Chapter 188: Do I Need to Use the Self-Mutilation Tactic?

At dusk, the three of them returned to Luojing on a single horse.

Nan Gong Ye dared not show his face in front of his disciple and returned first to his secret base.

Xie Jin huan brought Mo Mo with him because he feared being ambushed by a top-tier cultivator en route; once back inside the inner city, near the Imperial Astronomical Bureau and the Protector Temple, the chance of that black-clad man daring to strike was extremely low, and he finally exhaled, first delivering Mo Mo back to the Wang Fu, then heading to the Lin residence to check on Wanyi’s condition.

At dusk, Zi Su, who had no duties that day, leaned back on a reclining chair outside the alchemy room, turning pages of a book with quiet enjoyment.

Meiqiu squatted on the backrest of the chair, tilting her head to observe alongside, chatting idly:

“When Xie Lang capsized in the Northern Sea, soaked in water, with Empress Guo lying on the deck, their eyes met and feelings stirred—where were you then?”

“Gū jī?”

Meiqiu’s eyes were full of confusion.

Xie Jin huan thought Guo Ziyan was truly inventive, so he didn’t interrupt, instead entering Wanyi’s chamber.

But upon entering, he found the room utterly transformed: not only had the skin lotion and other small trinkets vanished, but even the bedding set had been replaced, giving the room the look of a celibate goddess’s quarters.

And the curvaceous woman with glasses knelt on the bed, earnestly making the sheets, her plump, rounded moon swaying gently with each motion…

?

Xie Jin huan had worried Wanyi was frightened, but seeing this scene, he forgot why he’d come, tiptoeing forward and gripping the hem of her skirt:

Hū~

Lin Wanyi, focused on making the bed and thinking of her master, was suddenly covered by the flipped-up hem—startled, she shuddered slightly, tried to rise, but was held fast by the moon, her eyes instantly flaring with embarrassment and anger:

“Xie Jin huan?!”

“It’s fine, keep going. I went to Danyang last night and bought you a box of rouge—let me test if it matches your skin tone…”

“Huh?”

Lin Wanyi, utterly baffled, wriggled to free herself:

“Where are you testing the rouge? Move! If you keep this up, I’ll… hey, no no no…”

Bo bo bo bo…

Half an hour later.

Lin Wanyi, breathless and utterly defeated, lay limp on the pillow, clutching the rouge box, gently biting her red lip as she glared at the big pork trotter beside her:

(→_→)!

Xie Jin huan leaned against the bedhead, holding a black cloth bag, examining it carefully:

“This is the Jiazi Lotus? Master Bu truly is generous—I’ll have to repay him properly later…”

Yesterday, Lin Wanyi had been caught by her master, too embarrassed to show her face for a full day; to prevent her master from noticing again next time, she spent today cleaning the entire house, wiping down every table and chair.

And now, this pork trotter returns—and all her effort is wasted!

Am I, little auntie, just a doormat?

Lin Wanyi wanted to be angry, but Xie Jin huan had risked his life overnight to rescue Master Bu for her, and even got injured—how could she truly resent him? She even felt a pang of sorrow.

After glancing at him for a moment, Lin Wanyi pushed herself up, weary as she was, leaned close, and took his wrist to check his pulse:

“You’re not coming here at night anymore. I asked you to teach me the cultivation method, but you’ve never done anything proper. Yesterday, my master saw everything…”

Xie Jin huan soothed: “Alright, alright, I’ll clean up later—I’ll make sure it’s spotless. By the way, where is Master Bu? Since he’s here, shouldn’t I, as a junior, pay my respects?”

With her master’s backing, Lin Wanyi’s gaze was firm:

“My master wanted to stay the night, but you scared him off. Who is my master? The strongest demoness of the Southern Frontier—not to mention her witchcraft and illusions, even her martial prowess could crush you twice over. If you ever disobey me again, I’ll…”

“Understood. You’ve got someone above you—used to be one, now there are two…”

“Pfft~”

“So you like being on top?”

“I don’t! Hey, you—”

…

—

On the other side, the Protector Temple.

Dong dong dong~

Inside the Buddha hall, the soft tapping of a wooden fish echoed as Master Wu Xin sat cross-legged before the statue, teaching several young monks sutras.

