And finally, her red lips.
Su Xuan cupped her face as she tilted her head back, feeling his thin lips pecking softly at hers, again and again.
Sang Dai had intended to push him away.
But when she met his eyes, she found them speaking once more.
[Dai Dai, I like you so much, I could die from it.]
Her resistance suddenly melted away.
The scent of grass and wood filled the air, and his scorching breath lingered between them.
Su Xuan coaxed her in a gentle voice, “Dai Dai, be good. Open your mouth.”
She closed her eyes, obediently parting her lips slightly. Her hands, which had been resting on his arms, gradually moved up to circle his neck.
Sang Dai didn’t know how to do this and had no idea what to do next. The initiative remained entirely in his hands.
Their height difference was too great. Even with Su Xuan bending over, she still had to stand on tiptoe and tilt her head up.
The Nine-Tailed Fox clan was naturally taller than most human male cultivators, and Su Xuan was no exception.
Noticing that Sang Dai was struggling to keep her balance, Su Xuan supported her and lifted her into his arms, placing her on the soft couch. Half-kneeling, he leaned down to kiss her.
The room was filled only with the sound of their kisses mingling and their increasingly heavy breaths.
This time, however, Su Xuan knew when to stop. Just as the burning heat within him threatened to overwhelm him, he let go of the sword cultivator.
Sang Dai’s face was flushed, her breathing rapid, and her lips glistened. Su Xuan, like a playful little fox, licked away the moisture on her chin.
Loving someone meant serving her willingly.
No matter what his status was, Sang Dai would always be more noble than him.
He sat up and gathered her in his arms, holding her as usual, and softly asked, “Was that comfortable, Dai Dai?”
The first time they kissed, it had lasted far too long, leaving the sword cultivator’s lips numb and devoid of feeling by the end.
Su Xuan didn’t want to leave her with any lingering discomfort, so this time his kisses were much gentler. Although he still lost control of his strength toward the end, it was much better than the first time.
Sang Dai, like a timid little turtle, buried her head in his shoulder and said nothing.
The “Princess” Su Xuan asked again, “Not comfortable? Then should I kiss you again?”
Sang Dai turned her head away in protest.
“Then answer me—was it comfortable? If you don’t say, I’ll have to continue.”
“I…” Sang Dai closed her eyes, worried that Su Xuan would kiss her again. After struggling internally for a long time, she finally muttered in a barely audible voice, “…Yes.”
Su Xuan’s laughter shook his shoulders, which in turn made the little “turtle” in his arms wobble as well.
She raised her head and slapped him hard on the shoulder. “Stop laughing already!”
Su Xuan brushed aside her hair, his eyebrows arching slightly. “Can’t I laugh if I’m happy?”
[Why is she so adorable? She’s just too, too cute—unbearably cute!]
Sang Dai couldn’t stand hearing his thoughts. She also didn’t dare to look at him now. Slipping out of his arms like a slippery eel, she bolted out of the room. In the blink of an eye, she was gone.
“You’re so annoying! I’m going to bathe, don’t bother me anymore!”
Su Xuan leaned back, supporting himself with his hands as he chuckled quietly for a long time.
Timid and awkward, but still so endearing.
Even her scolding sounded wonderful.
Meanwhile, Sang Dai was soaking in the bath, slapping her own face repeatedly.
What had gotten into her? The first kiss had been because she felt soft-hearted, unable to see Su Xuan sad or upset. But what about the second time?
Her dazed face reflected back at her from the water’s surface.
Delicate features, slightly swollen lips.
In just a few months, she had become completely different from the Sang Dai of the past.
Her cultivation had advanced significantly, and her personality had grown much more lively and cheerful, no longer as rigid and austere as before.
Sang Dai pressed her lips together slightly, bent her knees, and rested her chin on them.
No one had ever taught her how to interact with men. In the Sword Sect, she had only been taught how to practice swordsmanship—nothing else. When she got her first period, she had panicked, having no idea what to do. She learned to find cotton wadding and purchase brocade cloth to sew her own straps. She wasn’t good at handiwork and managed to prick all ten of her fingers just to finish one strap.
