Chapter 186 Chu Yuyao

As undercurrents began to surge in the outside world, and rumors about "three types of power," a "mysterious person," and the "emergence of the Demonic Path" quietly spread among some Cultivators, the temperature inside the cave climbed sharply, filled with a faint, alluring fragrance.

"Mmm..." An indescribable, soft moan escaped from Yun Qingyao's tightly bitten lips. The sound was so soft and alluring that even she felt her ears burning upon hearing it, feeling so ashamed that she wished she could disappear instantly.

Mu Changge's lips were still pressed against her slightly reddened ear, his scorching breath spraying over her and bringing waves of heat. His hand, clasped at her waist, had already skillfully unfastened a knot of her clothing at some unknown moment.

"Senior... Sister..." Mu Changge's voice was even huskier, carrying the weak, breathy tone of someone severely injured, yet strangely mixed with a suppressed, unusual sensation. He seemed to finally be unable to support the weight of his body, and his entire frame collapsed directly onto Yun Qingyao.

Yun Qingyao was already weak-kneed, and under his pressure, she stumbled and involuntarily fell backward. The two were pressed tightly together; behind her was the cold, hard cave wall, and before her was Mu Changge's heavy body. Yun Qingyao was confined in the narrow space, with nowhere to retreat.

"Junior... Brother Mu, don't... do this..." Her voice was as faint as a mosquito's hum, carrying a weakness she could not ignore.

Mu Changge lifted his head slightly. In the dim light, his face was inches away. Those deep eyes no longer hid anything, surging like a dark sea. Inside them were complex emotions she couldn't understand—pain, relief, confusion, and a scorching heat that made her heart race, almost as if it were burning. (Mu Changge pretended to be unable to suppress his feelings, influenced by the flower.)

This contradictory appearance, a mix of fragility and dominance, paired with his impeccable, handsome face, was undoubtedly a lethal poison to Yun Qingyao, whose reason was currently malfunctioning.

"Senior Sister... I'm in so much pain..." Mu Changge murmured, his sword-like brows furrowed as if he were enduring immense suffering, yet his gaze remained locked onto her, tracing her brows, eyes, and nose bridge inch by inch, finally settling on those cherry lips that were slightly parting to exhale.

Yun Qingyao's heart pounded like a deer, and her breathing was completely chaotic. She saw the man before her swallow, his Adam's apple bobbing as he slowly lowered his head toward her, his destination clear—it was her lips.

Her reason was screaming of danger, but her body was uncontrollably anticipating something. The ubiquitous sweet fragrance seemed to have turned into tangible threads, wrapping around every part of her, pushing her toward that scorching source.

Their breathing grew closer and closer, so close that they could feel the steam rising from each other's lips.

Yun Qingyao's long eyelashes trembled violently, and she slowly closed her eyes; those quivering lashes were like butterfly wings on the verge of shattering. It was tacit consent, a surrender of resistance, and even more so, an instinct when emotions took over.

...

Meanwhile, on the other side of the Secret Realm, there was an ice lake shrouded in cold mist. This place was completely different from the warm flower valley where Mu Changge and Yun Qingyao were; it was a quiet lake surrounded by ten-thousand-year-old ice (similar to the location where Mu Changge first entered the Secret Realm).

The lake water was not clear to the bottom but glowed with a dreamy ice-blue color. The surface was filled with faint white cold mist, wisps of which lingered persistently. On the lake shore grew glowing ice-crystal jade trees, illuminating the place like a fairyland in a moon palace.

At this moment, in the center of the lake, where the cold mist was thickest, the sounds of warbling birds and chatter could be vaguely heard. Several young women, dressed in thin, gauzy robes with slender figures, were bathing and playing in the lake. Their skin was whiter than snow, and water droplets slid down their exquisite collarbones, disappearing into the faintly visible cleavage. Their laughter echoed across the vast ice lake, dispelling some of the surrounding chill.

These women wore uniforms with a consistent style, their gauzy robes embroidered with lotus and flowing cloud patterns—they were Disciples of the Yaochi Holy Land. (They were all core Disciples of Yaochi, quite outstanding ones.)

In the center of the lake, surrounded by the women, where the cold mist was thickest, a graceful figure lay quietly in the lake water, revealing only her beautifully lined shoulders, neck, and a small patch of her jade-like back. Her body was shrouded in a hazy white halo, like the warm luster emitted by the finest mutton-fat jade, or perhaps concentrated moonlight, half-concealing her stunning figure behind the mist; it was not clearly visible, but it added endless room for imagination.

