85: An accident during sword practice

Mo Yuhan's body stiffened slightly.

He could clearly feel the warmth of Xiao Yu's palm, the slight roughness from the calluses on her fingertips, and her steady, powerful grip.

This was not the accidental intimacy created by Lin Fei last night, but a pure, guiding support.

However, the warmth of the skin-to-skin contact, and the refreshing yet powerful scent of Xiao Yu so close, still made Mo Yuhan's heart skip a beat uncontrollably.

He tilted his head slightly, able to see the graceful curve of Xiao Yu's jawline and her focused, serene profile.

The sunlight outlined her long eyelashes and high nose bridge, the blend of heroism and concentration creating a unique charm.

"Come, I'll teach you a basic power generation technique that's helpful for any close-quarters Dou Skills."

Xiao Yu became interested, leaning slightly forward and gesturing for Mo Yuhan to extend his hand.

"Your wrist should be like this; feel the Dou Qi surge from your Dantian, flow along the meridians in your arm, concentrate at one point, and explode instantly…"

As she explained, she naturally reached out to grasp Mo Yuhan's wrist, personally demonstrating the subtle angle of force and the path of Dou Qi circulation.

"Relax."

Xiao Yu's voice resonated above him, low and with a strange calming power; her palm gently pressed, guiding Mo Yuhan's arm posture, "Shoulders down, arms naturally extended, wrists steady, like this…"

As she explained, she used her hand, which was covering Mo Yuhan's, to guide him in an extremely slow, meticulous repetition of the basic stabbing motion.

Her movements were incredibly patient; every subtle angle adjustment was accompanied by a clear explanation.

Her body leaned slightly forward as she guided him, her ample chest almost pressing against Mo Yuhan's back.

The refreshing scent, a mix of sunlight, grass, and a faint hint of sweat, enveloped Mo Yuhan more intensely.

He could clearly feel the warmth and soft pressure through his clothes on his back, as well as the subtle sensation of Xiao Yu's warm breath lightly brushing the hair on his head as she spoke.

This all-encompassing "embrace" of body heat and scent was different from Xue Mei's cold guardianship, Lin Fei's passionate embrace, or Xue Ni's fiery aggression.

It carried a weighty sense of responsibility and a reassuring guiding power, which, after his initial tension, strangely calmed Mo Yuhan's mind.

He no longer entertained distracting thoughts, concentrating instead on feeling the guided trajectory of his arm, the faint resistance of the sword tip cutting through the air, and the mountain-like steady power transmitted from Xiao Yu's palm.

A wonderful sense of resonance, as if through this cold sword and the warmth covering his hand, quietly formed between him and Xiao Yu.

One, two, three…

Under Xiao Yu's guidance, Mo Yuhan slowly but earnestly repeated the basic movement, sweat gradually beading on his smooth forehead.

After an unknown amount of time, Xiao Yu felt that Mo Yuhan's arm was no longer stiff and had begun to develop its own rhythm; only then did she slowly, very gently, release her hand from his.

"Very good."

Xiao Yu stepped back, her eyes filled with undisguised admiration, "Remember this feeling. A sword is a companion, an extension of your will, not merely a tool for killing. Its power comes from the heart of the wielder."

She looked at Mo Yuhan, who was still intently holding the sword, his small face covered in sweat but his eyes shining brightly. The awkwardness caused by Xue Ni had long vanished, replaced by the joy of discovering unpolished jade and an… indescribable sense of closeness.

This nine-year-old child possessed a maturity and understanding far beyond his age, making her instinctively want to guide and protect him.

"Thank you, Senior Sister Xiao Yu!"

Mo Yuhan finally stopped, his small face flushed with a healthy glow from concentration and exertion. He looked up at Xiao Yu, his clear eyes filled with sincere gratitude and the excitement of finding a new direction, "I feel… the sword… it seems… really different now. It… it seems to have a life of its own!"

Seeing the pure joy in Mo Yuhan's eyes and his nascent yearning for the way of the sword, Xiao Yu's heroic face blossomed into a heartfelt, radiant, and warm smile, like the warm sun after the first thaw, instantly dispelling all distance from her.

