Chapter 10 Twist

The night was thick and inky. The bamboo forest atop Qingya Peak rustled softly in the night breeze, occasionally punctuated by the low cooing of night birds. The candles in the bedroom had long since gone out, leaving only a few streaks of cold, white moonlight filtering through the window, casting a thin, silvery-gray veil on the floor. The bronze mirror stood silently in the corner, its surface still bearing traces of the condensation from the couple's breath during their nuptial ceremony the previous night, vaguely reflecting the huddled figure on the bed.

Lu Qinghan wasn't asleep. Her body lay quietly on the bed, her breathing even and gentle, appearing at first glance no different from being fast asleep. But her consciousness was as sharp as a newly honed sword, every nerve taut, sensing everything about the person inside her—his heartbeat had calmed down from the daytime's violent fluctuations, becoming a deep and regular rhythm; his breathing had become long and even, occasionally letting out a very soft snore with each exhale, a habit he only had when he was sound asleep, one she had heard countless times over the past twelve years; his body was completely relaxed inside her, his muscles no longer tense, his penis softly nestled in her vagina, rising and falling slightly with his sleeping breaths, no longer as hard and hot as it had been during the day.

He was fast asleep.

Lu Qinghan waited for about the time it takes for an incense stick to burn, as patiently as a female leopard lurking in the grass waiting for its prey. She confirmed the depth of his sleep—it was early morning, the time when people sleep most soundly. Even ringing a bell next to his ear wouldn't necessarily wake him, let alone waking him. She had precisely calculated this time; since yesterday evening, she had consciously adjusted his schedule, making him more tired, more sleepy, and sleeping more deeply than usual. Of course, this arrangement was entirely out of good intentions—after all, he had been exhausted all day, so what was wrong with him sleeping a little longer?

She shifted her waist slightly. The inner walls of her vagina contracted very subtly, as if testing the waters. Shen Du didn't react; his heartbeat remained steady, his breathing deep, and his snoring was even louder than before. Good.

Lu Qinghan sat up silently, her movements lighter than a cat's, each joint bending with precision, not a sound creaking from the bed. Her bare feet touched the cool wooden floor, the sensation traveling up her legs, exceptionally clear to her. She straightened up and looked down at her body—in the moonlight, a woman's figure, clad in a white undergarment, stood gracefully, her curves faintly visible beneath the thin fabric. She could feel Shen Du sleeping peacefully within her, chest against her chest, abdomen against her abdomen, legs nestled between her legs. He was curled up defenselessly in the warmest, softest part of her body, like an infant sleeping in the womb.

Lu Qinghan raised her hand and gently stroked her lower abdomen, feeling the sleeping person through the skin. Her fingertips drew a very light circle on her lower abdomen, as tenderly as if she were caressing a rare treasure.

"Shen Du." She called out in her heart in a very soft voice, so soft that even her own divine sense could hardly hear it, so as not to disturb her sleeping little disciple.

There was no response. Only the even breathing and steady heartbeat, like the most peaceful background music.

Lu Qinghan's lips curved slightly. Then she closed her eyes, sinking all her consciousness into the depths of her own skin, into every corner covering Shen Du's body. She began to activate her skin, making it operate in reverse. This scene was strikingly similar to their separation at the gates of Qingya Peak—a faint glow appeared on the surface of her skin, and the texture of her skin began to tremble slightly, like a pool of spring water ruffled by the wind. Then, from the midline of her body, from head to toe, a tiny crack silently appeared.

This time, unlike before, she didn't succumb to the survival instinct of her skin halfway through the splitting process. She controlled the entire process, each step extremely slow, steady, and gentle. The skin began to separate from Shen Du's body from the head—her hair peeled from his, her forehead from his, her nose from his. The separation produced extremely subtle sticking sounds, like countless fine threads being torn apart simultaneously. These sounds were exceptionally clear in the quiet bedroom, but Shen Du's sleep was not disturbed in the slightest.

Unlike last time, when her lips parted from his, her tongue gently brushed against his one last time. It was an extremely light and tender lick, full of lingering affection, like a cat grooming its owner's hand one last time before leaving.

