Chapter Six: The Market

The mountain path of Qingya Peak winds its way down, the bluestone steps polished smooth as a mirror by time. The bamboo groves on both sides rustle in the morning breeze, and occasionally a bamboo leaf or two swirls down onto the stone steps, only to be swept up by the wind and drift into the depths of the valley. The early spring sun is not fierce, but warmly shines on you, mingled with the crisp scent of mountain grass and trees, making you feel relaxed and happy.

Lu Qinghan descended the mountain path slowly, her white robes as pure as snow, a long sword at her waist, her steps composed and elegant. Her skirt swayed gently with each step, like a white lotus unfurling in the wind. The journey from Qingya Peak to the sect market was not short; first, one had to descend the mountain, then cross a cable car spanning two peaks, and finally walk for about fifteen minutes along a path halfway up the main peak. Normally, Lu Qinghan would travel this route by sword, but today she didn't. Sword travel was too fast; she wanted to walk slower.

Shen Du was inside her, as still as a stone. But Lu Qinghan knew he wasn't asleep—she could tell from his heartbeat; it was fast and erratic, a stark contrast to her own steady rhythm. His breathing was also somewhat unsteady; although he tried to even out the rhythm of each inhale and exhale, occasionally a very slight, rapid urge would escape, as if something was holding him back. She knew what he was holding back. The feel of the silk undergarment, the flesh-colored stockings, and the images he saw through her eyes—the woman's exquisite curves in the mirror, the skin faintly visible beneath the thin gauze, the shimmering light of the semi-transparent silk stockings on her legs. All these sensory images swirled in his mind, yet he was trapped inside her, unable to move, unable even to turn his head away.

Not to mention that.

With each step she took, her hips swayed naturally. This was a natural gait determined by the structure of a woman's pelvis; any female cultivator would walk this way. Lu Qinghan had walked this way for hundreds of years, and no one had ever said anything wrong with her swaying hips. But for Shen Du, who was now embedded in her body, this natural hip swaying was nothing short of a prolonged torture. With each step she took, her pelvis would rotate slightly from side to side, and the organ firmly locked inside her vagina would grind against the inner walls of her passage with her movements. It wasn't a large-scale thrusting, but a slow, continuous, all-around squeezing and friction. Her soft flesh walls tightly enveloped him, the moist and warm folds clinging to every inch of his penis, rhythmically undulating with her steps. When her left foot landed, the muscles on the left side of her vagina would tighten slightly; when her right foot landed, the muscles on the right side would contract; and with each alternation of steps, the cervix would gently suck on his tip with the rise and fall of her body, as if a warm little mouth was constantly kissing him.

Shen Du had already ejaculated once during his morning practice. He was currently in the most sensitive period after release; the nerve endings on the surface of his glans were several times more sensitive than usual. Every friction, every squeeze, every envelopment was amplified into an almost unbearable stimulation. He clenched his teeth—more precisely, his jaw muscles contracted tensely inside his scrotum, and that tension was transmitted to Lu Qinghan's masseter muscles, causing her own teeth to clench slightly as well. Lu Qinghan felt his clenching and secretly smiled to herself.

"Shen Du," she said in her mind, her tone calm and natural.

"...Yes." Shen Du's voice was muffled, as if he was using great willpower to maintain the stability of his tone.

"Why aren't you saying anything?" Lu Qinghan asked knowingly, her steps remaining unhurried and her hips swaying naturally and gracefully. "You haven't said a word since you left the house."

Shen Du remained silent for a moment. He hadn't uttered a single word, not because he didn't want to, but because he dared not. He was afraid that if he opened his mouth, he would let out a sound he shouldn't—his genitals were hard and protruding into his master's vagina, and with each step his master took, that hardness would push forward an inch, the soft walls of the cervix would be pushed inward by the slightly upturned tip, and then bounce back with each step, like a sponge kissing a warm little mouth. This feeling was too intense, making it almost impossible for him to control his breathing, let alone speak. But he couldn't tell his master these things. His master had just survived the ordeal of the demonic sword, barely clinging to life, barely recovering her health; how could he say things that would upset her at this time? "Master, every step I take while I'm inside you is constantly rubbing against your vagina, can you please stop walking?" What would his master think of him if he said such a thing? He didn't want his master to think he was a filthy person.