She reached out, and this time, it was not to guide, but with the familiarity of an elder sister, gently ruffling Mo Yuhan's soft, sweat-dampened black hair.

Xiao Yu seemed to find his appearance as a junior disciple particularly amusing, increasing the force of her ruffling a bit.

She was about half a head taller than Mo Yuhan; at this moment, she was almost half-bent over, her falling hair carrying a crisp, faint fragrance that subtly brushed his cheek and neck, the scent like freshly broken willow branches in early spring, a little astringent yet strangely alluring.

"That's because you felt it with your heart, Junior Brother Yu Han."

Just as she leaned close, her slender, fair fingers ruffling Mo Yuhan's hair—

The soil beneath her feet seemed to have become soft from prolonged standing, and Xiao Yu swayed violently without warning.

"Ugh!"

Xiao Yu was caught off guard, her body lunging forward under inertia. To steady herself, she instinctively braced one hand on Mo Yuhan's body.

Her other hand, which had been ruffling his hair, due to her body's tilt, her elbow brushed Mo Yuhan's upturned small face and the top of his head squarely, with a weighty, soft sensation.

"Ah—!"

Xiao Yu's short gasp had not fully escaped her lips when her body completely lost balance. The hand ruffling Mo Yuhan's hair instinctively tightened, like a drowning person frantically grasping a piece of driftwood.

Mo Yuhan felt a great force from above his head, and his entire body was instantly pulled down violently by that uncontrolled momentum.

The sensation was full and astonishingly elastic, carrying warm body heat and the rich, unique fragrance of a mature woman, like the finest silk wrapping warm jade; the momentary contact was so delicate it made his heart tremble.

Time seemed to freeze for a ten-thousandth of a second at this moment.

Mo Yuhan only felt an indescribable, strange yet soft pressure on the top of his head, and his nostrils were instantly filled with a scent mixed with sunlight, sweat, and a faint, orchid-like fragrance.

His vision spun, and he heard the rustling of vine branches and leaves being violently rubbed and torn, along with Xiao Yu's startled, hurried breaths close by.

The two bodies pressed tightly together in weightlessness, tumbling down onto the thick, carpet-like mossy ground below.

The World rapidly shrank in the chaotic tumble, leaving only the dull thuds of colliding bodies, the rustle of rubbing clothes, and their own uncontrollable, short gasps.

The rich scent of crushed earth and moss, mixed with the crisp, faint fragrance of Xiao Yu, surged into Mo Yuhan's nostrils,Dominantly occupied all his senses.

The chaos finally ceased.

Mo Yuhan lay supine on the thick, soft, damp moss, his back soaked with a cool sensation.

His vision blurred, and it took a while for it to refocus.

First to catch his eye were the drooping, slightly trembling shrub flowers above, sunlight piercing through the gaps in the petals and leaves, making him squint.

Next, his vision was filled with a dazzling sight.

It was Xiao Yu's dress.

Now it was no longer neat, spread out in disarray like crumpled twilight.

Part of it pressed against his robes, while another part was entangled with the dark green moss beneath them; red and green, blue and purple, colors intensely and chaotically intertwined, like some wildly growing vine.

A few scattered petals clung to her skirt and hair, giving her a somewhat disheveled yet alluring appearance.

A stronger sense of presence came from the weight and feel on his leg.

One of Xiao Yu's legs, excessively long, was now pressing diagonally against his waist in a completely uncontrolled posture.

The sensation was so vivid—through their not-too-thick clothing, he clearly felt the balanced and firm lines of her leg, imbued with the flexibility and strength gained from years of leg training.

An unusually clear warmth permeated through the fabric, continuously pressing against his skin. The heat seemed to have a will of its own, burning along his bloodstream, directly to his heart, almost setting him alight.

All the blood in his body seemed to rush to the spot tightly pressed by that warmth, then instantly flowed back to his heart the next second, pounding like a drum.