Only when she occasionally lifted her arms to splash water did a fleeting glimpse of her fair wrists and slender jade fingers appear, along with the faint, breathtakingly curved silhouette occasionally surfacing in the water, and a pair of long, straight jade feet that looked even whiter and more translucent in the ice-blue water, enough to make anyone who saw them feel their heart flutter and their blood boil.

She was none other than the current Saintess of the Yaochi Holy Land—Chu Yuyao.

She did not pay attention to the laughter and playfulness of the others around her; like a flower on a high ridge, she just quietly closed her eyes, enjoying the coolness and tranquility of the ice lake water cleansing her body and mind. Suddenly, her long, dense eyelashes trembled imperceptibly.

Almost at the same time, above a patch of ice-crystal bushes not far from the lake shore, the space twisted violently without warning, emitting a teeth-grinding tearing sound! "Riiip—!"

A silver-glinting spatial rift suddenly appeared, and immediately after, a disheveled figure was violently "spit" out from it, falling straight toward the ice below like a broken sack! "Bang!"

The dull thud of a heavy object hitting the ground broke the tranquility of the lakeside. The figure rolled several times on the smooth ice before barely coming to a stop, the ice beneath him stained with a glaring splash of bright red.

The laughter of the women nearby stopped abruptly. All the Yaochi female Disciples bathing around fell silent instantly, looking toward the source of the sound with suspicion and uncertainty, and then their faces flushed with redness and shame—they were nearly unclothed at this moment!

Chu Yuyao in the center of the lake slowly opened her eyes. They were a pair of extremely moving, autumn-water-bright eyes, but at this moment, they were calm and waveless, only glancing indifferently in the direction of the fallen figure. She lifted her jade arm slightly, bringing up a splash of water, and the hazy halo around her seemed to intensify, completely isolating any possible external prying eyes.

"Go and see." Her voice came through the mist, cold and clear like the striking of ice jade, with no emotion detectable.

"Yes, Saintess!" Several female Disciples with quick reactions and higher cultivation levels by the lakeside responded immediately. Although they were ashamed and angry, the Saintess's order was unquestionable, and it was a good Opportunity to see who that lecher was. With a wave of their fair hands, robes floated out from their storage rings, and they were instantly dressed. Although it was a bit rushed, they regained the dignified demeanor of Yaochi Disciples. The women looked at each other, suppressed the suspicion in their hearts, gripped their sword hilts, and cautiously surrounded the person who had fallen.

On the ice, Jian Wushuang lay prone, in excruciating pain all over, especially the bone-deep pain of his severed right arm, which almost made him faint. What was even more heart-wrenching was that the "soul suppressing tower," which had always been connected to his mind and regarded as his greatest reliance, had completely lost its connection! Not only that, the spiritual power in his body was in complete chaos, his Meridians were damaged in many places, and the forced activation of that life-saving jade butterfly had caused him even more injury, almost causing his Realm to drop.

"Mu! Chang! Ge!" Jian Wushuang roared madly in his heart, his eyes filled with resentment and unwillingness.

He lay there on the cold ice, the severe pain from his right shoulder almost making him faint, his internal spiritual power in chaos, and his Meridians aching with a burning sensation. However, the physical pain was far less intense than the resentment and humiliation churning in his heart. He had never suffered such a great loss! No, it was an unprecedented, miserable defeat!

Not long ago, he hadn't even truly placed Mu Changge, this "second-generation heir" and "Trash," on the same level as himself. Even if the other party had displayed some unexpected means and talent, he had only regarded it as some petty cleverness that couldn't be brought to the table, or something relied upon external objects bestowed by elders. But today's battle had completely torn apart all his contempt and arrogance, smashing the bloody reality into his face.

'This person... this person is definitely not a creature of the pond!' Jian Wushuang's mind uncontrollably replayed every fragment of the fight. Mu Changge's calmness, that almost cruel calmness, was definitely not something a pampered playboy could possess; it was a Heart-Nature tempered in life-and-death struggles and forged in mountains of corpses and seas of blood.

And that decisiveness and ruthlessness! Seizing the Opportunity of a flaw like a viper striking from its hole, without mercy. How was this a second-generation heir? He was clearly an Asura crawling out of Hell! Not to mention his endless, bizarre, and unpredictable means. He wielded both Righteous Path and Demonic Path Cultivation Techniques with ease, switching between them freely... How many more trump cards was he hiding?

