258: Night Valley

The night was like thick ink slowly spreading, swallowing the silhouette of the circular valley bit by bit. Yet this world wrapped in night had not a trace of peace.

In the valley, scattered camps lit up one after another with spiritual lamps. Warm yellow, crystalline white, and pale blue spots of light intertwined, like overturned stars scattered across the mortal world, reflecting off the vines on the rock walls until they shimmered.

In the distance, the crack in the Immortal Cave's Restriction that spanned across the mountain wall occasionally burst with an eerie blue-purple glow, dyeing half the sky in a sinister and unpredictable way, making even the flowing clouds look as if they were branded with something demonic.

Outside the valley, sporadic curses drifted in on the night wind, mixed with the booming sounds of Spell collisions, sometimes sharp, sometimes dull, reminding everyone of the danger here.

Situ Jun's camp was located in a relatively flat area at the edge of the valley.

Inside the central main tent, four glazed lamps hung from the ceiling, illuminating the interior as bright as day. The candle flames flickered slightly in the air currents, casting the shadows of the two people inside onto the canvas, stretching and shortening, brightening and dimming.

Hua Hanxiang sat on a wooden stool to one side, her gaze falling on Situ Jun.

He was leaning over, staring at a map spread out on the table, his fingertips repeatedly rubbing the location marked "Daoist Ming Ya's Immortal Cave." His brows were slightly furrowed, and even the lines of his jaw were taut.

The worry in her heart grew a bit more—he appeared calm on the surface, his movements as his fingers traced the map were steady, but the rhythm of his unconscious tapping on the tabletop just now had betrayed his state of mind:

That hurried and chaotic light tapping hid his wariness of Nascent Soul Cultivators and even more so his hidden concerns about the chaotic battle of three thousand Cultivators.

Hua Hanxiang rose quietly, her footsteps light.

She walked to the four corners of the tent, her fingertips condensing pale purple spiritual power. That spiritual power was as thin as silk, lightly tapping on the hidden patterns on the inner side of the tent fabric.

As the spiritual power was injected, a very faint glow appeared on the surface of the tent fabric, enveloping the surroundings like a thin mist, even softening the light and shadows of the candle flames.

This was the "Silence Formation" she had learned from the Poison Scorpion Cult's secret scriptures. Although it had no defensive power, it could completely isolate internal and external sounds, even shielding against the spiritual power probes of high-level Cultivators.

After confirming the Formation was secure, Hua Hanxiang let out a light sigh of relief. When she turned to look at Situ Jun, the worry in her eyes had transformed into a gentle warmth.

"Husband, you've been staring at the map for half an hour. Take a rest first."

She called out softly, her voice softer than usual, the end of her words carrying an imperceptible trace of charm, like a feather lightly brushing against the heart.

Situ Jun looked back at the sound, and when his gaze fell on her, it instantly softened.

The warm light of the candles spilled over her, dyeing her lake-blue dress with a gentle luster. She wore no makeup in her hair, and a few stray strands hung by her cheeks, yet she was more moving than any exquisite makeup.

The movement of his fingertips paused, the sharpness in his eyes quietly fading, leaving only an unmaskable fatigue:

"It's fine. Planning one step more means one more chance of winning."

"But if you collapse from exhaustion, even the best planning will be useless."

Hua Hanxiang's voice was as soft as if it had been soaked in warm water. After a pause, she walked slowly to his side, her slender fingers lightly resting on his tense shoulders, applying slight pressure as she massaged his stiff muscles:

"I know you have many worries, but it's already night. Why not put those troublesome matters aside for now?"

Situ Jun felt a warmth in his heart and reached out to pull her into his arms.

Hua Hanxiang took the opportunity to sit on his lap, her arms naturally circling his neck. As her nose drew close, she could smell the faint scent of ink and spiritual power on him.

Situ Jun's palm pressed against her waist and abdomen, clearly feeling her slender waistline and the warmth coming from beneath her, a temperature that dispelled some of the chill brought on by his worries.

"Still thinking about the refugees?"

Hua Hanxiang raised her hand, her fingertips lightly stroking the creases between his brows, her tone filled with heartache.

Situ Jun shook his head, his chin resting on the crown of her head, his voice deep and raspy:

"No, I'm thinking about the Nascent Soul Cultivators. If someone at the Late Nascent Soul Stage really comes to fight for the treasures in Daoist Ming Ya's Immortal Cave, we... might find it hard to seize them."

Hua Hanxiang was silent for a moment, and some worry also rose in her heart, but seeing his exhausted appearance, she didn't want to add to his troubles.

She suddenly looked up, her lips lightly brushing past his jaw. The touch was soft and warm, like a feather brushing against the heart.

Situ Jun was momentarily stunned and looked up at her.

He saw a watery glint in her eyes and a faint blush on her cheeks. Her voice carried a hint of shyness, yet was exceptionally firm:

"Husband, I know I can't help you much, but I remember you saying that our Dual Cultivation can complement each other's spiritual power, and can also calm your mind and improve your Cultivation..."

Her voice grew smaller and smaller, the last few words almost inaudible, but her fingers tightly gripped his lapel, as if afraid he would refuse.

Situ Jun's eyes flickered. Seeing the undisguised concern and affection in her eyes, the last bit of tension in his heart vanished into thin air.

He raised his hand to stroke her cheek, his thumb lightly brushing the corner of her mouth, his voice deep and gentle:

"Alright."

As soon as he finished speaking, he leaned down and kissed her.

The moment their lips touched, both couldn't help but tremble slightly—since setting out from East Lin City, they had been constantly on the move. Although they had been intimate, every time felt different.

This kiss carried his usual steadiness, yet also hid a bit of suppressed urgency. His tongue lightly pried open her teeth, intertwining with hers, as if trying to melt all his worries and anxieties into this tenderness.

Hua Hanxiang closed her eyes, her arms circling his neck, her body gradually softening in his embrace, allowing him to lead her into the depths.

The candle flames flickered even more violently, and the temperature in the tent gradually rose, even their breathing becoming warm.

Situ Jun picked her up horizontally and walked with gentle steps to the low couch covered with a brocade quilt, lightly laying her down. The brocade quilt was soft and thick, with a faint warmth. Hua Hanxiang lay on it, watching him lean in close, her heart beating like a drum, even the tips of her ears turning red.

Situ Jun's fingertips lightly untied the sash of her dress. The lake-blue dress slid down her shoulders, revealing her crystalline white skin, which glowed faintly under the candlelight like fine mutton-fat jade.

The moment their skin touched, a warm golden spiritual power slowly surged from within Situ Jun's body, following the point of contact to flow gently into Hua Hanxiang's Meridians.

Hua Hanxiang closed her eyes and operated the Poison Scorpion Cult's Mind-Cultivation Technique, slowly drawing out the blue-purple spiritual power within her body.

Her spiritual power carried a hint of coolness, meeting Situ Jun's mellow golden spiritual power in the Meridians. There was no conflict; instead, like streams flowing into a river, they gradually merged.

The golden spiritual power was mild and mellow, like the warm spring sun, nourishing her slightly cold Meridians—a result of practicing poison arts—bit by bit.

The blue-purple spiritual power carried a hint of gentleness, like a clear spring, slowly washing away the accumulated spiritual power Impurities in Situ Jun's body.

The breathing of the two gradually became synchronized. As their chests rose and fell, spiritual power circulated between their bodies.