"I...I was looking at the scenery," Shen Du managed to come up with an extremely lame excuse.

"Looking at the scenery?" Lu Qinghan's voice carried a hint of amusement. "You've been looking at the scenery through my eyes for twelve years, haven't you had enough?"

"The scenery of Qingya Peak," Shen Du said dryly, his tone like reciting a memorized text, "is different in each season, and each day and night has its own unique charm. You can never get tired of it."

Lu Qinghan almost burst out laughing. Her disciple, from a young age, would start reciting texts whenever he got nervous—he recited the *Introduction to Swordplay* at eight, the *Qi Cultivation Method* at ten, and the *Geography of Cangshan* at twelve. Now, at twenty, he was still the same. She knew him too well, understood every habit, every reaction, and the unspoken meaning behind every tone of his voice. She knew he was incredibly nervous right now, and she could vaguely guess what he was nervous about.

But she doesn't intend to expose it.

She took out a small jade token from her sleeve. It was a communication token, a standard magical artifact carried by every disciple of the Cangshan Sword Sect, allowing for one-on-one communication within a certain range. The jade token gleamed faintly in her palm, and she gently pressed her thumb against the inscription, assuming a posture as if she were communicating telepathically. This posture had two advantages: first, talking to herself on the street would make her seem crazy, but speaking with a communication token was perfectly normal; second, with the communication token as cover, her conversation with Shen Du was much more legitimate—after all, to onlookers, she was simply using a magical artifact to communicate.

“Shen Du,” she said through the token, her tone gentle and casual, as if chatting with her disciple, “have you felt any discomfort since you boarded the flying sword? The material of this spider silk undergarment and stockings is different from ordinary fabrics; it’s exceptionally smooth. Although you can barely feel its weight when you wear it, the tactile sensation of your skin against the fabric is very different from ordinary clothing. Now that you share the same senses with me, you should be able to feel this sensation as well. If you feel any friction or pressure, just say so; don’t hold back.”

As she spoke, the tip of her tongue lingered slightly longer on the words "different materials" and "delicate sensations," creating a subtle friction between her tongue and his with each syllable. Her lips also shifted slightly with each sound—when she pronounced the dental sound "spider silk," her tongue flicked lightly between her teeth, simultaneously flicking against his tongue; when she pronounced the labiodental sound "smooth," her upper lip lightly touched her lower lip, while simultaneously making a tiny kissing motion with his lips.

Shen Du's mind went blank. What had his master just said? Spider silk undergarments? Stockings? Smoothness? Touch? He shouldn't be thinking about these words, but he couldn't control his mind. He couldn't control his thoughts, nor could he control his reactions.

She could clearly feel his penis swell even more—not just a slight swelling, but a bouncy erection activated by intense sexual stimulation. Every inch of the engorged, erect penis pressed tightly against the sensitive areas of her vaginal wall, the slightly upturned tip perfectly positioned at the most sensitive spot in front of her cervix, throbbing rhythmically with his heartbeat. Each throbbing felt like a hot iron rod gently bouncing inside her.

Lu Qinghan sensed all of this. She still didn't say anything, but continued walking forward, maintaining the posture of the communication token in her hand, and added a few comments: "If you go on a long journey in the future, or go to a secret realm in a hot climate, this spider silk fabric is the best choice. It's lightweight, breathable, and doesn't attract sweat. It's much better than the animal skin lining you used to wear. You've worn that old lining for several years, and the fabric is all worn and pilling. Every time I asked you to change it, you couldn't bear to."

As she spoke, her tongue continued to rhythmically touch his with each syllable. Her lips also rubbed against his with each opening and closing—when she pronounced the retroflex sound "hot," her tongue curled upwards, causing his to curl upwards as well; when she pronounced the bilabial sound "breath," their lips touched lightly, like a dragonfly skimming the water; when she said the word "friction," her tongue scraped back and forth across his tongue twice. Beneath this casual, caring facade, Shen Du's penis grew increasingly swollen inside her. The stimulation of being tightly enveloped and constantly rubbed was accumulating little by little, like a dam filling with water, the waterline already overflowing the top.