No one had told her how to deal with feelings between men and women, what liking someone meant, or what love was.
She didn’t know anything.
She only knew that Su Xuan was very good to her, that Su Xuan liked her very much.
And that Su Xuan was very important to her—more important than many others.
Having grown up alone, spending over a hundred years by herself, Sang Dai had developed a shy and reserved temperament. She spoke little and was often quiet. In some areas, she was decisive—quick to kill, with no unnecessary words.
But when it came to matters of the heart, especially with someone who was important to her, she became timid, cautious, and overly careful—time and time again.
Afraid of losing again, afraid of having nothing left.
Terrified that he too would leave.
In the steamy, mist-filled water room, the sword cultivator lingered alone for a long time.
When she finally came out, the lamp in the room had already been extinguished.
The bed curtain hadn’t been drawn yet, allowing her to see the fox lying quietly on the outer side of the bed. The inner side remained empty, reserved for her as usual.
Sang Dai carefully took off her shoes, lowered the bed curtain, and tiptoed around Su Xuan to the inner side.
She thought Su Xuan was asleep.
Just as she reached for the other blanket to lie down, the fox suddenly wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her into the bed and under his blanket.
Sang Dai let out a startled cry, “Su Xuan!”
The little fox gently patted her back. “Sleep here. It won’t be cold.”
Burying her head against his chest, Sang Dai froze for a moment at his words.
She had spent less than a day in the snowfields, and the cold had worsened the damage to her already fragile meridians. It was an old injury, one that couldn’t be healed—she could only take care of it by avoiding prolonged exposure to cold.
Su Xuan had noticed. He always paid close attention to her.
His body temperature was high, and the blanket was warm. Being pulled in was like stepping into a furnace.
Su Xuan was wearing only thin inner garments for sleeping, and his warmth passed through the light fabric to Sang Dai.
The bed had been surrounded by a Hellfire Array, making it even warmer.
She said nothing, curling up in his embrace, listening to his steady, strong heartbeat.
Su Xuan’s hand rested on her back, patting it gently as if soothing a child.
It seemed that Su Xuan had always been so gentle with her.
Beneath his deliberately fierce facade was a soft heart.
A heart filled entirely with her.
Inside the bed curtain, silence reigned, broken only by their breathing.
Sang Dai suddenly spoke. “Su Xuan.”
“Hmm?”
“When we return to the Spirit Beast Hall, come with me to a place.”
“Where?”
“I won’t tell you yet. It’s a good place.”
Su Xuan chuckled softly. “Don’t tell me it’s a golden house you bought for me, planning to keep me there?”
Sang Dai couldn’t help but laugh. “Yes, I bought a golden house.”
Su Xuan nodded in agreement. “Alright then. I’ll reluctantly let myself be kept by you.”
Sang Dai looked up at him, deliberately teasing, “So aggrieved? Then let’s not go.”
Su Xuan immediately changed his tone. “I’m honored to have Miss Sang keep me.”
Sang Dai’s eyes curved into a smile. “I’ve never taken anyone else to this place. You’re the first.”
Su Xuan felt as though his heart was caving in.
He couldn’t suppress the smile on his lips as he gently stroked her hair and replied, “Alright.”
Even if Sang Dai led him down to the Yellow Springs, he would still smile and hold her hand.
—
In a dim and lightless cave, a tall figure sauntered in from the outside.
A woman in a pink dress, who had been crouching on the ground, looked up fiercely and stormed forward to shove him.
Shi Yao growled, “Didn’t you say Sang Dai would die here?”
The black-clad youth didn’t seem annoyed. He lazily patted his shoulder, as if Shi Yao’s touch was something filthy and deeply repugnant.
He said, “Well, wasn’t it because Su Xuan and Tan Huai both showed up? Couldn’t kill her. I’ll just try again later.”
Shi Yao suddenly laughed. “I’ve been wondering all along—do you even want her dead?”
The youth withdrew his hand and lowered his gaze to the pink-dressed woman before him.
