over a third figure—a bloodied man collapsed on the ground.
"You're still alive."
A burly young man laughed heartily, delivering a brutal kick to the figure before him. "What a joke—the so-called genius swordsman, the young master of the Pei family, reduced to this pitiful state. In the end, you’ll still die by my hand!"
The kick landed squarely on the man’s abdomen.
Already drenched in blood, his once-white robes now a gruesome crimson, the impact tore open his wound anew, fresh blood seeping out in a horrifying bloom.
The young man grinned wider as his victim shuddered in agony. "So you do feel pain? Back then, Young Master Pei severed my thumb without a second thought—how high and mighty you were!"
The man on the ground was barely clinging to life, his head hanging low, motionless. Yet at those words, his lashes flickered, and he lifted his gaze—just slightly—to meet his tormentor’s eyes.
Those eyes were bloodshot.
Dark as an abyss, they burned with a feral, suppressed fury, threads of crimson weaving through them like vines of madness.
"Remember now?"
The young man sneered, undeterred by the glare. "I was once a servant of the Pei household. I fancied a maid named Zhi Que and sought her favor. But when we met at night, you drove me out of the Pei family under the pretense of 'moral corruption' and had me severely punished. Who would’ve thought the day would come when you’d fall into my hands?"
Of course, this was a prettified version of the truth.
Back then, Zhi Que had wanted nothing to do with him, recoiling at his advances. Enraged, he had resolved to force himself upon her under the cover of night—only for the young master of the Pei family to return from sword practice, hearing her cries for help. With a single stroke, Pei Du had severed his thumb.
His future, his livelihood, and the woman he desired—all lost in a single night, thanks to this man. Branded a disgrace, he had no choice but to join a band of outlaws, surviving through theft and murder.
His anger flared anew as he tightened his grip on his sword, ready to deliver another kick—but the woman in red beside him spoke up. "The Ghost Mound is treacherous. Finish him quickly. We shouldn’t linger."
"Right."
The young man smirked, pressing his blade against the man’s throat. A slight push, and beads of blood welled up like scattered pearls. "The Pei family has offered a hefty bounty for your whereabouts—dead or alive. Even if I kill you here, that reward—"
Before he could finish, his expression twisted sharply. "Who’s there?!"
The woman in red tensed, following his gaze to a jagged rock formation in the distance.
Cultivators possessed keen eyesight, and even from afar, the two could clearly make out the figure standing atop the rocks.
It was a woman.
Alone, slender, and—unbelievably—holding a box of pastries.
Yes, pastries.
The Ghost Mound teemed with demons, and with the recent opening of the Ghost Domain, most cultivators came armed to the teeth with every weapon and poison at their disposal. Yet this woman…
The young man frowned, tearing his gaze from the pastry box to her face—and in that instant, his breath caught.
The stranger was young, dressed in a simple moon-white gown, her dark hair loosely tied up as she lounged lazily atop the rocks.
Though she wore no elaborate adornments, her features carried an effortless allure—narrow willow-leaf eyes gleaming with mischief as they locked onto the two below, a smirk playing at her lips.
"'Seeking Zhi Que’s favor'? How noble-sounding. Who knows what beastly deeds you actually had in mind?"
With that, she leaped down, landing gracefully on the ground.
Neither the young man nor the woman in red noticed how, at the sound of her voice, the bloodied figure on the ground stiffened, forcing himself to lift his head despite the pain.
The woman in red tightened her grip on her sword, glaring at her companion before turning back to the newcomer. "Miss, there’s an order to things. Since we found him first, you have no right to interfere."
With the Ghost Domain’s gates open, countless sects and noble families had gathered here, all eager to claim the Pei family’s bounty. They should’ve ended this sooner—now they’d attracted trouble.
"Order? You two, who’ve slaughtered countless, suddenly care about rules?"
The woman set the pastry box aside, her initial surprise melting back into a smile. "But here’s the thing—if I don’t follow the rules, then there are no rules, right?"
The two froze.
She didn’t look like a rogue cultivator fleeing justice, but no righteous cultivator would ever say such things with a straight face.
This was trouble. Exchanging a glance, the young man and the woman in red summoned their spiritual energy, swords at the ready.
Their opponent, however, seemed unhurried. A flash of white light from her storage pouch, and a shadowy object materialized in her hand.
It wasn’t a talisman, a sword, or an instrument—but a pitch-black longsword. As she flicked her wrist, the scabbard fell away, revealing a blade that gleamed with an icy, sinister light.