"...Yes." Shen Du's voice was already trembling a little. "Master is right. Once this disciple...once this disciple recovers, I will find a better animal hide lining to replace it."

"Good boy." Lu Qinghan used a word she rarely used. The word "good boy" coming from her mouth, coupled with her cool voice, had an indescribable gentleness. But in the process of pronouncing this word, her tongue made a rolling motion—first, the tip of her tongue touched the upper palate to produce the initial consonant "g", and then the entire surface of her tongue pressed against it to produce the final vowel "uai". Her entire tongue made a slow and comprehensive set of extensions and retractions, while at the same time, the back and bottom of her tongue slid and rolled slowly on his tongue.

Shen Du twitched violently inside her. It wasn't his own intention—it was an uncontrollable spasm in his abdominal muscles. The pleasure was so intense that he had no time to suppress it, and his body instinctively thrust upwards. That movement caused his tip to slam into the soft flesh at the deepest part, almost directly crushing the cervix. Lu Qinghan's hand holding the token tightened slightly, her knuckles turning white for a moment, before she quickly relaxed it. Her expression remained unchanged as she continued walking, her steps still unhurried, her hips swaying naturally and gracefully. No one could tell what had happened.

The sect market is situated on a wide, flat area at the foot of the main peak of Cangshan Mountain, and is the largest trading place for cultivators within a radius of hundreds of miles. The market is an irregular oval shape, extending naturally along the mountain's contours. In the center is a plaza paved with blue flagstones, from which seven or eight streets and alleys of varying widths radiate outwards, their sides crowded with all sorts of shops and vendors. Selling pills, magical artifacts, spirit talismans, spirit beasts, cultivation manuals... almost anything related to cultivation can be found here.

The market was bustling with activity as noon approached. Cultivators dressed in colorful robes moved through the streets and alleys. Some hurried towards specific stalls, while others strolled leisurely along the street. A few young disciples who had just embarked on their cultivation journey squatted in front of a magic weapon shop, arguing about which flying sword offered the best value for money. The air was filled with the aroma of herbs wafting from the pill stalls, the sweet fragrance of freshly baked spirit rice cakes from the spirit food stalls, and the unique scents of various birds and beasts drifting from the spirit beast area. All these smells mingled together, creating a lively atmosphere unique to the cultivator market.

Lu Qinghan put away her communication token and stepped into the main street of the market. The moment she appeared, there was a noticeable silence for a few seconds. The title of "Number One Fairy of Cangshan" was well-deserved—clad in white, with a pure and elegant face, a noble air, and an aura of unapproachability, she was the center of attention wherever she went. Several young male cultivators, who had been haggling over spirit talismans, caught a glimpse of her approaching and instantly forgot what they were about to say, their mouths agape, almost dropping the spirit stones in their hands. A slightly older female cultivator at the Golden Core stage frowned upon seeing this and nudged the stunned young disciples with her elbow, but they still didn't recover.

Lu Qinghan was completely oblivious to the gazes around her—or rather, she was aware of them but didn't care at all. She had experienced these gazes countless times over the past few centuries, and had long since honed her ability to ignore them. Her attention wasn't on these insignificant passersby, but on her own body. Shen Du was burning hot with erection as she walked, and the pleasure of being tightly enveloped made every step she took enjoyable. And in the eyes of these passersby, she remained that aloof and untouchable fairy.

She paused briefly at the medicine stall, purchasing some commonly used healing pills and auxiliary medicinal herbs needed for cultivation. She walked along, selecting herbs as she went, seemingly engaged in perfectly normal shopping. But when she picked up a herb and held it to her nose to sniff, her tongue would casually lick her lower lip, and simultaneously, his lips. When she turned to the shopkeeper to inquire about the price of a certain herb, the tip of her tongue would slide back and forth between his and hers as she spoke; although it was just an unavoidable touch during normal conversation, it sent a slight tingling sensation through his entire mouth.