Along the outer corridor, Master Fa Chen walked slowly, turning his prayer beads, beside him the monks from Fan Yun Temple stationed in the capital, whispering:

“Zi Hui Mountain is truly shameless—under the guise of seeking a son-in-law, they’ve made Xie Jin huan handle their sect’s disputes and plan a duel with our temple. This violates all norms…”

Master Fa Chen, appearing around forty, wore prayer beads around his neck, his features gentle and kind, his tone mild:

“Xie Jin huan has genuine ties with Zi Hui Mountain’s disciples—not fabricated on the spot. If Zi Hui Mountain wishes to foster a marriage and uses their sect affairs as a trial, entrusting this youth with the task, it’s perfectly reasonable in the martial world. If Xie Jin huan loses, Zi Hui Mountain won’t renege…”

“Master Fa Chen, what are our chances of winning this duel?”

Master Fa Chen paused, turning his beads:

“Even top-tier demonic daoists skilled in offense have fallen to Xie Jin huan. Our chances against him are less than one percent.”

“What?”

The Fan Yun monk didn’t believe it—a top-tier Buddhist cultivator versus a mid-stage second-rank martial cultivator? How could the odds be so low? But he trusted Master Fa Chen’s judgment:

“Then we won’t accept this duel?”

“If Fan Yun Temple entered Zi Hui Mountain under the banner of ‘Buddhist and Daoist unity against demons,’ yet dare not face the challenge, wouldn’t Zi Hui Mountain’s refusal be perfectly justified?”

The Fan Yun monk realized this was true, scratching his bald head:

“Then what should we do?”

Master Fa Chen thought carefully for a moment, then entered the Buddha hall, returning soon with a wooden box cradled in both hands—inside lay a “Vajra Club.”

The Vajra Club was golden, inlaid with red gems, carved with intricate patterns, its tip like black jade.

The Fan Yun monk, seeing the object, immediately grew solemn, bowed respectfully:

“Is this the Vajra Club once used by Jade Nian Bodhisattva?!”

Master Fa Chen nodded:

“This object shatters all resistance. If you can so much as touch Xie Jin huan with it, he’ll be gravely wounded and defeated. But if even with this you still cannot win, then there’s nothing more we can do.”

The Vajra Subduing Club, left behind by Jade Nian Bodhisattva, was the treasured heirloom of Tian Tai Temple—its effect simple and clear: subduing demons and expelling evil, unbreakable, capable of easily shattering anything except divine artifacts, including weapons.

Because the Chan Ding sect excels in defense, nearly invincible, wielding this weapon grants both thick hide and the ability to deliver a killing blow.

Its only flaw is its short length—the Buddhist sect dares not throw it, lest the opponent seize it and turn it against them.

The Fan Yun monks hesitated to accept such a precious artifact, then pondered:

“If we, junior disciples, enter the duel wielding a divine artifact, isn’t that a bit…”

“Fan Yun Temple using a Chan Ding ancestral artifact is far more legitimate than Zi Hui Mountain borrowing martial reinforcements. Besides, Zi Hui Mountain isn’t without divine artifacts—if they have one, let them give it to Xie Jin huan.”

The Fan Yun monk found this reasonable and said no more, carefully accepting the box…

—

The moon rose above the branches.

Xie Jin huan played with Wanyi, then taught her a new move—“Coiling Dragon Circling the Mountain”—which was essentially a train lunchbox…

Seeing night had fully fallen, Wanyi feared her master might come again to check on her and catch them in the act, so she stopped playing and told him to return to the Wang Fu first—don’t come around at night these two days, lest they be caught in an awkward situation.

Xie Jin huan didn’t linger even during the day, since the Jiazi Lotus was too valuable—he returned it early for peace of mind, helped Wanyi tidy the room, then headed to Fengyi River.

Night deepened; the two-story building by the riverbank glowed with light on its upper floor, faint splashing sounds audible.

Seeing Bing Tuozi bathing, Xie Jin huan didn’t enter directly, but went to the door and knocked as usual:

Dong dong~

“Hong Hong?”

…

The second floor fell silent, then a shadow appeared on the window.

Soon, footsteps pounded—window opened, revealing a face like cold jade, clad in a loose white home robe, her phoenix eyes calm and expressionless; this time, she didn’t show her usual little disdain, only said plainly:

“Why are you here again? Bai Guo, don’t come here unless you have something important.”

Xie Jin huan held up the cloth bag:

“I’ve come to return the Jiazi Lotus.”

“?”