Even an amateur could tell—this was no ordinary weapon.
In an era dominated by sword and spell cultivators, blade-wielders were rare.
And a woman wielding such a blade? Nearly unheard of.
"That sword—!"
The woman in red gasped. "The Xie family?!"
"Impossible."
The young man gritted his teeth. "Xie Jingci’s been comatose for a year. Rumor has it her cultivation was destroyed—she might never wake. And even if she did, would the Xie family of Yunjing let her wander the Ghost Mound alone? She’s just some petty thief with a fancy blade, here to steal our bounty!"
The woman tilted her head, glancing at her sword.
His reasoning was sound—she might’ve believed it herself.
If her name wasn’t Xie Jingci.
Of course, the Xie family would never allow her to venture into the Ghost Mound unguarded. But if Xie Jingci slipped away under the pretense of "taking a stroll," that was another matter entirely.
As for why she’d gone to such lengths—
[Stop wasting time and fight already!]
A shrill voice screeched in her mind. Xie Jingci winced as it continued, hysterical: [We’re running out of time! The system’s about to collapse!]
This thing was the root of it all.
A year ago, she’d encountered a demonic entity that shattered her meridians and ravaged her sea of consciousness, leaving her with no hope of recovery. That was when the system appeared.
It claimed to be an incarnation of the Heavenly Dao, offering her a deal: if she played the villain in ten minor worlds, maintaining the balance of fate, she could return to her original body.
In simpler terms—she had to be the worst kind of scum, the stepping stone for the chosen protagonists.
Those days had been the darkest of her life.
It’s common knowledge that the vicious antagonists in small worlds aren’t human—they’re mere tools for slapping faces, tossed wherever needed, as diligent as the donkeys in a production brigade.
The chosen ones of heaven, on the other hand, are flawless from every angle. A single smile from them could make someone want to stay by their side for life. With refined features and an air of effortless grace, they embody the saying, "Thirty years east of the river, thirty years west." Even if the plot is cliché, it never gets old, as they consistently play the fool only to reveal their brilliance in the most understated ways.
As for her? Unfortunately, she’s the opposite—flawed from every conceivable angle. When she grins ferociously, her teeth inevitably clench. She charges into battle with unwavering confidence, only to end up dealing zero damage while suffering catastrophic losses. Yet she persists, undeterred, forever caught in a cycle of slow-motion self-destruction.
After shattering one hundred and thirty-eight porcelain cups, grinding four teeth to dust, and widening her eyes to the size of copper bells for the umpteenth time, Xie Jingci finally achieved her goal: retirement. As a reward, she not only awoke from what should have been certain death but also gained knowledge of this world’s future events.
Her seldom-seen fiancé, Pei Du, would succumb to darkness, slaughtering every major cultivation family—except for the Xie Clan of Yunjing—plunging the world into chaos before being hunted down and executed by the combined efforts of the great sects.
Unbelievable.
Who was Pei Du? The lofty young master of the Pei family, a once-in-a-millennium genius of the sword path, the well-behaved student who competed with her year after year for the top spot in the academy. Calling him the "Light of Righteousness" wouldn’t be an exaggeration. To suggest he’d turn to demonic cultivation—
To borrow a phrase from a certain small world, the odds were about the same as Lin Daiyu uprooting a willow tree with her bare hands.
Out of respect for talent, Xie Jingci asked the system for the full backstory.
Pei Du wasn’t actually a blood descendant of the Pei family but an abandoned child taken in years ago. The only reason he’d been accepted was his uncanny resemblance to the family’s deceased eldest son.
Now that he’d risen to prominence—not only betrothed to the Xie Clan of Yunjing but also posing a threat to the current family head—he’d drawn the jealousy of the matriarch, Bai Wan, and his two elder brothers, who wanted him dead at all costs.
Recently, the Ghost Tomb had grown restless, and the gates of the demon realm were about to emerge. The Pei family had gathered there to suppress the demons, creating the perfect chaos for their scheme.
According to the plan, the second young master, Pei Yu, would feign separation from the group while secretly luring demons to the cliff’s edge with Demon-Summoning Incense.
Meanwhile, Bai Wan would guide Pei Du to the same spot. Given his nature, he’d undoubtedly draw his sword to fight.
But the malevolent spirits of the Ghost Tomb were far beyond what one man could handle alone.
How pitiful.