Next came browsing the robe shops. This was the main event. Lu Qinghan entered a small but elegantly decorated robe shop. The shop was filled with all sorts of robes and dresses, from basic plain-colored Taoist robes to elaborate gowns embroidered with intricate formations. The shopkeeper was a female cultivator in her early forties, with a late-stage Foundation Establishment cultivation level. She had a sharp eye and immediately recognized the fairy-like figure entering. She greeted her with a beaming smile, offering her a seat and tea, her attentiveness making Lu Qinghan feel somewhat embarrassed.

But Lu Qinghan's target today wasn't the regular robes hanging outside. Her gaze passed over the elegant white Taoist robes and landed on an inconspicuous shelf in the corner. There were several stacks of exotic-style dresses on it: a hazy chiffon dress, a Western Region gauze dress that floated lightly on the corner of the table like a red cloud, and several light shawls made of fine silk, which shimmered with a warm, pearly luster in the sunlight. The fabric was so thin that it was translucent, and the color was an extremely delicate light pink.

"Let me see these," Lu Qinghan said, pointing to the items.

The shopkeeper followed her finger, her expression subtly shifting—she had suspected those dresses wouldn't sell when they were first stocked; the female cultivators of the Cangshan Sword Sect always projected a cool, ethereal image, who would buy such Western-style gauze dresses? But a customer's request was an order, especially from a big client like Lu Qinghan. She quickly took out the dresses one by one, spreading them out on the counter for the customer to choose from.

Lu Qinghan examined each garment one by one, her expression focused and serious, as if selecting some important magical artifact. Her hands caressed the thin fabrics, feeling the smooth texture of the material—she knew Shen Du could feel it too. She knew he was looking at these dresses through her eyes, feeling the feather-light touch of the fabric against his palm with her fingertips. He could feel how thin the fabric was, so thin that he could see the pattern on the counter behind five or six layers; he could feel how smooth the silk was, so smooth that his fingers felt almost no resistance when they touched it; he could feel how delicate the colors were, so delicate that they reminded him of the petals of the first peach blossom in spring.

She was picking out clothes for him to see. This realization made Lu Qinghan's heart skip a beat. But to outsiders, everything seemed normal—a fairy who had just been frightened was buying some pretty clothes at the market to calm her nerves; wasn't that normal? The market was indeed bathed in sunlight today, and the gauze skirts shimmered under the light. What was wrong with buying a couple?

“These items,” Lu Qinghan pointed to a crimson gauze dress, a silk shawl, and a pair of exquisitely embroidered shoes, and said in a calm tone, “wrap them up.”

The shopkeeper hurriedly nodded and bowed, quickly folding the clothes and placing them in the brocade box. She secretly glanced at Lu Qinghan out of the corner of her eye—the things this ice-cold beauty bought, while unusual, weren't unreasonable. Who says a sword immortal can't wear a gauze dress?

As Lu Qinghan left the robe shop, she turned into a jewelry stall next door. The stall was filled with all kinds of hairpins, earrings, bracelets and necklaces, most of which were magic artifacts—there were jade pendants that could calm the mind and focus the spirit, silver hairpins with built-in defensive formations, and earrings that could enhance spiritual perception.

She first picked up a pale blue spirit stone earring and examined it closely in her hand. The earring was teardrop-shaped, polished very smoothly, and its color was clear and bright; under sunlight, one could see the flowing light threads inside. Lu Qinghan held the earring to her ear and looked at it in the bronze mirror the stall owner handed her. As she turned her head, the tongue that was embedded with another person unconsciously rolled half a circle in her mouth, causing the person she was enveloping to also be unable to move and observe along with her.

The stall owner was an elderly man in a gray robe with a long beard. He looked quite kind. Seeing that she liked it, he quickly came over to introduce it: "Fairy, you have a good eye. This earring is carved from azure blue crystal from the North Sea. It has a calming and concentration effect. Wearing one can increase the efficiency of meditation by 10%."

Lu Qinghan tilted her head slightly, letting the earrings sway gently below her earlobes. The pale blue light refracted by the crystals reflected on her fair neck, making her skin appear even more translucent. "Hmm, wrap it up." She paused, then pointed to another item on the stall, "And this."