Then came the body. Her skin peeled away from his chest, from his abdomen, from his waist. The gel-like fluid that filled the space between their skin was slowly absorbed by the inner walls of the skin, returning to the skin's tissues as a clear liquid. She could feel his body temperature gradually fading from her senses, the transition from warm to slightly cool stirring a powerful resistance within her. But she endured it. It wasn't a real separation, only temporary.

Finally, her legs. Thighs, knees, calves, ankles, toes—layer by layer, they were peeled away. When the last toe emerged from her skin, Shen Du's body appeared intact on the bed, lying naked in the silvery moonlight, utterly defenseless.

Lu Qinghan looked down at him, her eyes filled with an unspeakable longing. The moonlight shone on him, outlining the unique lines of a young man's physique—broad shoulders, a strong chest, a narrow waist, and long, powerful legs. His skin was a healthy tan, a stark contrast to her own almost translucent whiteness. His face looked exceptionally young in the moonlight; at twenty, his features had lost their boyishness, the arch of his brow bone sharp and distinct, making him almost unrecognizable from his youth. His long eyelashes cast two faint shadows in the moonlight, trembling slightly with his breath. His nose was straight, his lips slightly full, and the corners of his mouth turned down slightly, as if he were suppressing something even in his dreams. He slept soundly, his breathing even and long, his chest rising and falling rhythmically, emitting soft snores. One arm was under his head, the other rested naturally on his chest, his fist slightly clenched, as if he were still practicing swordsmanship in his dreams.

She looked at him, her gaze softening and becoming complex, her usually cool eyes now filled with tenderness. She had seen this face for twelve years. From eight to twenty, from that disheveled little beggar to the strong, agile young man before her, she had been a part of every important stage of his life. She had helped him put his first baby tooth back in the wooden box; when he nearly suffered a qi deviation during his foundation-building stage, she had stayed by his bedside for three days and three nights without sleep; when he successfully flew solo on his sword for the first time, she nodded expressionlessly, but as she turned away, her eyes welled with tears. He knew none of this.

But she was still not quite satisfied. He was too quiet. Sleeping peacefully in the moonlight, Shen Du's brows were relaxed, his breathing steady, as docile as a sleeping puppy. But this wasn't her favorite Shen Du. Her favorite Shen Du was the one inside her, his mind clouded by pleasure, calling her "husband" in her voice, the Shen Du who, though blushing and wanting to disappear, couldn't control his body. He looked too docile as he slept; he wasn't pretty enough.

The idea grew clearer and clearer in her mind. She wanted to envelop him in pleasure again, to see that look of shame and utter helplessness on his face. But this time, she would do it differently. She would be the one to enter him.

Lu Qinghan took out a yellowed animal hide scroll from her storage bag. This was an ancient secret technique she had found in the sect's library, recording an extremely ancient method of skinning and fusion with human skin. She had studied the demon sword's operating mechanism for seven whole days, and combined it with the ancient book on skin puppet crafting provided by Mu Qianshan, finally deducing a method that could transform any object into a human skin shell. Of course, it wasn't permanent or irreversible, only temporary. She repeatedly checked its safety, at least dozens of times, before deciding to use it on him.

She unfurled the scroll and gently touched several key acupoints marked on it with her fingertips—Dantian, Mingmen, and Huiyin. Her Ice Heart True Qi transformed into extremely fine threads, slowly flowing into Shen Du's body along these acupoints. The moonlight mixed with the Ice Heart power, presenting an extremely soft pale blue hue, like fine threads of light flowing and dancing between her fingertips and Shen Du's skin. She did not awaken him, but chose to let the true qi flow naturally through his meridians, avoiding any acupoints that might trigger a defensive reaction, taking the gentlest and most concealed path. This process was slower than any other cultivation technique; each advancement of true qi was almost imperceptible.

The transformation began in his firm lower abdomen, specifically his dantian. His muscles and bones didn't disappear; instead, they were gently "folded" into the subspace of his skin. The flat muscle lines of his abdomen gradually softened and became ethereal, while his skin remained intact, only its interior transformed into a cavity capable of holding it. Then came his chest, legs, and pelvis. His flesh gradually dissolved within the skin, while the skin remained perfectly preserved, forming a complete, soft, human-shaped shell. When the transformation was complete, Shen Du's body had become a human skin, exactly like his original outline, only its interior had become a cavity capable of holding it, hollow yet warm, like a piece of clothing just removed from his body, still retaining its warmth.