Thinking of Mu Changge's completely unreasonable strength, Jian Wushuang felt a suffocating despair. A Nascent Soul killing a Soul Transformation, a Prodigy killing an ordinary Cultivator, while rare, was not unheard of. But Mu Changge, with merely Nascent Soul cultivation, had stood firm against him, a Soul Transformation Saint who bore great Luck and was highly regarded by the Sect, not only not falling into a disadvantage but also, after he had used his trump card, cutting off his arm! This was no longer a simple cross-level challenge; this was subverting cognition, this was Heaven-Defying! He was a Prodigy capable of cross-level challenges up to the Peak of Soul Transformation! Before him, he actually seemed so powerless...

"If it were a battle at the same Realm... I would definitely not be his opponent..." This thought made his proud heart bleed. He had to admit that even putting aside that final, bizarre strike, Mu Changge's true combat power was terrifyingly heinous. Fighting beyond one's Realm and winning, and the opponent was a Prodigy like himself... this was simply perverted! How could there be such a Prodigy in this world?

And what made him hate to the point of madness, almost vomiting blood, was that woman who had stood quietly by the side at the beginning, as cold and peerless as a Fairy from the moon palace, that flawless face, that ethereal and otherworldly temperament... Every time he recalled it, his eyes became infatuated. Such a brilliant and perfect woman should have been matched only by a child of destiny like himself!

But what about her? She was actually obedient to Mu Changge—when that woman looked at Mu Changge, she would unconsciously reveal worry, trust, and even... reliance! When they appeared, Mu Changge's hand was openly wrapped around that slender waist that could not be held in one hand! The two were intimate in posture, and their relationship was clearly unusual! Thinking that she, who was like a Fairy, had probably already been submissively pleasing Mu Changge under him, having tried who knows how many shameful positions, and being completely conquered by him, Jian Wushuang felt his internal organs burning, jealousy and hatred constantly eroding his reason.

He replayed in his mind over and over again every bit of detail since he entered the Sect, the Saintess's change in attitude toward him, the Sect's kindly gaze toward him...

"Mine! Those were supposed to be my Opportunities! My women! My soul suppressing tower! My arm!" He roared crazily in his heart, his remaining left hand digging fiercely into the ice, leaving deep claw marks. The pain of his severed arm, the hatred of losing the tower, the vendetta of having his "beauties" stolen, and that humiliation of being utterly defeated and trampled underfoot... all of this made the three words "Mu Changge" the deepest nightmare and most bone-deep enemy in his heart.

"No! I cannot just admit defeat like this! I am Jian Wushuang, the child of destiny favored by Luck! What is one failure? The hatred of my severed arm must be repaid in blood! The soul suppressing tower, I will definitely take it back! And that mysterious woman, Mu Wanning, Yun Qingyao... just wait. When I recover, when I obtain even greater Opportunities, when I trample him under my feet, I will, right in front of his face, take those women of his..."

Mad thoughts swirled in his mind, mixed with intense pain, resentment, and burning desire. He knew that from this moment on, it was a life-and-death feud between him and Mu Changge. And he, Jian Wushuang, would stop at nothing to pay back everything he suffered today a hundredfold!

Just then, the slightly twisted-faced Jian Wushuang keenly perceived several auras approaching rapidly. His heart tightened, then he forced himself to endure the excruciating pain and released a weak Divine Sense to investigate.

Upon this investigation, he was first stunned, then a flash of undisguised heat and greed crossed his eyes.

He saw several women dressed in uniform gauze skirts, with beautiful faces and graceful figures, walking towards him with swords in hand. Although these women had put on their clothes, they were inevitably a bit disheveled in their haste, and because they had just come out of the water, the gauze was slightly soaked, clinging faintly to their bodies and outlining alluring curves. Further away in the lake, the stunning figure looming in the hazy mist, though not clearly visible, with glimpses of jade feet and white wrists, and a silhouette shrouded in a holy halo that only further stimulated one's desire to explore, all bombarded Jian Wushuang's senses.

As the Saint of the Wandao Sword Sect, he had naturally seen many beautiful female Cultivators. The Saintess within his Sect who claimed to prioritize Cultivation above all, or even the peerlessly beautiful Mu Wanning whom he had only met a few times, were all dragons and phoenixes among people, stunning beauties, each with their own unique temperament, hard to distinguish who was superior. But this scene before him was completely different—now, in his severely wounded, disheveled state and with his mind in turmoil, suddenly catching a glimpse of this shimmering lake, skin hidden by mist, half-covered and half-revealed, an extreme spectacle where holiness and temptation intertwined, especially the curves and jade feet and white wrists looming behind the hazy halo, the visual and psychological impact was far beyond what could be compared to admiring from afar on ordinary days. A surge of evil fire, mixed with the feeling of surviving a disaster, unwillingness, resentment, and the most primitive desire, suddenly shot up from his lower abdomen.