It was a hairpin. The pure silver shaft was topped with an exquisitely carved magnolia blossom, its petals delicate and lifelike, and a tiny luminous pearl at the stamen, gleaming softly in the sunlight. Lu Qinghan picked up the hairpin and examined it for a long time—she usually only used a bamboo hairpin to hold her hair, keeping it simple and never wearing any jewelry. But today, she suddenly felt that changing to a beautiful silver hairpin wasn't such a bad thing. She tried it on in front of the bronze mirror, looking at the fairy-like figure in the mirror, holding the hairpin, her features exquisite, and suddenly asked in her heart, "Shen Du, is this pretty?"

Shen Du felt like he was being driven mad by torture. The silver hairpin gleamed softly in the bronze mirror, the stray hairs hanging down her temples, and the exquisitely beautiful face so close to hers, slightly turned to the side—everything was too clear. He was forced to press himself against the inside of her body, watching from the closest distance as his master was slightly mesmerized by her own beauty. He felt as if his heart was about to leap out of his chest, pounding so hard that his breathing became erratic, and his lower body throbbed with pain. He held back for a long time, his inner fire and reverence churning into a jumbled mess, and finally, he could only sullenly, hunched over, shrink into his master's abdomen and squeeze out a single word: "...Beautiful."

Lu Qinghan's lips curved upwards for a fleeting moment, then she quickly suppressed it. She lingered in front of the bronze mirror for a few seconds, her fingertips unconsciously touching the skin beside her ear, as if tidying her perfectly styled hair. This brief pause made his already throbbing pulse even more intense.

She loved this feeling, loved the way he was enveloped by her body, yet still overwhelmed by her beauty and the subtle touches. It satisfied her more than any praise.

After browsing the jewelry stalls, Lu Qinghan went to a magic weapon materials shop to replenish some materials needed for her cultivation. She paused for a moment as she passed a spiritual food stall. The stall was selling freshly baked spiritual rice cakes, steaming hot, with a golden-brown crispy crust and an enticing sweet aroma.

This was Shen Du's favorite food when he was little. Every time they came to the sect market, he would drag her to queue up. He would clutch the spirit stones he had saved up for a long time in his little hands, stand on tiptoe to hand the spirit stones to the stall owner, and then run back with a spirit rice cake bigger than his face. He would break it in half, give her one half, and eat the other half himself. She would always say no, but in the end, he would still force half of it into her hand, and then watch him wolf it down amidst the sweet aroma of the spirit rice cake.

As if guided by a spirit, she walked to the stall and bought two pieces. The stall owner, a plump old woman, smiled and wrapped up two pieces of spirit rice cake, handing them to her. Lu Qinghan paid with spirit stones, took the cake, and bit into it. She chewed the glutinous rice slowly and deliberately, allowing the sweet aroma to fully interact with her tongue. A crumb of rice cake clung to her tongue, and she gently licked away the sugar powder from her lips. This licking motion also touched his lips. His tongue, belonging to him, naturally also tasted the sweet flavor of the spirit rice cake.

"This was your favorite food when you were little," she said to Shen Du in her heart, her tone carrying a hint of tenderness. "Try it today too. See if this stall has changed its recipe. I remember they used to put more sugar in it, but now it seems to be a bit less sweet."

Shen Du didn't answer. Not because he didn't want to, but because he simply couldn't speak. His master's tongue lightly swept across his as she licked her lips, carrying the sweetness of the spirit rice cake and the familiar cool fragrance of her mouth. The two flavors mingled, creating something that left his mind blank. Deep inside her, the walls of her vagina were tightening in sync—as she licked her lips, the vaginal walls rhythmically undulated, as if countless soft, wet mouths were simultaneously kissing his entire penis from the depths to the entrance. His body was almost out of control; he could feel the impending ejaculation gathering deep within his lower abdomen, growing stronger and harder to suppress.

Lu Qinghan sensed the signs that he was about to lose control—his heart suddenly raced, his breathing became rapid and erratic, and his penis swelled and throbbed violently inside her. She knew he was about to reach his limit. She also knew that the best time was when they were flying on the sword.