Looking at the scene before her, Lu Qinghan's gaze softened considerably. The body that belonged to Shen Du twitched slightly under her gaze, as if responding to her look. She smiled gently.

She stepped out with her right foot, her bare foot entering the opening in Shen Du's leather sac. The feel inside was completely different from her own—not the smooth, constantly secreting fluid, inner wall, but a dry, warm, soft touch, like sun-dried cotton. When the inside of the sac pressed against the skin of her calf, it didn't devour her, but welcomed her. Lu Qinghan slowly inserted her leg into his sac, her toes touching the bottom of his toes, her knees fitting into the joints of his knees, every inch of her thigh skin pressed tightly against the inside of his sac. Then came her torso. She pulled open the openings at the waist and chest of his sac, stuffing her body inside layer by layer. The curve of her hips filled the cavity of his hips, her waist tucked into his strong waist, her back pressed against the inside of his spine. Her breasts filled the space of his chest, the two full, soft mounds pressing against the hollow shell of his flat pectoral muscles, bringing a slightly tingling sensation of contact.

Finally, her arms. She slipped her arms into the sheaths of his leather arm sleeves, her fingers touching the tips. His fingers were slightly longer than hers, and the sheaths automatically tightened by half an inch when they felt her fingertips, perfectly enveloping her knuckles so that every flexion and extension was a seamless fit.

She manipulated Shen Du's physical form to raise her right hand and examine it closely. In the moonlight, the outline of that hand was Shen Du's—wheat-colored skin, distinct knuckles, and thin calluses from sword practice on the fingertips and the base of the thumb. But inside it was her. This realization made her heart beat several times faster involuntarily.

She looked down at her lower body again. Shen Du's genitals were still there—of course they were, how could she possibly remove them? The male organ hung between his legs, its outline unchanged.

There was only one difference. She activated her magic, causing his genitals to flip inward. The organ didn't disappear or change shape; instead, it seemed to be pushed into her skin by an invisible hand, flipping inside her vaginal opening. Thus, from the outside, Shen Du's genitals were no longer a male outline, but smooth and slightly raised—it was hers, her own image. She also used magic to subtly refine the surrounding area, making it look even pinker, smoother, and more adorable, like a budding flower. Satisfied, she withdrew her hand.

After all this was done, Lu Qinghan stretched her neck, feeling the sensation of being enveloped by Shen Du's skin. He had become her outer garment, and she was his filling. Wearing Shen Du's skin was completely different from wearing her own clothes—her own skin was soft, moist, like flowing water; while his skin was dry and warm, carrying a unique scent of a young man, its inner texture rougher and more realistic, like a gentle, hard cocoon tightly enveloping her. This feeling was wonderful and reassuring.

She stretched her limbs, allowing her joints to readjust to the slightly larger body. Shen Du was more than half a head taller than her, but his skin automatically adjusted its size after enveloping her, fitting her body perfectly. From the outside, it looked as if Shen Du himself had been resurrected—broad shoulders, a strong waist, tanned skin, just like usual. She walked to the bronze mirror, examined the "Shen Du" in the moonlight for a while, then smiled with satisfaction, returned to the bed, lay down again, and relinquished control of her body to her sleeping consciousness, waiting for dawn.

At 3:45 AM, the morning light streamed into the window as usual.

Shen Du's eyelashes fluttered a few times, then his eyes opened. Familiar beams and ceiling came into view, sunlight filtering through the bamboo window, casting long, thin patches of light on the wall. He stared at the beams for a few moments, feeling something was amiss. He raised his hand—and saw a tanned, well-defined hand with calluses on the base of the thumb—his own hand. He froze for a moment, then sat bolt upright, looking down at his body. Tanned skin, broad shoulders, a strong chest, the lines of his abdominal muscles clearly visible in the morning light—it was his own body. He was back. He had returned to his own body.

A huge surge of joy welled up inside him, and he subconsciously looked down at his lower body—then froze.

