A Dangerous Reunion

The girl’s warm breath, seeping through the crevices of the terracotta armor, still dampened his earlobe.

Her whispered words were like a lover’s sweet nothings, yet to Mo Tingbei, they felt like the flicking tongue of a venomous snake brushing against his ear.

A jolt of icy dread erupted from his tailbone, spreading like wildfire up his spine until it crashed against the crown of his head.

Mo Tingbei distinctly felt goosebumps prickle across his skin.

‘How could she be here?’

The girl’s scent grew more potent in his nostrils.

A warm hand then pressed against the iron mask of the terracotta armor.

As the girl’s gentle caress continued, a flash of spell-light erupted.

“Master, do you know how hard Xiaoxiao has searched for you?”

“You always possess means to prevent divination, making it impossible to find you, even when I implored my martial uncles and aunts for help.”

“So Xiaoxiao visited every place we’ve ever been together, but you weren’t anywhere.”

“I almost thought I’d never see you again.”

Mo Tingbei couldn’t help but recall the past.

Those once-warm memories rippled through his mind.

However, in the very next instant, a blade-sharp surge of spiritual energy shattered his reverie.

The chilling threat of death once again coiled around his heart.

‘This wicked disciple is here to kill him too!’

‘To merely release him from his restraints, she’s using a lethal technique like the Divine Edge Art!’

The terracotta armor and the binding cloths dissolved rapidly under the girl’s spiritual energy, much like snowflakes melting in the spring sun.

What was impregnable to mortals proved utterly powerless and fragile in the hands of a cultivator.

In the dim candlelight, Mo Tingbei’s handsome face was utterly devoid of color, ashen as a corpse.

From several tiny wounds, delicate crimson beads of blood slowly welled up.

These blood beads flowed agonizingly slowly, as if silently accusing the girl of her recent recklessness.

The once spirited acting sect master of the Three-One Sword Sect was now reduced to skin and bones.

Only his eyes remained strikingly bright, as if a fire still burned within them.

The girl, who called herself Xiaoxiao, beheld Mo Tingbei’s appearance.

With tender care, she lightly touched his visibly gaunt cheek.

Fresh bloodstains from her recent spell marred its surface.

Her eyes, however, held an unyielding, obsessive adoration.

With the index finger of one hand, she wiped away a seeping bead of blood, smeared it onto her lips, and then delicately licked it.

A strange blush bloomed across her face.

The corners of her mouth curved upwards in an involuntary smile.

Her bright eyes, too, gleamed with an unusual merriment.

Her other hand, unable to resist, slid downwards, tracing the contours of Mo Tingbei’s neck.

It lingered especially in the hollows of his collarbones, as if she were admiring a priceless, heirloom celadon vase:

“Fortunately, all the mystical obstructions on your person were broken yesterday.”

“Xiaoxiao stayed awake for ten whole hours, without rest, just to get here.”

“Now that you are this vulnerable, it’s my turn to protect you.”

“From now on… you will belong only to Xiaoxiao.”

“Your disciple will find a place safer and more comfortable than this, and hide you away… forever… forever…”

While it appeared to be a scene of profound master-disciple reunion, Mo Tingbei glimpsed a dangerous, fervent desire in Lin Xiaoxiao’s eyes.

Her words, meant as an expression of gratitude, carried an unsettling, chilling undertone.

As Lin Xiaoxiao spoke, her hands never ceased their work.

The restraints binding Mo Tingbei crumbled into fragments with a rustling sound.

Inevitably, this left several new wounds on Mo Tingbei’s body, from which blood welled forth.

Mo Tingbei winced in pain, his brows furrowing involuntarily.

A hint of helplessness unconsciously flickered in his eyes.

‘Xiaoxiao still can’t precisely control her spiritual energy.’

‘Perhaps these injuries are my retribution for being such an inadequate master.’

Lin Xiaoxiao caught sight of this, her face twisting into a panicked expression.

“Master, I’m so sorry.”

“Xiaoxiao forgot that you are no longer a cultivator.”

