“Heroine, wake up quick! We’re in trouble!”
Ji Yanqing hurriedly grabbed her sleeve, tugging with all his might to rouse the soundly sleeping girl from her dreams.
But his old wounds hadn’t healed, and cultivating the Origin Path-tier Soul-Coagulating Nether Art had nearly driven him to mental collapse.
At this moment, Ji Yanqing couldn’t be called robust—more like a walking corpse, his spirit barely clinging to his body.
Ironically, Ji Qingyan, with whom he shared a blood feud, had become his only lifeline—a darkly humorous twist of fate.
He only hoped that when Heroine Ji learned the truth in the future, she wouldn’t faint from rage at her past self.
“Mmm, stop it.”
Feeling his gentle movements, Ji Qingyan let out a couple of grumpy whimpers, rolling over to face Ji Yanqing, though her long, alluring phoenix eyes remained closed.
Then, with a sudden giggle, she swiftly pulled Ji Yanqing’s right hand into her embrace, rubbing her fair, faintly pink face against it, mumbling in her sleep:
“Roast chicken leg… smells so good… wanna eat…”
[Gazing at the stunning beauty before you, the desires lurking in your heart stir. Though there’s no chicken leg, the natural ‘tool’ you carry could surely fill her cherry lips, bringing this innocent girl to the peak of ecstasy…]
Do something useful for once, you sleazy narrator!
This young lord is practically knocking on the gates of the underworld, so quit spewing nonsense! If you were even slightly helpful, you wouldn’t be this useless.
As always, Ji Yanqing’s complaints were met with deafening silence.
Resigned to his narrator’s utter uselessness, Ji Yanqing, in the spirit of helping others, bent down to pick up the sword case containing the famed blade [Shadow Bearer]. With a swing, he landed a heavy smack on Ji Qingyan’s peachy rear.
A muffled thud rang out, and the snow-white curves hidden beneath her skirt bloomed with red, rippling like waves.
He might not have roast chicken legs, but stir-fried green peppers with pork would do.
“Eek!”
Caught off guard, Ji Qingyan yelped, her delicate hands frantically covering her assaulted rear, her beautiful eyes brimming with unspeakable shame and indignation.
Before she could voice her outrage, His Highness the Heir preempted, “Heroine Ji, don’t you think tonight is a bit too quiet?”
At his words, Ji Qingyan’s instincts kicked into high alert. The Ghost Shadow Mountains teemed with demonic beasts, often roaring through the night. Yet now, not a single sound came from outside—an eerie, unsettling silence.
Her slender legs stretched gracefully, her black skirt fluttering.
Like a butterfly dancing lightly, she glided silently to the half-open door, the scene breathtakingly picturesque.
Though she hadn’t cultivated a technique to condense divine sense, years of battling demonic beasts in the desert had honed Ji Qingyan’s sensitivity to killing intent.
The moment she focused, a murderous aura from the forest crawled up her spine, chilling her to the bone.
Click.
Her deer-skin boots instinctively stepped back half a pace. Ji Qingyan gasped, a flicker of fear crossing her veiled, moonlike face.
“We need to leave now. It’s likely the Imperial Censorate’s hounds have tracked us,” the red-clad heroine said urgently.
“Heroine Ji, you should go alone. You’ll have a better chance of escaping. Their target is me, not you,” Ji Yanqing said weakly, slumping against the stone wall, a hint of despair in his eyes.
“Once you escape, I beg you to kill those treacherous Ji clan father and son. If you do, I can rest in peace.”
“No way! We live together or die together. I won’t abandon you, no matter what,” Ji Qingyan firmly refused.
Ji Yanqing’s lips curved into a bitter smile as he shook his head. “With my injuries, I can barely walk. How could I possibly escape the Imperial Censorate’s hounds?”
This young master, so noble and selfless, putting others before himself even at death’s door, urging a stranger like her to flee first—such actions marked him as a true gentleman of virtue.
If she abandoned him to save herself, how could she face her late father’s teachings or live up to her status as a true disciple of the Rakshasa Ancient Sect?
At this thought, Ji Qingyan’s fairy-like face flushed, her cheeks burning as if bubbling, her rose-like fragrance intoxicating. Hesitantly, she stammered:
“Um… how about I carry you on my back? My lightness skill is pretty good.”
“Wouldn’t that be improper?” Ji Yanqing feigned reluctance, though he’d been building up to this moment all along.
“It’s fine! Please, Young Master… hurry and get on!”
Blushing furiously, Ji Qingyan crouched with her back to Ji Yanqing, her taut body trembling slightly. Her black skirt hugged her curves, accentuating the perky swell of her snowy rear.
“Then I’ll humbly accept,” Ji Yanqing coughed awkwardly, his peach-blossom eyes glancing at the heroine’s voluptuous figure. Suddenly, he understood the saying: To die beneath peonies is to be a merry ghost.
Clinging to the girl’s jade-like neck, his fingertips were mere inches from her lively “white rabbits.” A slight reach, and he could feel her charms.
Yet he remained remarkably restrained, his hands making no unnecessary moves. His Highness the Heir always knew the right time and place for such things.
“Don’t go through the main gate. Under the incense altar, there’s a secret passage leading to the river valley. Knock three times to open it, then follow the river to the official road,” Ji Yanqing said softly.
His warm breath grazed her delicate earlobe, sending a tingling sensation through her already tense body. Her heart raced, as if a fawn were bounding wildly within.
…
Boom!
A sound like thunder exploded.
Two ferocious saber intents tore through the temple door, splinters flying as a nine-ringed steel saber gleamed coldly.
The blood-patterned black robe of the intruder billowed in the gust, revealing the leader of the black-clad swordsmen.
Heart-Devouring Temple was now surrounded, an inescapable net ensuring the Wei King’s Heir had no wings to fly.
But when the leader saw the scene inside, veins bulged on his face, his eyes bloodshot with rage, pushed to the brink of fury.
“Search the place! First to find Ji Yanqing gets a hundred taels of gold!” the one-eyed brute roared. Even if he had to raze this dilapidated temple to rubble, he’d drag Ji Yanqing out.
“Lord Liu Hu, forgive my impertinence, but who ordered this attack on the Wei King’s Heir? Why no imperial edict?” one of the black-clad swordsmen cautiously asked, approaching the one-eyed man.
“What, you think I’m mobilizing troops on my own?” Liu Hu snapped, his tone sharp. Were it not for their camaraderie, his fiery temper would’ve already drawn his blade.
“…I wouldn’t dare.”
“Hmph. I’ll tell you straight—this comes from His Majesty. Earlier, Vice-Commander Zhang showed me the secret edict. It’s a covert order, not to be made public.
Complete this, and you’ll all be granted titles and wealth, basking in imperial favor. Think we’d be set up?”
Liu Hu’s voice was low, his eyes fixed on the man.
The pressure of a Transformation Realm cultivator bore down, leaving the swordsman sweating profusely, barely daring to breathe.
He knew his superior valued loyalty above all and owed his rank of Thousand Households to Vice-Commander Zhang’s patronage.
At this point, he dared not press further.
Questioning Liu Hu might earn a broken leg, but doubting Vice-Commander Zhang? He’d kill you on the spot.
Besides, rumors in the capital spoke of “the Emperor’s intent to curb the vassals.” With His Majesty’s unpredictable temperament, this assassination could indeed be his will…
Sigh. The Night Raven Guards of the Imperial Censorate had a tough job.