But after all, he was not an ordinary Cultivator. As a Child of Fortune, he had to properly decorate his appearance (at least superficially). He knew his state was extremely poor right now and he must not expose any evil thoughts in front of others. Almost instantly, he forcibly suppressed the heat in his eyes and put on an expression of weakness, pain, and a hint of vigilance and wariness. He struggled to prop up his body with his remaining left hand, quickly took out two Medicinal Pills from his storage ring and swallowed them, then took out a spare robe and draped it over himself, barely covering the tattered clothes and bloodstains. Although the severed arm area remained gruesome and the robe could not hide that disheveled state.

Jian Wushuang tried to stand up to maintain his demeanor, but the severe pain from his severed arm and the internal injuries made him sway. He could only lean against a piece of ice rock nearby, his face pale as paper, cold sweat seeping from his forehead, yet he still tried his best to straighten his back, attempting to strike that gentle-as-jade, refined gentleman pose from the past. Only, coupled with his current miserable state, this forced posture inevitably appeared somewhat comical and weak.

Soon, those few Yaochi female Disciples arrived nearby. After seeing Jian Wushuang's appearance, a flash of surprise and a trace of imperceptible disdain crossed their eyes. They saw that this person, although barely draped in a robe, had his clothes damaged in many places, stained with blood and dust, his face deathly pale, his aura withered. The most shocking thing was that his right arm was severed at the shoulder; although he had temporarily sealed the wound with spiritual power, it still retained a strange aura, looking incredibly miserable. Yet, this person was still trying to act composed, and there seemed to be something else hidden deep in his eyes, which made them instinctively feel dislike.

"Who are you? We discovered this place first, please leave immediately!" A leading female Disciple asked coldly. Although her long sword was not unsheathed, her aura had already locked onto Jian Wushuang.

Jian Wushuang coughed up a mouthful of stagnant blood, squeezed out a weak, what he considered dashing smile, and cupped his hands, saying: "I am... cough cough... Saint of the Wandao Sword Sect—Jian Wushuang. I was harmed by a villain and fled here heavily wounded; it is truly helpless! I ask that you... Fairies... cough cough... please make it convenient for me." His voice was hoarse, and speaking aggravated his injuries, causing him to cough a few more times, making him appear even more miserable and pitiful, attempting to arouse the sympathy of these female Cultivators.

The few Yaochi female Disciples exchanged glances. Saint of the Wandao Sword Sect, Jian Wushuang? They had naturally heard of his name. It was said that he was exceptionally talented and had a decent reputation, being a leader of the younger generation of the Righteous Path. But this person before them... was too far from the rumored image of the open and upright Saint, mainly because his Yin Qi had surged greatly after he practiced that magical Cultivation Technique. Moreover, the injuries on his body... the residual aura made them feel vaguely uncomfortable.

"Bring him over." Chu Yuyao's cold voice came again from the mist in the center of the lake.

"Yes." The few female Disciples did not ask further and signaled for him to follow.

Jian Wushuang was secretly delighted. He forced himself to catch his breath, tried hard to maintain his composure, and followed behind the female Disciples towards the lakeshore. However, his gaze could not help but glance again at the hazy, alluring figure in the center of the lake, with greed and evil thoughts flashing in his eyes. He calculated quickly in his heart: The Yaochi Holy Land and the Wandao Sword Sect had always been on good terms, even having some friendship. His current miserable state was perfect for gaining sympathy. More importantly, he could reveal the "crimes" of that brat Mu Changge practicing Demonic Techniques and harming his fellow Disciples! As long as the news spread, that brat would surely become a target of public criticism and would be unable to move an inch in this Secret Realm! By then, not only could he take revenge, perhaps he could even...

Thinking of this, a flush of abnormal redness even appeared on his pale face due to excitement.

Soon, he was brought to the edge of the lake. In the center of the lake, Chu Yuyao was still soaking in the water, with only her shoulders and above exposed. The hazy halo made her face blurry, but those cold, clear eyes seemed to be able to see through people's hearts, resting quietly on Jian Wushuang across the mist and distance.