Shi Yao continued, “In Bairen Alley, you worked with Ji Cang and Fu You. You handed over the Spirit Root to lure Sang Dai in, claiming Fu You had enlisted Ling Yin’s help to restore Sang Dai’s memories. You said she would surely die in the ambush. But Ling Yin told Sang Dai how to use the Tianyu Stone, and she survived.”
The youth replied lazily, “Oh, and whose fault is that? Ling Yin went and told her. Using just that small piece of Tianyu Stone, she broke your Immortal Realm’s Ten-Thousand Kill Formation. Impressive, really.”
“You forged evidence to deceive the Immortal Alliance into issuing a kill order, yet she survived their pursuit.”
“Hmm, Ling Yin detoxified her. She broke through to the Grand Ascension Stage, and then Su Xuan used a Soul-Seizing technique to make that elder reveal the truth. How is any of this my fault?”
Shi Yao gritted her teeth and pressed on, “Then why did you divide Ying Heng’s Spirit Root into three parts, and why did you place the second part in the Chunqiu Tower?”
The youth replied, “Carrying it around was inconvenient. The Chunqiu Tower was safe.”
“Didn’t you know Sang Dai was acquainted with Qiu Chengqi?”
“How could I have known that?”
“When the Spirit Root was discovered by Qiu Chengqi, he brought Sang Dai over and handed it to her. You said this time, if you lured Sang Dai to the Snow Abyss, you would find a way to kill her.”
“I did try to kill her. Didn’t win, though.”
“What are you even doing!” Shi Yao seethed, coughing violently and covering her mouth as she spat blood.
Behind his mask, the black-clad youth’s lips curved into a false smile.
“How can you blame me for this? I struck a deal with Tian Yuxue, revealing Sang Dai’s identity so she could help Snow Owl fulfill its obsession. In return, she lured Sang Dai to the Snow Abyss. I did go there to kill her after completing the deal with Tian Yuxue, but she was simply too strong. You saw it yourself. Su Xuan showed up, Tan Huai was just outside the abyss, and I was up against three Heavenly-grade Spirit Root awakeners. Miss Shi, my capabilities have limits.”
Shi Yao wiped the blood from the corner of her mouth. “You never intended to kill Sang Dai, did you?”
The youth continued to smile. “Now that’s an unfair accusation. He is watching, you know. If I don’t kill Sang Dai, I won’t survive either.”
Shi Yao tilted her chin slightly. “Then what about the third part of the Spirit Root? Hand it over. I need it now.”
The youth refused. “Apologies, but I still need the third part of the Spirit Root to lure Sang Dai out. If you want it, you can try to take the two pieces she already has. It’s not like she has any use for them. You, on the other hand, can save your life with them. Didn’t we agree before? If you want the Spirit Root, you’ll have to take it with your own skills. As for the ones I’ve acquired, you’re not getting them from me.”
He casually sat down on a nearby rock, resting his chin on his hand as he watched Shi Yao cough up blood.
Still watching the show, he added, “Miss Shi, think carefully. If you don’t get the Spirit Root soon, you probably won’t last much longer.”
Shi Yao covered her mouth and turned away to suppress the rising blood in her throat.
In the corner, a boy in red lay motionless, his face pale and devoid of color.
His soul was on the verge of scattering.
Clenching her fists, Shi Yao cleared her throat and said firmly, “I don’t care what you’re planning. Ying Heng is about to wake up, and you must kill Sang Dai before that happens.”
Turning back, she lowered her head slightly and coldly glared at the youth sitting on the rock. “If she doesn’t die, the ones who will die are you and me.”
Their eyes met, Shi Yao’s face filled with icy determination.
The smile on the black-clad youth’s lips only grew wider, but his dark eyes remained devoid of any amusement.
He nodded. “Alright.”
Shi Yao warned, “We cannot let Sang Dai reach the Guixu. If she gets there, she’ll eventually remember everything.”
“Sure.”
The black-clad youth stood up, stretched lazily, and started walking toward the exit.
Shi Yao called out coldly, “Where are you going?”
Without turning back, he waved his hand dismissively.
“To kill someone.”