For the next week, Xuefeng lived in a relentless cycle of training, testing his limits under Princess Shan's sharp, demanding eye. Her approach to swordsmanship was rigorous, almost militaristic, while Wuying's lessons in battle tactics and anticipation were calculated and exacting. Together, they pushed Xuefeng to the brink, honing both his physical skills and mental acuity. Sparring sessions became a battlefield where he fought to survive, each exchange of blows a lesson in pain and progress.
At the same time, he delved into the intricate art of Spirit Awareness—a discipline that tested his patience more than any sword drill. Manipulating his Qi was like trying to thread a needle with trembling hands. He worked tirelessly to spread his Qi over distances, keeping it controlled and razor-thin to conserve energy. It was grueling, frustrating work, made all the harder by the fact that most cultivators didn't attempt it until the Spirit King stage. His limited Qi reserves meant he advanced by inches instead of strides, but he refused to quit.
By the end of the week, his efforts began to bear fruit. His swordsmanship, once clumsy and unrefined, had grown sharper. He could keep up with Princess Shan during sparring—though "keeping up" often meant avoiding her strikes by the skin of his teeth. His energy had increased, his movements faster, more precise. Yet the gap between them was still glaringly obvious.
"Move your legs faster! Keep your right hand higher! Don't stop moving, or you're dead!" Princess Shan barked, her voice slicing through the air like the edge of her blade.
Xuefeng barely managed to parry her attack before she struck his side. Her sword hit his Spirit Armor with a resounding clang, the force knocking him off his feet. He landed flat on his back, his ribs throbbing despite the armor's protection.
"Again," she demanded, standing over him. Her tone was as unyielding as her technique. "Your right side is wide open. You might as well hang a sign that says 'Strike Here.'"
Flat on the floor, Xuefeng groaned and stared at the ceiling, his breath coming in ragged gasps. The training room in his courtyard suddenly felt smaller, its walls closing in.
"I thought you were supposed to be some prodigy," she said, crossing her arms as she peered down at him, her expression both amused and unimpressed. "Guess you're human after all."
"Glad to hear I'm not a robot," he muttered, a pained smirk tugging at his lips. He propped himself up on his elbows. "But honestly, I wouldn't improve this much without such amazing teachers."
"Flattery won't save you," she said, extending a hand to pull him up. Her strength was deceptive—she hoisted him to his feet with ease. Before he could stabilize, she leaned in, her lips capturing his in a quick, confident kiss.
It wasn't the first time. Since their initial encounter, Princess Shan had grown bold, turning their training sessions into a game of dominance. Her advances had become routine, catching him off guard each time. At first, he tried to resist. Now, he found himself leaning into the heat of her touch, the taste of her lips. It wasn't love—not yet—but it was intoxicating, and he wasn't immune.
"I'm warning you," he said, breaking the kiss and stepping back, though his hands lingered at her waist. "Wuying's coming here soon."
"And you think I don't know you're fooling around with her too?" she shot back, her grin mischievous. Before he could respond, she leaped onto him, her legs wrapping around his waist. She locked her arms behind his neck, her gaze smoldering. "I'm not worried. I'll win you over sooner or later."
Her confidence was as maddening as it was alluring. He steadied her with one hand on her back, the other slipping lower to support her. "Is that so?" he said, his voice tinged with mock resignation.
She tilted her head, her expression softening for the first time. "I leave in two days," she admitted, her tone quieter. "I want to leave you with memories. Something to think about while I'm gone."
His brows shot up. "You're leaving?"
"Yes," she said, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "Will you miss me?"
The question was playful, but her eyes betrayed a flicker of vulnerability.
"I promised to protect you," he replied seriously. "How am I supposed to do that if you're not here? What if that guy shows up and tries to take you by force?"
She smiled, touched by his concern. "He won't. He's busy preparing for the Sacred Institute recruitment. He wouldn't waste time on me now."
"Are you planning to join the Sacred Institute too?" he asked, curiosity edging into his voice.
"I was," she admitted, resting her forehead against his. "But he'll be there, so I've decided on White Lotus Academy instead. It's for women only. With my purple talent, getting in will be easy."
"White Lotus?" he said, raising a brow. "Don't they only accept virgins? I doubt they'd take you after all this…" He let the sentence hang, his hand giving her a teasing slap on the backside.
"You... What are you saying?" Princess Shan's voice wavered, her face a mixture of shock and indignation. She smacked Xuefeng's chest, her cheeks flushed. "Don't joke like this. I don't mind the touching and kissing, but we shouldn't cross the line."
For a moment, Xuefeng said nothing, his lips tightening into a determined line. Then, without warning, he dropped to the ground, pulling her with him in a swift, practiced motion. She gasped as her back hit the floor, his weight pinning her down. The abruptness of it made her panic, her limbs instinctively flailing.
"What are you doing? Stop it! This isn't funny," she protested, her voice sharp with fear. She tried to push him off, but her arms froze mid-motion, bound by two black rings of Qi that clamped her wrists to the ground.
"You... Take these off, now!" Her tone was a mix of fury and disbelief as she tugged futilely against the restraints.
Xuefeng's expression was calm, almost too calm, as he loomed over her. During their week of grueling training, he had absorbed not just the lessons from Wuying and Princess Shan but also advanced techniques from Ling. One of those was a modified Spirit Art she had dubbed Spirit Shackles, a tool that allowed him to immobilize an opponent by forming Qi bonds around their limbs.
He flexed his fingers, free now that her arms were restrained, and traced the line of her jaw, his touch featherlight. "Don't worry," he said softly, his voice soothing but laced with an edge. "I'd never do anything you truly dislike. But I do have a few questions—and I need honest answers."
Princess Shan's breath hitched, her initial panic subsiding into something colder, sharper. "Can't you just ask me normally? You know I have nothing to hide," she snapped, her eyes narrowing as she tested the bonds again.
"Normally?" Xuefeng arched a brow, his lips curving into a faint smile. "Normally, you'd dodge or deflect. This way, I can be sure you're telling me the truth."
Her defiance faltered, her gaze darting away from his. "What did I lie about?" she asked, her voice quieter now, tinged with unease.
"For one," Xuefeng began, his tone casual but his eyes unrelenting, "I read about the top academies. They're fiercely protective of their disciples. If you joined White Lotus Academy, no one—not even a so-called 'Playboy Prince'—could touch you. So tell me… Is he even real?"
Princess Shan's mouth opened, but no words came. She glanced away again, guilt flickering across her features like a shadow under a bright light.
Xuefeng leaned closer, his hand gently turning her face back to meet his gaze. "Tell me the truth," he said, his voice low and steady. "I want to know everything."