Jian Wushuang hurriedly reined in all unusual thoughts, cupped his hands again, and said in an even weaker and more indignant tone: "I am the Saint of the Wandao Sword Sect, Jian Wushuang, greetings to the Holy Maiden of Yaochi! I have encountered a great disaster this time and am in such a disheveled state; disturbing the Holy Maiden's cultivation is truly a sin." He lowered his posture significantly, placing himself in the position of a victim.

Chu Yuyao did not speak, just watched quietly. Her gaze lingered on his severed arm wound for a moment, then swept over his whole body. The Saintess's gaze was very cold, but it gave Jian Wushuang the illusion of being completely seen through, causing his heart to shudder involuntarily.

"Your arm," Chu Yuyao finally spoke, her voice still cold, "who injured it? And for what reason?"

Upon hearing this, Jian Wushuang immediately showed an expression filled with indignation and heartbreaking grief, gritting his teeth as he said: "I dare not hide it! The person who injured me is my fellow Junior Brother, Mu Changge!"

"Oh?" Chu Yuyao's tone rose slightly, as if she had a glimmer of interest.

Seeing the other party react, Jian Wushuang was secretly delighted and continued to add fuel to the fire, saying sorrowfully: "I was originally exploring the Secret Realm with Junior Brother Mu, but who would have expected his wolf-like ambition? He had long secretly defected to the Demonic Path and practiced a strange and vicious Demonic Technique! I accidentally discovered his secret, and he suddenly attacked me! Remembering our camaraderie as fellow Disciples, I did not go all out at first, only wanting to capture him and bring him back to the Sect for punishment. Unexpectedly, his Demonic Technique was strange and ruthless, and he had the help of a Demonic Path treasure. I... I was caught off guard for a moment and was actually ambushed and heavily wounded by him, losing an arm, and even the Magic Treasure bestowed by my Revered Master was taken by him! If I hadn't used my life-saving trump card at the last moment, I fear I would have already fallen victim to his evil hands!"

He spoke with great emotion, portraying himself as a tragic character who cared about his fellow Disciple only to be ambushed, while Mu Changge was a despicable scoundrel who was insidious, practiced Demonic Techniques, and harmed his fellow Disciples. As he spoke, he secretly observed Chu Yuyao's reaction, sneering in his heart: Mu Changge, oh Mu Changge, no matter how cunning you are like a ghost, as long as I spread the news that you are practicing Demonic Techniques, there will be no place for you in this Secret Realm! When the time comes for all sides to besiege you, let's see how you can survive!

However, after Chu Yuyao finished listening to his "accusation," her stunning face was obscured by the mist, and her expression could not be seen. Only those cold eyes flickered slightly. Her gaze fell again on the wound where his arm was severed. Besides the sword wound, there was a trace of ethereal, spiritual energy lingering there, but what caused the most emotional fluctuation in her was a faint, un-faded trace of Devilish Qi on the upper part of his chest.

As the Holy Maiden of Yaochi, she was widely knowledgeable and could naturally distinguish that this was by no means an aura that an ordinary Demonic Path Cultivator could leave behind. This aura... ancient, domineering, destructive, carrying a deterrence originating from the level of the Soul, it was more like... the traces of some top-tier Demon Race Cultivation Technique from legend.

Moreover, this Jian Wushuang before her, although performing with true-to-life sincerity, how could the greed and resentment that flashed deep in his eyes, and the covetousness towards the bodies of the women in the lake (especially towards her, the Saintess) that he tried so hard to hide but still existed, completely escape her perception?

A self-proclaimed Righteous Path Saint who was ambushed by a fellow Disciple of the Demonic Path, bearing wounds suspected to be caused by a top-tier Demon Race Cultivation Technique, yet harboring lecherous thoughts towards Yaochi female Disciples...

Chu Yuyao's cherry lips, moistened by the water vapor, curled slightly, almost imperceptibly, into an extremely faint arc of amusement behind the hazy mist.

Interesting.

It seems that in this Secret Realm, besides Heaven And Earth Treasures, some more interesting things are happening. Wandao Sword Sect... Mu Changge, is it?

She did not immediately respond to Jian Wushuang's "accusation," nor did she express sympathy or anger, but just used those eyes that seemed to be able to see through everything to gaze quietly and with a hint of deep meaning at this disheveled, shifty-eyed "Righteous Path Saint" before her.

The cold mist of the ice lake curled, shrouding both her figure and her thoughts, appearing increasingly mysterious and unfathomable.