"I've bought almost everything." She walked to an open space at the end of the market, where sect disciples took off and landed their flying swords. She put several brocade boxes into her storage bag, then formed a sword shape with her fingers, softly chanted an incantation, and the longsword beneath her feet unsheathed, hovering three feet above the ground, trembling slightly. She stepped onto the flying sword, lightly touching the blade with her toes, and the sword carried her slowly off the ground, flying towards Qingya Peak. The first few breaths were relatively smooth, but when she flew through the cableway between Qingya Peak and the main peak, a gust of mountain wind swept across from the side, causing the sword beneath her feet to lurch violently.

Lu Qinghan gave a perfunctory "hmm" on the surface, her brows furrowing slightly, and the flying sword beneath her feet bounced a few more times in response. In reality, this level of mountain wind was nothing to her swordsmanship; she could easily regain her balance with a slight adjustment. But this time, she deliberately didn't maintain her balance. She let the sword ride the mountain wind up a thin layer of clouds, the rushing moisture mixing with the biting cold wind at high altitude. Then, the instant she broke through the clouds and returned to the blue sky, she deliberately let the sword beneath her feet lose the support of that sea of ​​clouds, her entire body, along with the longsword beneath her feet, plummeted downwards a short distance. Although it wasn't true weightlessness, the intense downward momentum and the resulting violent jolts were enough to make Shen Du, embedded within her, feel a sense of weightlessness akin to falling off a cliff.

The momentum of his descent caused his entire body to slump downwards, his penis following her body as it thrust heavily into the narrow, slippery passage. The violent shaking during the jolt caused his pelvis to rub against her abdominal wall, simultaneously propelling his penis to perform several short, intense thrusts inside her.

Shen Du had been holding back all morning. Ever since he ejaculated during his morning practice, he had been in a state of heightened sensitivity. Then, the constant friction from his master's walking kept him hard all the way. While browsing the market, he was repeatedly stimulated by his master's clothes, jewelry, and lip-licking gestures. Finally, during the weightless, turbulent ride on the sword, he was thrust deep inside. The dam finally broke.

He cried out, the sound muffled in Lu Qinghan's throat, turning into a low, trembling groan. Then his penis convulsed violently inside her, every muscle fiber contracting uncontrollably, gushing out spurts of warm semen, drenching her cervix and the soft folds deep within her vagina. The ejaculation was more forceful and voluminous than the one yesterday morning; the semen, thick and viscous from half a day's accumulation, impacted her inner walls, bringing a hot, fluid-washing, full sensation.

This intense climax caused his consciousness to go blank for a moment, leaving only instinct driving his body to thrust upwards, trembling as he released all his semen. The sword bounced among the clouds as he released inside her. The mist from the sea of ​​clouds mixed with the blinding sunlight from high above, turning the whole world into a blurry white.

Lu Qinghan had to use one hand to steady herself against a pine tree—luckily, they had reached the entrance to Qingya Peak, and there was no one around to witness her brief moment of unease. Leaning against the pine trunk, she breathed heavily, not from exhaustion, but from the overwhelming force of the scalding torrent within her. She could clearly feel the liquid spreading within her, gushing from his tip, washing over the sensitive walls of her cervix, then slowly flowing down the curve of her vagina, soaking every fold, every sensitive spot, finally filling every gap between his penis and her inner walls. The liquid was scalding hot, several degrees hotter than her own body temperature. In this body, which had been kept cool by the Ice Heart Jade Technique for years, the burning sensation was particularly vivid. She could even feel the liquid flowing slowly and viscously, each movement bringing a warm, moist sensation, like countless tiny warm currents meandering and spreading deep within her abdomen.

When the climax finally passed, Shen Du regained consciousness from a state of chaotic blankness. His first reaction wasn't comfort, but fear. He belatedly realized what he had just done, and the realization made his mind explode—he had ejaculated inside his master. And it was the second time. And it happened during their sword flight, while his master was flying on his sword. He spoke in a trembling voice, his voice still heavy with panting and deep fear: "Master... I'm sorry... I... I couldn't hold back when we were flying on the sword..."