Seeing Mo Tingbei still lying amidst the tattered cloths, Lin Xiaoxiao seemed to realize something profound, and without hesitation, formed a hand seal, inflicting several wounds upon her own body.

Mo Tingbei became aware of her action; just as he was about to stop her, Lin Xiaoxiao’s body was already covered in wounds.

“Foolish disciple.”

Mo Tingbei froze for a moment.

A feeling of pity once again swelled in his heart.

Lin Xiaoxiao leaned closer to Mo Tingbei, resting her head beneath his chin.

With eyes half-closed in pleasure, she gently nuzzled him twice.

Then, pointing to their mingled blood on the ground, she spoke as if presenting a treasure:

“Master, look, our blood has mingled together!”

Her voice, as innocent as a child’s, sent an involuntary shiver down Mo Tingbei’s spine.

The incident eight years ago that had compelled him to descend into the mortal realm, relying on the mundane aura of the dynasty to conceal his presence, resurfaced vividly in his mind.

His throat felt as though it were constricted by a python, and a wave of suffocation washed over him.

Lin Xiaoxiao remained that dangerous, wicked disciple—perhaps even more so now.

Yet, at this moment, Mo Tingbei had not only lost all his cultivation.

His body, weakened by days without food or water, was frail beyond measure.

How could he possibly escape the clutches of this wicked disciple, who already showed signs of forming a Golden Core?

Mo Tingbei offered a bitter smile inwardly, though his face remained expressionless.

Instead, he laboriously raised his hand, gently stroking Lin Xiaoxiao’s beautiful hair.

It was just like years ago, when the little girl had a nightmare, crying and curling into his arms, refusing to sleep until he had soothed her.

Lin Xiaoxiao closed her eyes, rubbing her delicate cheek against Mo Tingbei’s tattered chest with an expression of pure bliss.

She even mumbled some unintelligible syllables.

Only in such circumstances would this wicked disciple, who had once nearly taken his life, reveal such a docile appearance.

Only then could Mo Tingbei find the time to ponder an escape.

****

However, as the saying goes, blessings never come in pairs, while misfortunes never come singly.

A formidable, yet distinctly unstable, aura gradually drew near.

Before they could even draw close, a majestic voice, steeped in years of power, echoed from a distance.

Accompanied by reverberations, it seemed as though this imperial prison had already been ordered cleared by someone.

“Does Master Mo find this emperor’s performance satisfactory?”

As the last syllable faded, Ye Jinghuang’s figure, adorned with a mianliu (TL Note: An imperial crown with hanging tassels), appeared precisely at the prison cell’s entrance.

Her gaze met that of Lin Xiaoxiao, who had looked up at the sound.

Ye Jinghuang let out a soft chuckle.

“I wondered who it could be; it turns out to be the current chief disciple of the Three-One Sword Sect.”

“No wonder my imperial prison couldn’t hold you.”

A dangerous crimson glint flashed in Lin Xiaoxiao’s eyes.

A surging sword intent emanated from her, almost causing her to erupt into action.

Yet, she abruptly halted her movement due to Ye Jinghuang’s next words:

“If you kill me, Master Mo will not survive three days.”

The sword incantation in Lin Xiaoxiao’s hand remained unbroken, its light flickering.

Her eyes, which had just been gazing adoringly at Mo Tingbei, now scoured Ye Jinghuang’s vital points.

Sensing Lin Xiaoxiao’s unrestrained killing intent, Ye Jinghuang, however, showed not the slightest impropriety, maintaining her regal composure.

She looked at Mo Tingbei, now freed from his restraints.

Her gaze swept over the wounds on his body, settling on his pale, emaciated face.

A flicker of heartache and covetous desire danced in her eyes.

Reluctantly tearing her gaze away, Ye Jinghuang turned her attention to the dangerously radiating Lin Xiaoxiao, her words unyielding:

“Since I made a move, I naturally prepared a post-action plan.”

“Only I possess the means to cure the poison in Master Mo’s body; you cannot take him away.”

Their eyes met, almost sparking fire.

Both read a similar thought in the other’s gaze:

‘I will never give Master Mo to you!’