Nan Gong Ye blinked, staring at the bag:

“Where did you get the Jiazi Lotus?”

Xie Jin huan couldn’t say it came from the Witch Cult, so he shrugged:

“I got it through Yang Sichen’s connections—flattery and a few magic treasures exchanged. Clean source, no issues.”

Is that so?

Nan Gong Ye didn’t believe a word—but she had firsthand experience with Xie Jin huan’s silver tongue. After a moment’s thought, she asked:

“Have you seduced another woman?”

“What do you mean ‘again’? I treat everyone sincerely—when have I ever deceived a girl?”

Nan Gong Ye’s lips twitched, but upon reflection, she realized it was her own softness that had given this man the chance to eat and drill his way in. After a brief pause, she vanished from the window:

“Come in.”

Xie Jin huan, surprised at how easily he’d been let in, sensed something was off—leaping up, he landed in the second-floor parlor.

Nan Gong Ye sat cross-legged beside a small lit table, her gaze as still as a deep well, silently brewing tea without a word.

Xie Jin huan sat opposite, placed the bag on the table, and glanced around:

“Something’s troubling you?”

Nan Gong Ye was burdened with heavy thoughts!

After all, he had agreed to a duel with the demoness by month’s end, but to purge the Yang poison, he’d have to make Huang Mao suffer.

Shouldn’t you give Huang Mao something sweet in return for his suffering?

And even after giving it, success depends on luck—if luck runs bad, Xie Jin suffers for half a month, she still can’t break the Burnt Immortal Charm, and ends up losing both wife and army…

“Hmm… Qingming Sword Manor has some matters to attend to; I must return by month’s end, but the Yang poison isn’t fully purged, so… so…”

Xie Jin chuckled: “I thought it was something major—it’s just detoxification. Since I’m free at night, I’ll help you. Why are you so shy about asking?”

Nan Gong Ye hesitated because he feared Xie Jin would take advantage of the opening.

But Xie Jin, sitting across from him, made no unreasonable demands—only pulled out a Fire-Add Oil Pill and swallowed it, glancing at the vial:

“Only six pills left. If I can’t clear it today, I’ll have to return and refine more. Hope for better luck—otherwise, after hundreds of round trips, I won’t mind, but time’s wasted… sigh…”

Steam rose thickly.

Nan Gong Ye knelt in seiza, her expression like a block of ice, her frosty brows betraying no emotion—yet inwardly she chanted:

Don’t soften. Don’t soften…

This brat keeps pushing further—I can’t let him do that shameful thing again…

If all else fails, wait for him to speak first—I’ll still hold the upper hand, suffer less abuse…

But Xie Jin remained still, drenched in sweat. After silently enduring for a quarter-hour, he raised his hand, pressed it to his spine, and transmitted the searing Yang fire through his qi, then swallowed the antidote.

Nan Gong Ye’s Yang poison receded again, nearly vanishing—she thought it was gone, and tried to channel qi.

But the Burnt Immortal Charm was relentless: as long as a single ember remained, any movement of qi ignited into a wildfire, spreading swiftly through surrounding meridians.

“Is it cleared?”

“N-not yet.”

“Then try again.”

Xie Jin swallowed another pill, pushed the Yang fire harder again—sweat rolled from his chin, but he merely wiped it with a towel, staring blankly at the center of the parlor.

“… ”

Nan Gong Ye, seeing his dazed, scorched state, felt a pang of anguish.

But if she softened, she’d lose—so she clenched her fists beneath her sleeves, turned her gaze away, and recalled how Xie Jin had tormented her yesterday:

Mocking words, unseemly familiarity, inch-by-inch encroachment…

He wasn’t this serious then—now he’s just trying to make me soften…

I absolutely won’t yield—he’ll see softness won’t work, then he’ll come forward with demands…

… The parlor glowed dimly as the two sat in silent standoff.

Seeing the ice block refuse to reward him, Xie Jin glanced at the dancing ghost bride in the parlor.

Her dance was alluring, delightful to watch!

Nan Gong Ye grew increasingly restless. After half an hour passed, with only two pills left, she watched this brat beside her—unwavering, like a soulless detox machine—swallowing pills without pause, making no demands—so she reached out and stopped him:

“Aren’t you going to rest?”

Xie Jin paused: “Better short pain than long. Resting won’t change the fact I still have to take more.”