He offered his unwavering loyalty, unaware that the very people he was risking his life to protect were plotting his demise.
As the demons swarmed, Pei Du fought to his limits. To break free, he resorted to a forbidden family technique, shattering his meridians in the process.
Yet while his sword could slay demons, it couldn’t shield him from human treachery.
Seizing the moment, Bai Wan implanted dense demonic energy into his body. With his meridians in ruins and his body covered in wounds, the demonic influence would overwhelm his mind, leaving him at the mercy of bloodlust.
So when the rest of the Pei family arrived, they found the young master drenched in blood, demonic energy swirling around him, his sword pressed against the matriarch’s throat.
Tears streaming down her face, Bai Wan trembled as she spun a tale of Pei Du’s supposed collusion with demons, his attempt to murder her and her son, and his unforgivable crimes.
Enraged, the family head, Pei Fengnan, struck Pei Du with a palm strike, sending him plummeting off the cliff under the pretense of purging the demonic taint.
If that weren’t tragic enough, just as life slammed one door shut, it also boarded up the only window.
Pei Du survived the fall by sheer will and the last remnants of his spiritual energy, only to encounter ruthless bandits at the cliff’s base. They subjected him to relentless torment.
Though he eventually turned the tables, what followed was an unending parade of suffering—a history written in blood and humiliation.
Once a figure of glory, he now attracted countless individuals and demons who relished trampling the once-untouchable genius into the dirt.
By the time Xie Jingci finished hearing the story, she nearly crushed her one hundred and thirty-ninth porcelain cup on reflex.
Gifted with extraordinary talent, she’d spent her childhood dominating the academy, swaggering with arrogance. Her peers either bowed to her after a fight or surrendered before one even began.
This went on for years—until the academy’s grand competition, where she faced Pei Du.
Nearly everyone in the academy knew why Pei Du had been adopted by the Pei family.
Before that competition, he’d lived under the labels of "replacement" and "country bumpkin," enduring a less-than-pleasant existence.
Xie Jingci had been too focused on honing her blade skills to bother with bullying him, and she scoffed at the idea of "saving" anyone. Pei Du had never occupied even a fleeting thought in her mind.
But during that match, the ever-victorious Miss Xie found herself barely scraping a win, nearly defeated by his sword. For the first time in her life, she felt the urge to conquer someone—
And by "conquer," she meant utterly crushing him in every way.
From then on, she secretly competed with Pei Du.
Though it was entirely one-sided. The sword-obsessed fool probably didn’t even remember her name.
Imagine having a rival you’ve obsessed over for years, only for them to fall from grace before you could force them to their knees, trampled into the mud by a bunch of scheming trash.
Could she tolerate that?
Xie Jingci couldn’t.
They weren’t worthy.
The only one allowed to defeat Pei Du was her. The trash had to be ground into dust—by her hands.
Besides, Pei Du had once saved her life by sheer coincidence. She might have a terrible temper, but she never left debts unpaid.
While she lay unconscious from severe injuries, her parents had traveled north in search of medicine, leaving the household empty. The moment Xie Jingci woke up, her first act was to set off for the Ghost Tomb.
She’d intended to bring an entourage of guards.
But the instant she opened her eyes and sat up, the system voice—which should’ve vanished—reappeared like a stubborn piece of gum, droning on:
[Dimensions not yet fully merged! Host’s character setting has destabilized! Current persona: Alluring and seductive demoness.]
Even this unreliable quick-transmigration came with after-sales service. Looking back, Xie Jingci was certain her expression had been downright sinister.
The so-called "character setting" was just a script of lines and actions to follow at key moments.
She seriously considered the possibility of her persona collapsing mid-scene, leading her to lose control and start shamelessly flirting with the guards—
At that point, she’d rather just close her eyes and slip back into eternal slumber.
So, under the pretense of "needing fresh air," she ventured alone to this godforsaken place.
Staying true to her character, she’d even thoughtfully prepared a box of pastries.
Now, with weapons drawn on both sides, an inevitable clash loomed.
Having wandered through small worlds for so long, Xie Jingci had nearly forgotten the sensations of her original body. But as her fingers tightened around the hilt of her longsword, spiritual energy surged through her veins like a tidal wave, electrifying every fiber of her being.
The blade gleamed under the moonlight, igniting the restless crimson in her eyes.
After days of dormancy, her sword intent and spiritual power collided in a flash of lightning.
"Who I am doesn’t matter," Xie Jingci said.
