Chapter 65: Jin Hai

Late at night.

The room finally fell silent.

Jiang Ye slowly opened his eyes; his aged face bore not only a hint of irrepressible exhaustion, but mostly satisfaction and contentment.

He could clearly feel a purest energy, like sweet rain, seeping into every cell, every meridian, every inch of his bones.

That energy was freezing cold, yet gentle, slowly cleansing his withered body.

“I never expected… this true yin energy to be so potent.”

He silently marveled within.

At the current rate of absorption, it would take at least three days to fully digest this true yin energy.

And after three days, his seventy-year-old decaying shell would undergo a true transformation.

On the bed, Xu Qinghuan lay as if all her bones had been pulled out, limp as mud.

Her lips moved unconsciously, drool dripping from the corner of her mouth unnoticed; she resembled a fish out of water, occasionally twitching to prove she still lived.

The once luminous, beautiful eyes now held no color—only emptiness and dilution.

If not for the faint rise and fall of her chest, she might as well be dead.

“I should leave. Go back and properly absorb this true yin…”

Jiang Ye sat beside the bed for a moment, then rose to depart—only to find his sleeve firmly gripped by a pale, slender hand.

“You… don’t think you can escape…”

Xu Qinghuan had somehow regained consciousness; her unfocused eyes refocused, locking onto him with unyielding intensity.

Her voice was hoarse, barely audible, yet carried a deathly stubbornness.

Jiang Ye looked down at her and sneered:

“I don’t have to leave, either!”

His voice was calm, as if discussing something trivial, yet each word pierced her heart like ice needles:

“You can scream now, make a scene, wake up nearby Jin Hai, even rouse everyone on Jinchen Peak!”

“Let them all come see—you’ve already given me your true yin!”

He paused, and in his aged eyes flickered a mocking gleam:

“I’ve lived this long already; death is no great loss.”

“But you, young lady…”

His voice stretched like a dull blade scraping flesh:

“Hasn’t it been comfortable, these past months, parading around the Tianqing Sect as the fiancée of a true disciple?”

“But I wonder… when everyone learns you’ve lost your true yin…”

“Will they still treat you so kindly? Hmm?”

At these words, Xu Qinghuan’s previously rosy face turned instantly as white as paper.

Her body trembled uncontrollably; her fingers clutching Jiang Ye’s sleeve shook violently.

Jiang Ye’s words struck like daggers, each one piercing her deepest fear.

She knew perfectly well what her greatest value was.

Jin Hai valued her only for her true yin body.

If she made a scene now, if she woke Jin Hai—or anyone else on Jinchen Peak—

and they learned she had lost her true yin… what would become of her?

She dared not imagine.

Moreover, in the outer sect, she had offended so many people she couldn’t count them on two hands.

If they learned she’d lost her protector, lost her value…

It would be far worse than death.

“You…”

Xu Qinghuan stared at Jiang Ye in utter terror, as if facing a demon.

She suddenly realized: this old man had held her weakest point in his grip since the beginning. Before him, she was like a chicken with its neck twisted—utterly powerless.

“It seems you understand your situation now.”

Jiang Ye smiled faintly; the smile looked inscrutable in the darkness.

“If you don’t make a scene now, you’re still the true disciple’s fiancée—you can keep enjoying your privileged status.”

He moved to rise, but found Xu Qinghuan’s hand still gripping his sleeve, knuckles white with strain.

“Even if I say nothing now, when the wedding date arrives in three months, Jin Hai will discover I’ve lost my true yin… won’t I still be ruined?!”

Xu Qinghuan’s mind was on the verge of collapse.

Her voice was hoarse and shrill; tears spilled from her eyes.

She finally understood.

From the moment he entered this room,

she had only one path: death—either now, or later.

Jiang Ye watched her near-breakdown state, then suddenly smiled.

There was something indescribable in that smile.

“If you’re sensible, I have a way to save you by the wedding date in three months.”

He paused, his tone now almost “heart-to-heart”:

“A night as husband and wife brings a hundred nights of affection—I’m not heartless.”

Xu Qinghuan seized his hand like a drowning woman clutching driftwood, her voice trembling: “What way… how can you save me?”

Jiang Ye leaned down, whispering into her ear.

His voice was so soft, like a night breeze murmuring—but each word struck her like thunder.

Her pupils shrank to pinpoints; she froze in place, trembling as she whispered in disbelief:

“How is this possible… how could you possibly do it…?”

Jiang Ye straightened, looking down at her, a cryptic curve forming at his lips:

“Do you have any other choice but to believe me?”

At this, Xu Qinghuan froze.

Yes… did she have any other choice?

The situation had gone too far. She had no retreat left.

She bit her lip, silent.

Jiang Ye then shook his head slightly: “Also, don’t wear that victim’s expression.”

His voice was flat, like a bucket of ice water dumped on her face.

“You pretended to be demure at first…”

“But if my hand hadn’t been holding your mouth tight enough…”

“Your screams would’ve shattered this room.”

Boom—

Hearing this, Xu Qinghuan felt blood surge instantly to her head.

Her face, once as white as paper, flushed crimson—from cheeks to neck to earlobes—she seemed to burn, red enough to drip blood.

“You… you can’t say things like that…”

She instinctively covered her ears, crawled under the covers, wrapping herself tightly like a startled ostrich burying its head in sand, as if hiding could erase everything.

Muffled, incoherent sounds came from beneath the blankets—but no complete words emerged.

How long passed, she didn’t know.

Finally, she cautiously, timidly peeked out.

The aged figure had vanished without a trace.

Her gaze stalled.

She collapsed back onto the bed, staring at the empty room, her mind in chaos.

What had just happened felt like a bizarre dream—but the unbearable pain deep in her body screamed clearly:

This wasn’t a dream!

She looked down at herself, then up at the door, lips trembling, wanting to speak—but no words came.

She lay there motionless, like a soulless shell, eyes vacant, unmoving for a long time.

The next day, dawn barely broke.

Xu Qinghuan rose early on purpose, hoping to avoid Jin Hai and return alone to the outer sect.

But as soon as she stepped outside, she froze in place.

In the courtyard, Jin Hai sat cross-legged amid five golden stones, golden light swirling around him as he cultivated.

He seemed to sense movement, and slowly opened his eyes.

Those eyes were sharp as blades, landing precisely on her.

Xu Qinghuan’s heart jolted; terrified he’d notice any anomaly, she forced back her physical agony, walked forward steadily, and said: “Hai-gege, good morning~~~”

Jin Hai frowned slightly, his gaze lingering on her face, then said gravely: “Your voice is hoarse…”