Nan Gong Ye drew a slow breath, speaking with solemn gravity:

“I truly can’t… your self-punishment won’t work.”

“I haven’t asked you to do anything.”

Xie Jin swallowed another pill:

“I’m sincerely helping you detox, yet you think it’s a ploy? It hurts. If I wanted to molest a girl, why would I use such a self-torturing method?”

Nan Gong Ye didn’t believe a word: “You… you have no other method besides this self-punishment?”

Xie Jin, offended by the doubt cast on his “duck king” abilities, stood up, fetched paper and ink, then sat across from her again.

?

Nan Gong Ye looked puzzled:

“What are you writing?”

“Guess.”

Xie Jin dried his hands, then swiftly sketched with a hard brush—fluid, effortless—within moments, he’d drawn the outline of a frosty beauty.

The beauty’s gaze carried the pressure of high heels pressing against the chest, her nose high, lips full—as if mirrored directly.

Scratch-scratch-scratch~

The brush scraped the paper continuously.

Nan Gong Ye, seeing the portrait, was startled, lips parting—then closing again.

But Xie Jin wasn’t done—he sketched beside her a young lord holding a leaf to his lips, playing a tune.

Then came the tree they sat beneath, the mountain covered in maple trees, autumn moon over river and peaks…

It was the scene from Mount Yunling, when they watched the imperial tomb slay demons—but the vegetation had changed, the composition rendered romantically, even the wind stirring the hem of her robe felt alive…

“?”

Nan Gong Ye never expected Xie Jin could not only play music but also wield this seduction art—her eyes tightened:

“Why are you drawing these?”

After finishing, Xie Jin wrote in the blank space:

Autumn’s chill, crimson maple leaves; frost-dyed woods, dusk clouds stained red.

The characters flowed like dragons rising from land, radiating sword intent piercing the heavens.

Just like the young hero in the painting, playing his tune, glancing sideways at the girl beside him, his eyes brimming with affection…

Xie Jin set down his brush, glanced at the finished piece, satisfied, and handed it across:

“For you.”

“?”

Nan Gong Ye felt this brat was her curse. Facing this burning scroll, she didn’t know how to respond. After a moment’s deliberation, she said sternly:

“I don’t want it.”

“Really not?”

“No.”

“Then I’ll redraw one.”

Xie Jin crumpled the paper into a ball, preparing to start anew.

Whoosh~

But the ice block across from him suddenly tensed—then pounced like a she-leopard, pinning him to the floor, snatching the crumpled scroll, glaring furiously:

“Why did you crumple it?!”

Xie Jin, pinned beneath her ample frame, spread his hands:

“I thought you didn’t like it—I was going to redraw it. If you liked it, why didn’t you say so? Now it’s crumpled…”

“You…”

Nan Gong Ye clutched the paper ball, her eyelashes trembling—she wanted to punch this brat:

“You endured the fire poison for so long—you poured your heart into this. If I don’t want it, why can’t you keep it?”

“I’d keep your portrait? Are you sure you’d have no objections?”

“… ”

Nan Gong Ye had no reply.

After a moment of silence, she nearly straddled him, uncrumpling the ball to check if it was ruined—

Whoosh~

Xie Jin flipped up, Shunshi swept her into his arms.

Nan Gong Ye’s face darkened—she immediately tried to get down:

“What are you doing?”

Xie Jin slid his arms under her knees, cradling her in a “train lunch” hold, gripping her waist to keep her from escaping:

“You accepted my gift—you owe me a return. Otherwise, it’s meaningless.”

Nan Gong Ye froze, her gaze turning cold:

“I don’t want this. If you don’t let go…”

“Then tear it.”

“… ”

Nan Gong Ye fell silent, glancing at the “photo” in her hand—her eyes wide with disbelief:

“How dare you! A friend’s gift—even if I don’t want it, tearing it on the spot is disgraceful!”

“Then I’ll tear it.”

“Xie Jin!”

Nan Gong Ye’s robe rose and fell, helpless—she stretched her arm far away, preventing this brat from biting the scroll.

In an instant of tugging, Xie Jin carried her into the bedroom with its hanging curtains, still holding her legs, pressing her down.

Thud~

Nan Gong Ye’s knees pressed to his shoulders, her eyes filled with humiliation—she tried to shove him off.

But suddenly, she realized: Xie Jin was no ordinary martial cultivator—his close-quarters grappling skill surpassed even her peak Rank One Daoist fragility. Once locked, she couldn’t break free without triggering the Yang poison.