"Come."
As soon as the words fell, the figure beneath the jagged rocks moved abruptly, surging forward like a splitting bamboo, charging straight toward the two.
Xie Jingci moved with lightning speed, her longsword whistling through the air like a dragon plunging into the sea, letting out a mournful cry.
The young man cursed under his breath, drawing his sword to meet hers. The clash of steel sent tremors through both weapons, reverberating violently.
Spiritual energy gradually flowed through her entire body, like a parched riverbed suddenly blessed with rain, seeping drop by drop into the cracked fissures, bringing an unprecedented sense of relief.
Xie Jingci quietly savored the sensation of this power coursing through her.
In those minor worlds, she had been forced to play the role of a malicious supporting character, constantly humiliated—her spiritual energy unusable, her sword techniques sealed away. She had been stifling her anger with nowhere to vent it, desperate for a good, unrestrained fight.
Those two would never know that the moment she gripped her sword, her blood had surged with excitement, nearly trembling with anticipation.
After several exchanges, her body—bedridden for an entire year—gradually loosened and came alive.
The sword techniques buried deep in her memory resurfaced. Xie Jingci gathered energy in her dantian, channeling spiritual power into the blade.
Initially at a disadvantage, she gradually seized the upper hand through countering their moves, even overpowering the two. Her strikes grew sharper, faster, fiercer—flowing seamlessly like clouds drifting across the sky.
The young man’s eyelids twitched as he finally sensed something amiss.
The spiritual energy emanating from her blade… had already become too much for him to handle.
—Wasn’t she supposed to be a clumsy novice with meager spiritual power?
At the moment their blades clashed once more, her raised sword suddenly twisted, bypassing his slender blade to strike directly at his abdomen.
A surge of spiritual energy erupted violently, like raging waves crashing through his body. The young man had no time to defend himself—he was sent flying several feet back. Xie Jingci pivoted smoothly, her blade now pressed against the red-clad woman’s throat.
Victory was decided in an instant.
Yet Xie Jingci did not strike.
The edge of her blade pressed painfully against the woman’s neck, forcing her to stand frozen in terror. Xie Jingci glanced down at the bloodied Young Master Pei Du, then tilted her chin up slightly. "Apologize to him."
—They still had a chance to live!
Defeat was inevitable. No one could have guessed that this seemingly delicate young woman was actually a formidable fighter.
Exchanging a glance, the two realized this unexpected thorn in their side was still young—surely, she hadn’t yet developed a ruthless, decisive nature. If they begged pitifully enough, they might just escape with their lives.
"I—I’m sorry! I was petty and arrogant! Please, Young Master Pei, be magnanimous and forgive me this once!"
The young man trembled uncontrollably, his voice quivering. "I beg you both, I beg you!"
The red-clad woman hastily added, "Yes, yes! We were wrong! Once we leave, we’ll turn over a new leaf—we won’t breathe a word of this to anyone!"
She then lifted her gaze, cautiously studying Xie Jingci’s expression before tentatively asking, "So… is the young lady satisfied? Can you let us go now?"
Xie Jingci’s expression remained unchanged. Her eyes flickered, and a faint smile curved her lips.
She was radiant by nature, and under the moonlight, the slight upturn of her lips and the faint arch at the corners of her eyes resembled delicate hooks carved from white jade.
The smile was ambiguous, almost cryptic—but the red-clad woman sensed something ominous and shrieked, "You—!"
The longsword flashed. Her voice was cut off mid-sentence.
The scent of iron filled the air as blood sprayed. Xie Jingci erected a spiritual barrier, stepping back to avoid being splattered.
These two were notorious bandits, and they had intended to kill both her and Pei Du. There was no reason to spare them. The troublesome pests were dealt with—though it was a shame they had dirtied her blade.
"Don’t blame me for this."
Her sword trembled slightly as she used its tip to lift the face of the figure on the ground, forcing him to meet her gaze.
Pei Du, who had remained silent all this time, had no choice but to look up at her.
Xie Jingci studied his face intently as she spoke, her tone casual, almost indifferent. "I only told them to apologize. I never said I’d let them go—right?"
The blade gleamed coldly under the moonlight, its edge reflecting a sharp, icy light.
Yet the blood staining its tip was a vivid crimson. With a flick of her wrist, she smeared it along the sharp line of his jaw—cold steel against heated blood, an eerie yet strangely captivating contrast.