There was nothing there. The male genitalia were gone, replaced by a smooth, slightly raised female vulva. The slit was closed tightly and gracefully, surrounded by a pale pink ring, looking more delicate and lovely than any he had ever secretly seen in illustrations in storybooks.

His mind went blank for about three breaths. Then he reached out, his hand hesitantly touching that spot. The moment his fingers touched the soft crevice, a tingling, electric-like pleasure exploded from that point, shooting up his spine to the top of his head. It wasn't the direct stimulation of a male genital being touched, but a more delicate, more lingering, more numbing sensation, like a flower quietly blooming inside him. The stimulation was so unfamiliar, so overwhelming, that his entire abdomen spasmed. He bit his lower lip, forcing back the scream and the gasp that followed.

"Master!" he screamed in his heart, his voice filled with terror, "Master! Are you there?!"

"...Here." A voice rang in his mind. It was his master's voice, clear and slightly languid, as if he had just been woken up. But strangely, the direction from which her voice came was different from what he remembered—before, his master's voice seemed to come from all directions at the same time, from above his head, from below his feet, from every part of his body; but now, his master's voice seemed to come from deep within his body, like a single point of sound emanating from a specific location.

"Master! I'm back to normal! My body has recovered!" Shen Du's voice was both excited and terrified. "But... but my... my lower body..." He couldn't finish his sentence.

Lu Qinghan remained silent for a moment inside his body, then answered in an extremely serious tone, as if conducting an academic discussion: "It should be a sequela of the fusion of the skin and body. After my skin and yours separated, your body underwent some self-adjusting changes. Don't worry too much, this is only temporary."

She spoke with absolute certainty, each word as calm as analyzing the techniques of a sword fight. But deep within him, she subtly tightened the walls of her vagina, feeling the hardness and temperature of the organ still outside, not yet fully inside. Of course, she didn't tell Shen Du the truth. What she told him was that the skin's effects were too complex; perhaps the outer layer of skin had become transparent, revealing her underlying structure. She casually fabricated a set of extremely professional terms—something like "subspace folding," "subcutaneous permeability effect," and "residual soul mapping"—making it sound more real than the truth itself.

Shen Du was silent for a moment, then he believed her. How could he not believe her? His master was not only the person he respected most, but now she was also his wife. He took every word she said as gospel. So he carefully reached out and touched that spot again, gently rubbing it through the outer skin. That tingling pleasure returned, spreading from that point in all directions, permeating his entire pelvis and lower abdomen, bringing a strange, feminine pleasure.

He jerked his hand away, his face turning as red as hot iron.

The only thing that gave him any comfort now was that, at least outwardly, he looked exactly the same as before. He endured the lingering tingling sensation as he rolled out of bed, standing barefoot on the wooden floor. The mere rubbing of the bed against his genitals made his legs go weak. He took a deep breath and stood for a few moments before regaining his balance. Then he began to dress. His own clothes. Wearing his own clothes felt completely different from wearing his master's—the fabric was rougher, the cut looser, the belt not around his waist but cinched above his hips, and the drape at the shoulders felt more pronounced, requiring some getting used to before it felt constricting. When he put on his trousers, the fabric brushed against that tender area below, sending another electric-like tingling sensation through him, which he gritted his teeth and forced to endure.

After getting dressed, he began to wash up. His movements were entirely his own habit—he splashed water on his face without restraint, just haphazardly wiping it; he combed his hair quickly and tied it up with a ribbon, a stark contrast to his master's meticulous elegance. Having finished, he stood before the bronze mirror. Reflected in the mirror was a young man: a rugged face, well-defined brow bones, and skin a healthy tan from years of sword practice in the sun. He wore a grey short-sleeved shirt, his belt neatly fastened, and his hair tied in a sleek ponytail with a ribbon—he looked like an ordinary disciple of the Cangshan Sword Sect. His appearance was flawless.

The only problem was that with every step he took, he could feel his genitals pressing against a soft, moist hollow somewhere he couldn't see. The warm, enveloping sensation rhythmically followed his steps, and that warm, enveloping feeling was unmistakably his master's. Adding to this, the newly discovered feminine area in his genitals was also radiating pleasure with each step—two different kinds of pleasure, from different sources, alternating or occurring simultaneously, completely confusing his mind. But at least no one else had seen anything amiss. He decided it was best to move around as little as possible today, meet up with friends for tea and a chat to get through it, and wait for his master to come up with a solution.