After a few futile shoves, Nan Gong Ye’s eyes burned with shame and fury—but she was powerless. She punched his shoulder once, then surrendered, closing her eyes, expression sorrowful, motionless.

Xie Jinhuan saw the ice lump stop struggling, satisfied, and let go, leaning against him:

“How’s that? Not a self-inflicted ploy, is it? You whined and pleaded, but still gave in.”

“You!”

Nan Gongye snapped back to his senses, suddenly jerking upright, his phoenix eyes glaring at Xie Jinhuan, cheeks flushed crimson; he struggled for a long moment before saying:

“I only let you act out because your fire poison was ravaging your body—that’s the self-inflicted ploy!”

Xie Jinhuan made no rebuttal, leaning against him, pulling up the autumn quilt:

“Fine, then it’s a self-inflicted ploy—you told me to act out. Sleep now.”

Rustle rustle~

?!

Nan Gongye realized he’d been trapped—clearly stunned!

What kind of tactics is this kid using? I can’t make sense of it…

But words spoken can’t be taken back; she gritted her teeth and stepped back:

“Once the poison is cured, we can’t do this anymore. If you break your word…”

“We’ll deal with that later. This poison depends on luck—it might take half a year or more to cure.”

“It must be cured before month’s end!”

“Huh?”

Xie Jinhuan lifted his head, gazing at the exquisite beauty:

“How can I guarantee something like this—luck-based?”

If Nan Gongye couldn’t recover by month’s end, she’d truly lose both wife and army; she said earnestly:

“Try more times. If it’s not cured, I… I won’t be able to handle my sect’s affairs. As for your suffering, I… I’ll suffer with you.”

Xie Jinhuan nodded:

“I’ll do my best. Actually, you don’t have to suffer with me.”

Nan Gongye pressed her lips together, silent, pulling the quilt up to cover her cheeks, saying nothing.

Xie Jinhuan saw this little expression and found it amusing:

“Let’s make a bet—you’ll sigh out loud within fifteen minutes.”

“And if you’re wrong?”

“Then I’ll push harder!”

“You?… You’re shameless!”

“Hehehe~ Lady Mu, it’s too late to regret now…”

…

——

The next day.

Dawn whitened the east; autumn sunlight spilled across the terrace.

Xie Jinhuan, neatly dressed, sat on the terrace, brush in hand, painting a portrait of the ice-cold beauty.

Nan Gongye, clad in a black dress, sat upright at a distance, face unadorned, eyes fixed on Fengyi River; her profile radiated a solitary, aloof grace. After several attempts to speak, she coldly said:

“You finished the medicine in fifteen minutes yesterday, and I didn’t stop your later antics. Why aren’t you back yet?”

Xie Jinhuan carefully sketched the beauty’s portrait, softly saying:

“I crumpled yesterday’s painting—I’m redrawing it for you. Don’t rush.”

Nan Gongye’s sharp edge had been worn down by this kid; she took a quiet breath and fell silent.

When the painting was finished, she took it, wary of it being torn again, and set it carelessly beside her.

Xie Jinhuan didn’t linger; with a fluid motion, he kissed her cheek:

Pop~

Then he leapt off the terrace, vanishing from sight.

“!!”

Nan Gongye clenched her fists, stood still and composed for a long while, calming her inner turmoil, then picked up the painting and retrieved yesterday’s crumpled one.

Today’s version was clearly more refined, the paper cleaner—but yesterday’s wrinkled one felt somehow more special…

Nan Gongye rubbed her forehead, stood up, and nearly stumbled on the steps; after a brief pause, she took the scrolls, mounted both paintings, then rushed to the bath.

When she reappeared, it was noon; her attire had returned to the black-and-white Daoist robe, sword case on her back—the cold, emotionless Sword Immortal of the Dan Ding Sect.

Changing clothes seemed to turn Mu Yunhong back into Nan Gongye; under this self-deception, her chaotic emotions quieted slightly.

After scanning the terrace, she lightly tapped her toe and soared into the air, heading toward the Imperial Astronomical Bureau to return the Jiazi Lotus…

———

Nine thousand characters.

Polishing each line slowly—apologies or2

Didn’t see the monthly vote event, posted too late, set the goal too high—just take a look, everyone or2

(End of Chapter)