Young Master Pei had a face that easily won favor—one admired by many female cultivators in the cultivation world. Even Xie Jingci, who was no stranger to beauty, had silently marveled when she first saw him.
He was still young, his frame caught between adolescence and adulthood. His phoenix eyes were narrow, his lips thin and pressed tightly together. His expression was aloof, distant—but when their eyes met, he froze almost imperceptibly before silently looking away.
Just as always, he remained cold and indifferent toward her.
Her gaze trailed downward. His clothes were in no better state than his body.
His hair ribbon was missing, leaving his dark locks disheveled and cascading down his back. A few strands had been tousled by the wind, sticking to his pale cheeks, matted with blood and dirt.
His robes were even more disheveled—loose and torn in multiple places, revealing the wounds on his right leg. A mere downward glance exposed the pale collarbones beneath his neck.
Xie Jingci was accustomed to seeing him dignified and untouchable. The sight before her now made her frown. "Young Master Pei, do you remember me?"
An ordinary person, suffering injuries this severe, would have long been wailing in agony or passed out from the pain. Yet Pei Du remained lucid. His throat moved slightly.
His lips were stained with blood, a stark contrast against their pallor. His voice was so hoarse it was nearly inaudible—low and rough. After a long pause, he managed a single word: "Xie…"
"Xie" could mean many things.
Xie Jingci couldn’t tell if he was thanking her or attempting to say her name. After all, though they were betrothed, they had hardly ever interacted alone—their meetings could be counted on one hand.
Silence lingered for a moment.
The battered young man coughed weakly, forcing down the metallic taste in his throat. Perhaps uncomfortable under her direct gaze, he averted his eyes and murmured hoarsely, "Miss Xie… why have you come to Ghost Vale?"
Incredible. He actually remembered.
Xie Jingci finally arched a brow and sheathed her sword, an inexplicable sense of delight surfacing as her smile deepened. "What do you think?"
Pei Du struggled to sit up, unwilling to remain in such a humiliating and wretched position.
Even this simple movement caused his wounds to reopen, sending waves of unbearable pain through his flesh, bones, and marrow.
He clenched his teeth, refusing to make a sound.
She was here to break off the engagement. Pei Du knew this well.
His meridians were shattered, demonic energy had invaded his body, and he could no longer even sense the most basic spiritual energy. His body was riddled with injuries—a cripple in every sense, weaker than even an ordinary civilian.
Moreover… to his family, he was now nothing more than a discarded pawn, stripped of all support.
Utterly disgraceful.
Today’s upheaval had come suddenly, yet it had long been foreshadowed.
Pei Du had thought he could endure the scornful gazes of others. But no matter what, he never wanted her to see him like this.
Shame, embarrassment, the desperate urge to flee—every emotion was magnified tenfold, weaving into a suffocating net that left him no escape, his chest tightening with each breath.
For years, Pei Du had secretly admired Miss Xie Jingci, a truth known only to himself.
It had been so long, tucked carefully away in the depths of his heart.
The irony was cruel. He had prayed day and night for her to wake, and now that Xie Jingci had finally opened her eyes, she had caught him at his most wretched moment.
A bitter ache settled in Pei Du’s chest, but no matter what, her awakening was a joyous thing. And now that he had become nothing but a burden, it was only right that the engagement be dissolved. How could he shamelessly cling to something so far beyond his reach?
It was like a beautiful dream, one that had sent him soaring with elation—only to shatter without warning. The pain was his alone to bear.
To everyone else, including Xie Jingci herself, the engagement he had treasured so dearly meant nothing at all.
"My fingers are broken. I cannot write."
The words came with difficulty. He kept his head bowed, refusing to meet her gaze, and shifted his right leg slightly, hiding the exposed skin beneath his robes. "For the annulment document… I can only press my fingerprint."
The movement was slight, but in the hushed silence of the night, the rustle of fabric was unmistakable.
Xie Jingci heard it. Her eyes flicked toward him, and when she realized his intention, her lips curved into a quiet, throaty laugh.
She couldn’t help it. Pei Du had always carried himself like the solemn wind through pine trees—aloof, untouchable, the very picture of propriety. To see him flustered, hiding his leg like a bashful maiden, was nothing short of absurd.
So the young master Pei could be embarrassed about baring a bit of skin.
Pei Du knew she was laughing at him.
The sound burned against his ears, searing with an unbearable heat.
He couldn’t bear the thought of becoming a pitiful joke in the eyes of the woman he adored.