Having made up his mind, he pushed open the door and went out. As Shen Du walked along the mountain path to the sect's common area, he ran into his best friend, Fang Yuan. Fang Yuan was the son of Elder Fang of the Cangshan Sword Sect's Discipline Hall, a late-stage Foundation Establishment cultivator with a round face and round eyes, and a naturally cheerful, slightly goofy demeanor. The two had entered the sect in the same year and lived in the outer disciple dormitory together for three years; their friendship was as close as brothers. Whenever Shen Du made a fool of himself, Fang Yuan was always the first to laugh at him, but also the first to help.

Fang Yuanyuan's eyes lit up when she saw Shen Du. She quickly ran over and patted him on the shoulder, her round face adorned with an extremely irritating gossipy smile: "Shen Du! You little rascal! I heard that Uncle Lu said in front of the Ancestor in the council hall that you and Uncle Lu have already made a vow to be Daoist partners? You little rascal, you kept it from me for so long! I never expected that you would actually pluck the coldest ice flower of Cangshan!"

Shen Du stumbled from the slap. It wasn't his shoulder; the vibration had traveled to his perineum, affecting the area inside his body that was intimately connected to his master. A tingling, pleasurable sensation exploded from that spot, sending a jolt through half his spine. He gritted his teeth, swallowing back the low moan that rose to his throat, forcing a smile that looked more like a grimace: "This...this isn't what you think..."

"It's not what I thought?" Fang Yuan's eyes widened. "That's Lu Qinghan! Do you know how many male cultivators in Cangshan dream of falling at her feet? And you, the lazy swordsman who steals bird nests, got her! Well done, you really made us outer sect disciples proud! But then again, you and your master have cultivated together for so long, supporting each other in fighting against the demonic path, it's normal to have feelings for each other. Don't worry, your brothers all support you!"

Shen Du opened his mouth as if to say something, but deep inside him, Lu Qinghan deliberately tightened the vaginal walls, causing his words to break into a muffled guttural sound. His body stiffened for a moment, his face flushed red to his ears, and his fingers unconsciously clenched the hem of his clothes.

Seeing his face turn so red, Fang Yuan grinned even wider: "Oh my, still blushing! You're married and still so thin-skinned? That's rare! But seriously, Martial Aunt Lu is really good to you. You don't know that after the incident at Qingya Peak, you ran away first, and then inexplicably recovered. Everyone said that Martial Aunt Lu risked half her life to save you. She even went to the council hall to talk to the patriarch several times—think about it, when has someone like Lu Qinghan ever gone to the council hall for anyone? For you, she even put aside the rules. Brother, you have to treat her well."

When Shen Du heard the phrase "she can even abandon the rules," the feeling of being locked up and enveloped within him intensified. Lu Qinghan was quietly, rhythmically tightening the inner walls of his body, as if silently responding to every word of praise from Fang Yuan. Each subtle contraction and sucking movement was perfectly timed with Fang Yuan's words, like his penis keeping time for his master. He was moved by Fang Yuan's words, yet tormented by an invisible pleasure that made his knees weak. He could only nod repeatedly, his gaze flickering elsewhere, afraid to let Fang Yuan notice anything amiss.

"I know, I know." Shen Du forced a normal tone, while feeling Lu Qinghan tighten inside him again, her cervix gently brushing against his tip like a soft little mouth. He clenched his teeth tightly until Fang Yuan patted his shoulder with satisfaction, whistled, and walked away, at which point he leaned against the bamboo railing by the roadside, feeling utterly exhausted.

“…Master,” he thought through gritted teeth, “you did this on purpose.”

“…Mmm.” Lu Qinghan readily admitted it. Her voice came from inside him, carrying a warm, satisfied smile. She had enjoyed Fang Yuan's praise more than anyone else, especially when she heard “she could even set aside her rules for you,” she almost impulsively wanted to squeeze him tighter. She did it on purpose, but she didn't need to say it aloud, because he knew she did it on purpose.