Lu Qinghan closed his eyes, taking about two breaths to calm his breathing and heartbeat before speaking. His voice was as calm and gentle as ever, even carrying a reassuring smile: "Silly child, how many times have I told you, there's no need to apologize for this. Your body's reaction is instinct, it's not wrong. Your master doesn't blame you. If you can't get over it, your master will worry about you instead."

Her tone was so gentle and composed, like a loving elder comforting a child who had made a small mistake. She reached out and unconsciously touched her lower abdomen—a gesture that, to outsiders, appeared to be merely adjusting her clothes, but only she knew that she was gently stroking the still trembling member within her, the one who had just ejaculated inside her. She could feel his semen still trickling out, slowly sliding down the curve of her thighs, soaking the thin edge of her spider silk undergarment.

Shen Du's eyes welled up with tears. The thing he feared most in his life was disappointing his master. From the age of eight until now, every time he made a mistake, he would recall his master's calm yet never overly harsh eyes. What he feared most wasn't punishment, but the speechless look his master gave him, as if saying, "Why aren't you practicing properly again?" But this time, he heard no blame in his master's voice, not even a trace of reproach.

He secretly vowed in his heart—this life truly belongs to his master, and he will do whatever his master says without hesitation or backing down.

As Lu Qinghan silently made his vow, he removed his fingers from his lower abdomen, his fingertips still trembling slightly—not out of fear, but out of extreme satisfaction.

She slowly walked into the courtyard, watching the setting sun paint the bamboo forest of Qingya Peak golden. Life in the mountains remained as peaceful as ever; birds returned to their nests, and a gentle evening breeze blew. But deep within her heart, what had been frozen beneath the ice had completely melted away. She knew what she wanted.

She wanted him. Not like a master wanting an apprentice, but a woman wanting a man. She didn't want to wait for him to leave before slowly cultivating feelings, testing the waters, and waiting for a possibility that might never come. She didn't want to wait any longer. She wanted to be with him openly, to kiss him and hug him whenever she wanted, instead of only daring to secretly enjoy that fleeting sweetness when her tongue accidentally touched his.

But how could she bring it up? She couldn't just say, "Shen Du, I've fallen in love with you." That would scare him away. He respected the title of "Master" so much, valuing it above all else. If she rashly broke the ice, his first reaction would be self-reproach—that she, in her youthful impetuosity, had tainted her master's reputation, causing him to have such incestuous thoughts. She couldn't let him think that way.

She needed a reason. A perfectly legitimate, respectable reason that no one could find fault with. This reason should be acceptable to the sect, get the patriarch's approval, and silence any potential gossip. At the same time, this reason also needed to make Shen Du himself feel that being with his master was not a betrayal of the master-disciple relationship, but rather helping his master.

The Demon Blade.

When those two words popped into her mind, Lu Qinghan's eyelashes trembled slightly.

The true purpose of the demonic sword is still not fully understood. Mu Qianshan said that after her flesh and blood were emptied by the demonic sword, her body developed its own consciousness and needed filling to maintain its stability. Shen Du was absorbed because of the "deepest bond" between them. This was said by the ancestor himself, and everyone present heard it. Since the bond is the deepest, can we infer that the remaining evil energy of the demonic sword needs an even deeper bond to dissolve it? For example… the yin-yang harmony between Daoist partners? She could share this idea with Mu Qianshan—of course, only mentioning the part the demonic sword could dissolve, omitting her feelings for her disciple. Mu Qianshan is a shrewd man of hundreds of years, but he doesn't know much about the demonic sword either. As long as her explanation is reasonable, he has no reason to object. As for Shen Du, it's even simpler. Just tell him, "This is to help Master dissolve the remaining evil energy of the demonic sword," and given his personality, he will definitely nod without hesitation. He might even feel ashamed—ashamed that he hesitated because it violated the master-disciple relationship, instead of immediately agreeing to help his master.

The plan gradually took shape in her mind, like a scroll being slowly unveiled, each stroke clear and resolute. She looked out the window, a faint smile unconsciously appearing on her lips, a smile that others couldn't decipher.

She wasn't in a hurry. She had plenty of time. And Shen Du, at this moment, remained safely within her body, unable to go anywhere.