His heart hammered wildly, though his expression remained perfectly composed. Then, as if in a daze, he heard Xie Jingci’s voice:
"Hey, Pei Du."
The same lazy, imperious tone as always, brimming with effortless arrogance.
Every word sent a sharp pain through his battered body, his ribs screaming in protest. Still, he forced himself to respond softly, "Mn."
The Xie family of Yunjing stood on the other side of an insurmountable chasm. After tonight, he would likely never see Miss Xie again.
If he could exchange just a few more words with her, that would be enough.
Her slender shadow drew closer.
Amid the haze of blood, Pei Du caught the scent of sandalwood clinging to her.
He was frozen, breath caught in his throat—but Xie Jingci spoke leisurely, as if detached from it all, her voice a slow, teasing drawl:
"Is a mere annulment all you want?"
Pei Du didn’t understand.
Before he could lift his head, she continued, "For example—"
The words died abruptly.
Xie Jingci’s expression had been sharp as an unsheathed blade, beautiful and lethally striking. But now, for some inexplicable reason, she stilled.
In the sudden silence, she heard the soft chime of her system.
She’d already rehearsed her lines—vengeance, glory, beating the trash out of scum, something cool and electrifying that would earn Pei Du’s awed admiration.
But now, she was certain she was doomed.
"No."
The script forced upon her by the system flickered in her mind. Survival instincts made her reject it outright: "No, absolutely not—this dialogue is unacceptable. Can’t you give me a normal script?"
The system sighed. [Do you think I can just rewrite the world’s plot? The sooner you accept it, the sooner you can move on. Just go with it.]
Xie Jingci: Hah.
Miss Xie’s sudden pause was baffling.
Before Pei Du could ask, she leaned forward without warning and reached out.
A young lady’s hands were meticulously cared for, free of the rough calluses that marked his own.
Her fingers landed lightly on his throat, brushing away the blood from his wound. The touch was soft, cool as silk or cotton.
His carefully controlled thoughts scattered instantly.
The skin of his neck was unbearably sensitive. No one had ever touched him there before. Heat rushed to his head, and he stammered, "Miss Xie—"
As he spoke, his Adam’s apple bobbed beneath her fingers. Xie Jingci seemed to find this amusing and pressed down, trapping it in a gentle, mischievous hold.
Pei Du didn’t dare move a muscle.
"For example..."
Moonlight spilled over them, glinting in her amber eyes. Her lips, naturally red, parted slightly. Though she was a cultivator who sought immortality, in this moment, she looked more like a soul-stealing enchantress.
His heart thudded heavily in his chest.
Pei Du wondered if this was a fever dream before death.
Even in a dream, he held his breath, watching as her lips curved into a smile, her eyes alight with amusement.
She was the girl he had loved for years, the one he no longer dared hope for.
The moon, the incense, the shadow she cast over him, the warm breath ghosting against his skin—it was all intoxicating, a sweet, syrupy quagmire he was willing to drown in.
Then, as his pulse roared in his ears, Xie Jingci’s voice curled through the air like a spark, searing his already flushed ears until they burned.
Her fingertip traced lightly over his throat—a faint sting, but mostly a maddening itch.
She met his gaze, her voice laced with laughter, the words dipping into a whisper so soft it was almost inaudible:
"My lord, is Jingci not... far sweeter than any pastry?"
That whisper slithered straight into his heart.
His chest trembled like a falling leaf, each beat carrying an unbearable flutter, as if it might burst open at any moment and lay bare every hidden emotion he had kept buried for years.
Pei Du could only stare at her, stunned.
His throat moved reflexively, his entire body burning with a heat he had never known before, leaving him speechless, motionless.
He couldn’t even lift a hand to hide the furious blush spreading across his face.
[Ohoho.]
The system watched with glee. [Look at that, he’s blushing!]
Xie Jingci scoffed internally.
After that absurd performance, Pei Du—always so composed and restrained—must think she’d lost her mind.
Some people were alive, but already dead.
Right now, she was nothing more than a monument to eternal embarrassment in the cultivation world.
After a pause, the system’s voice dripped with amusement: [The young master’s so easy to fluster—but why are you blushing too? What kind of seductress gets shy?]
Xie Jingci gritted her teeth, ignoring the inexplicable heat creeping up her ears, and hissed back, "Shut up."
Blushing? Over Pei Du?
Never in her life would she let such a thing happen!
