What a cursed fate…
Ye Chen has fallen, overtaken by a heart demon.
Within the jade pendant upon his chest, a faint glimmer stirred.
The master sighed.
Ai… Ye Chen… Ye Chen…
Though her soul was light as mist and thinner than morning frost, she could not bear to watch in silence.
Drawing upon the final threads of her soul Qi, she pressed her essence outward, a slender stream of light weaving through the jade and into Ye Chen's shattered sea of consciousness.
A breeze stirred the wilted petals on the ground.
And still, Ye Chen writhed.
His body no longer knew dignity.
He crawled like a worm across the sacred stones of the pavilion, gasping for breath, while blood flowed from his eyes, ears, nose, mouth, and from other channels which are vital to the dignity of manhood and lineage.
The lightning tribulation had already broken his body like fallen bamboo in a storm.
And now, the resonance of Young Master Zhao's flute; The Dao of Music, carrying both unparalleled grace and condemnation had done what thunder could not:
His meridians lay in ruin.
His dantian was cracked.
Even his Yang Meridians, the roots of vitality and legacy, the hope to expand the family roots, were severed like strings beneath a sabre wind.
In this life… should he ever wish to leave the treacherous path of cultivation and take wives or concubines, and build a household beneath the star.
Then,
It would remain nothing but a dream scattered like plum blossoms on a winter river.
In this life, Ye Chen shall thus forever remain maidenless.
A wilted lotus before bloom, a lamp without oil, flickering alone in the cold of dawn.
No fate to taste the fragrance of lotus pink jade petals between the monolith of thighs, no destiny to merge with his Yang with feminine Yin, beneath the veil of peach blossoms, mind dancing in ecstasy.
This is the end of one who dreamed of Heaven yet drowned in a puddle.
Of course, as much of a cockroach he is, there might be a potential way to recover from this, once given time.
...
Young Master Zhao descended to the ground, his divine soles blessing the unworthy stones of the Pavilion.
With a flick of his sleeve, space stilled; wind, ashamed, dared not stir.
He grasped Ye Chen by the hair not with haste, but as one lifts dust from silk and raised him aloft like a soiled rug before the shrine of Heaven.
"This," he spoke, voice like jade striking jade,
"Is the fate of those who dream without the Dao... Quite an eyesore,"
Saying that, he snatched the Jade pendant and threw Ye Chen aside.
Warmth still lingered upon its surface; the warmth of a soul not yet extinguished.
Within the pendant, a slender wisp of light stirred like smoke against starlight.
The remnant soul of the so-called immortal master, once a grand cultivator who had traversed the Nine Heavens, now but a flicker in stone.
He released his divine sense.
This Zhao shall give you two options, surrender or perish.
He was direct, and bold, giving the immortal master no room for anything.
Either surrender or perish.
The words were simple and easy to understand.
...
A silken voice, feminine yet hoarse with exhaustion, resounded faintly within Young Master Zhao's divine sense.
"Young one… You tread a path stained in karma. If you sever my thread here, Heaven shall one day turn its gaze,"
But Young Master Zhao only narrowed his eyes, pupils like burning jade under the moonlight.
"Then let Heaven watch..."
His fingers tightened.
Crack.
A splinter ran through the jade, fine as hair but deep as fate.
The fragment of soul within trembled, and the woman within gave a long, weary sigh, like the rustling of old scrolls in an abandoned shrine.
"You would really destroy me? Ignorant brat, do you even know on whose grace you are in," she asked.
How come a mere emperor act so arrogant?
Zhao's gaze was cold as ancient bronze.
"To carry rot in one's sleeve is to court maggots. The world has no need for ghosts clinging to crippled worms... The addition of beauty hardly balances the subtraction of intelligence,"
With another flick, he tossed the jade into the sky.
And then, with a single snap of his finger, the jade pendant was burned in primordial fire, they could instantly kill the immortal master.
But the immortal master was in fact an immortal... How could she perish without putting any resistance?
Brrrr~
The space burned in white space, as her spiritual form descended from the jade pendant.
She had decided to burn her soul essence to fight this battle.
...
Zhao looked at her.
Her hair, long as midnight and soft as whispering clouds, flowed in gentle waves, tied high with a crimson ribbon, a waterfall of ink spilling down her back. Beneath that elegant crown, her face bloomed with cherry lips, slightly parted as if murmuring forgotten verses, and warm brown eyes deep enough to drown the moon.
Her skin was fair as polished jade, untouched by dust and wind, glowing faintly with the breath of spring.
She bore the stature of a celestial, tall, poised, yet never imposing.
Her body was a harmony of contradictions: the peaks of her chest rose proudly, twin mountains wrapped in silk, where even the gentle heave of breath stirred chaos in the soul.
Below, her waist narrowed like a willow bending in the snow; soft, slender, near weightless, only to flare again into wide, womanly hips that were as fertile as western land.
Long legs stretched beneath her robe, smooth as river jade, folded with effortless grace. And her feet, tucked beneath her like lotus buds yet to bloom, bore the quiet elegance of a woman who had never touched earth without command.
Quite a feast to the eyes... This venerable one can't help but want to sin.
Perhaps, Ye Chen would be interested to see his divine master play this Zhao's Yang flute.
Tch! Tch! Tch!
Young Master Zhao simply wanted to turn her into his "night mount"
A mount where you ride at night or even day.
"Once again... This Zhao shall give your grave another opportunity, surrender or perish," The tone was cold instantly summoning tall demonic statues that covered the entire supreme peak holy land.
The sky turned ominously dark, and the eyes of thousands of demonic statues began to glow with red flame.
The strong spiritual pressure instantly pushed the Immortal grace to her knees.
The chains made from the ashes of ancient gods bound her feet.
"You..." She had a cold face despite the panic in her core.
These chains could even trap the soul, and this domain, she can't even suppress it with her Emperor might.